Snarf Attack, Underfoodle, and the Secret of Life
Text copyright © 2004 by Mary Amato
Illustrations copyright © 2004 by Ethan Long
All Rights Reserved
HOLIDAY HOUSE is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
www.holidayhouse.com
ISBN 978-0-8234-2451-1 (ebook)w
ISBN 978-0-8234-2678-2 (ebook)r
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Amato, Mary.
Snarf attack, underfoodle, and the secret of life:
the Riot brothers tell all / by Mary Amato; illustrated by Ethan Long.
p. cm.
Contents: The Riot brothers capture a crook—
The Riot brothers find a hidden treasure—
The Riot brothers overthrow a king.
ISBN 0-8234-1750-6
1. Children’s stories, American. 2. Brothers—Juvenile fiction.
3. Schools—Juvenile fiction. 4. School principals—Juvenile fiction.
[1. Brothers—Fiction. 2. Schools—Fiction. 3. School principals—Fiction.
4. Humorous stories. 5. Short stories.] I. Long, Ethan, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.A49165Ri 2003
[Fic]—dc21 2003040742
ISBN 978-0-8234-1750-6 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-8234-2062-9 (paperback)
For my sons,
Simon and Max,
and in memory of my father, Jack Koepke,
who always had a twinkle in his eye
M. A.
For Tim,
my brother at heart
E. L.
CONTENTS
Book One
THE RIOT BROTHERS
CAPTURE A CROOK
ONE
Eat Your Green Beans
TWO
Got Any Money?
THREE
Flying Quarters
FOUR
Coffee, Anyone?
FIVE
Who Said Errands Are Boring?
SIX
Funderwear
Book Two
THE RIOT BROTHERS FIND
A HIDDEN TREASURE
ONE
You Never Know
TWO
Have You Ever Tried Picking Up 1,000 Paper Clips?
THREE
Messy Closets Rule
FOUR
Shoom . . . Shoom . . . Yikes!
FIVE
Plunging into Doom
SIX
Who Invented Lips, Anyway?
Book Three
THE RIOT BROTHERS
OVERTHROW A KING
ONE
What’s Cookin’?
TWO
Snow Business
THREE
You Won’t Believe This
FOUR
Flinging
FIVE
Down with the King
SIX
Hear Ye! Hear Ye!
BONUS!
Riot Brother Games
Snarf Attack
Underfoodle
The Naked Mole-Rat Game
The Frying Pan Game
Riot Brother Rules
Riot Brother Sayings
The Riot Brother Top Ten List of Important Things to Be Able to Do with Your Face
ONE
Eat Your
Green Beans
I, Wilbur Riot, was playing Snarf Attack when I discovered the Secret of Life.
What is the Secret of Life, you ask?
Good question. I’ll tell you in a minute.
But first, let me tell you about Snarf Attack. This is just one of the many games I’ve invented. I am very good at inventing games. Some day I plan to write a book about all my games. When I do, you should buy it because then you’ll be able to play them, and I’ll make a lot of money.
I especially like inventing games for the dinner table because it is boring to sit and do nothing but eat. Snarf Attack is a perfect dinner table game. Here’s how you play. Before dinner starts, agree to play Snarf Attack with an opponent, such as your brother. Do not tell any grown-ups. During dinner, try to get your opponent to laugh while he is drinking his milk. In fact, you want him to laugh so hard that milk actually comes out his nose. This is called snarfing. Meanwhile, your opponent will be trying to make you snarf, so keep your eyes open, your mouth shut, and your nostrils on alert.
Just last night, my brother Orville and I were playing Snarf Attack. During the first few minutes, we didn’t look at each other. We didn’t touch our milk. We just ate our macaroni and stared at our mom like she was the most interesting thing in the world.
But I had a plan. Out of the corner of my eye, I was watching to see when Orville would drop his guard.
“There’s chocolate cake for dessert tonight,” Mom announced.
“Sweet!” Orville said, and reached for his milk. “Can I have two pieces?”
This was my chance. I pretended to blow my nose, but really I stuck a green bean in my right nostril. “Orville,” I said in an ordinary voice. “Please pass the salt.”
Orville took a big gulp of his milk and passed me the salt shaker.
I grinned like a mutant Mr. Potato Head. Orville saw that green bean hanging off my face, and he gurgled. A little milk dribbled down his chin, but he didn’t laugh. Before Mom could see, I closed my left nostril and blew. The bean flew out and landed on Orville’s plate. That did it. He laughed, and milk sprayed out his nose.
SCORE!
“Orville Riot, that was disgusting,” Mom said.
“Truly disgusting,” I agreed. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Orville. Now, eat your green beans. They’re good for you.”
My mom looked at me suspiciously. “Since when are you a fan of vegetables?”
I held up a bean and smiled. “Green beans are my friends.”
Orville snorted and kicked me under the table. He was giving me his famous I’m-Going-To-Get-You look. For a third grader, he is very good at making faces. He reminded me of the way the third little pig must have looked when he was putting the kettle full of boiling water under the chimney for the wolf. He was determined to make me snarf all over the table.
I needed a plan. I looked at my milk with despair. A full glass to go! Then, a brilliant idea came to me. If I thought of something sad and drank all my milk in one gulp, I wouldn’t have anything to snarf. It would be over.
What was sad? I stared at my plate. I imagined what it would be like to be a poor little string bean. What a miserable life. To lie on a plate in a puddle of butter. Only to end up chomped between giant teeth. O cruel fate! How could it get any worse?
Quickly I started to swallow my milk, which was hard because every muscle in my body was tense. Why was Orville staring at me? This was his opportunity. Why wasn’t he cracking a joke?
I kept swallowing. I was almost done! One more gulp, and I could see the bottom of my—
A hairy black spider was in the bottom of my glass! “BLECH!” I screamed, spraying milk all over my macaroni.
“Got you!” Orville laughed and tipped the plastic spider out of my cup.
“Doesn’t count as a snarf! The milk came out my mouth, not my nose.”
Mom shook her head, looking almost as miserable as a green bean. “Why can’t we have a nice, ordinary dinner?”
I looked at Orville. Orville looked at me.
“Who wants to have a nice, ordinary dinner?” I asked, wiping my mouth on my T-shirt. “We want suspense. We want excitement. Right, Orville?”
“Bingo bongo, Wilbur. And there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“We want dessert.”
That made Mom laugh. She and Orville started
clearing the table, but I was deep in thought. The green beans on my plate were trying to tell me something.
“Orville,” I whispered, pulling him back into the dining room. “I think I’ve discovered the Secret of Life.”
His big brown eyes got bigger. “What is it?”
I held up a green bean. “If you wait around like a green bean for something to happen, you’ll be bored.” I tossed the bean back on my plate.
“That’s the Secret of Life?”
“No. The Secret of Life is NOT to be a green bean. The Secret of Life is NOT to wait around. The Secret of Life is to make adventure.”
“How?”
“How did we make dinner interesting?”
“We played Snarf Attack.”
“Right! How do you make life interesting? You need a mission. You have to decide to do something and then do it. We’ll make it a rule. Riot Brother Rule Number One: Make something exciting happen every day. We’ll start tomorrow.”
“What’ll we do? Stick two green beans up our noses?”
“No.”
“How about carrots?”
“No, Orville. We need a thrilling, adventurous mission.” An idea popped into my brain. “I’ve got it. We’ll capture a criminal!”
TWO
Got Any
Money?
“Wilbur, wake up.” Orville poked me. “What kind of crook are we going to catch?”
I opened my eyes. It was morning. There was no time to waste. “Good question, Orville. A jewel thief or a bank robber?”
“A bank robber!” Orville said. “Where do we find one?”
Good thing one of us has the brains. “We find a bank robber at a bank, of course.”
“How do we get to the bank?”
“We ask Mom to drive us,” I said as I hopped into my clothes.
“When she asks us why we want to go to the bank, what do we say?”
“Why does anybody want to go to the bank? To put money in or take money out.”
“But Wilbur, we don’t have any money to put in or take out.”
He was right! I was stumped. Then the solution came to me. “First, we earn some money. Then, we tell Mom we want to put it in the bank.”
Mom walked in holding a cup of tea. The steam from her tea was fogging up her glasses. “What are you two plotting?”
“We’re going to earn some money,” Orville said. “And then we want to put it in the bank.”
I elbowed him so he wouldn’t say any more and whispered: “Riot Brother Rule Number Two: Do not tell anyone your true mission.”
After breakfast, we made a list of ways to earn money. We had to work quickly because it was a school day, and it was almost time to go to school. This was our list:
The only problem was that each of the ideas had a problem. So, we had to make a list of the problems.
“What are we going to do?” Orville shrieked.
“We have to think of something that we are really good at doing,” I said.
Orville picked his nose. “Mom says we’re really, really good at being annoying.”
I crumpled up our lists and threw them in the air. “We’ll give annoying lessons!”
THREE
Flying Quarters
Orville and I met in the southeast corner of the playground during the first minute of recess. The blacktop was icy. The air was frosty. Within nanoseconds, a crowd of third, fourth, and fifth graders gathered around us.
Why, you ask?
Because we put up these brilliant signs all over the school:
I clapped my mittens together to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, step right up to get your Annoying Lessons!” I began. “As we promised, the first lesson is free. And here it is. . . .”
I hadn’t actually planned what we’d teach. Now, I couldn’t think of one single annoying thing.
I turned to my brother. “Orville, you can teach the first lesson.”
For a third grader, Orville is pretty good at fast thinking. But the crowd was making him nervous. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye. He just stared at my chin as if it were suddenly the most interesting body part in the world. How incredibly annoying.
Did I just say that Orville was being annoying?
I smiled at the audience. “Lesson Number One is being demonstrated right now by my brother Orville.”
Orville’s eyes practically popped out of their sockets.
I continued. “When someone is talking to you, stare at the person’s chin like this.” I stared at Margaret Lew’s chin. It had spaghetti sauce on it.
“Stop it!” she yelled, and pulled her hat over her face.
“See? It drives people crazy.”
There was silence on the playground, and then the crowd burst into mitten-muffled applause.
“Now, if you want to hear Lesson Number Two, give us twenty-five cents.” I pulled off Orville’s hat and held it out. Quarters, dimes, and nickels flew into it. It was working! It may have been freezing cold on that playground, but baby, we were hot.
“Can you think of another lesson to teach?” Orville whispered.
“I can think of a million. We’re going to be rich!” I whispered back. Then I turned to the crowd. “Lesson Number Two goes like this. Whenever a grown-up asks you a question, you start singing ‘la, la, la.’ ”
More silence. I couldn’t tell if they liked it or not.
“Orville and I will now demonstrate,” I said. “Pretend I am a teacher.” I lowered my voice. “Orville Riot, what is the capital of Nebraska?”
Orville grinned and crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. “La, la, la, la, la!”
The crowd cheered.
“You can do this anywhere, anytime!” I said.
“Especially in Mr. Martin’s class!” Orville added. The crowd cheered louder. Mr. Martin is our music teacher. His room smells like something furry died in it.
I held out Orville’s hat. “Pay up for Lesson Number Three!”
The quarters, dimes, and nickels practically had wings on them.
“Lesson Number Three goes like this. If someone tells you to do something you don’t want to do, just keep asking questions.”
“What do you mean?” a kid asked.
Before I could answer, Goliath Hyke stomped up. Goliath is a fifth grader who wears a strange pointy hat that makes him look like a rogue warrior from another planet. He missed the first part of our lecture because he had detention for pouring milk on Jonathan Kemp’s spaghetti.
Why did Goliath Hyke pour milk on Jonathan Kemp’s spaghetti, you ask?
Goliath Hyke doesn’t need a reason.
Now, Goliath was glaring at me. He probably didn’t like the way everybody was gathered around me. He probably wanted to pour milk on me. “Break it up,” he said.
“Here’s your chance to demonstrate Lesson Number Three,” Orville whispered.
The crowd was silent.
Goliath took a giant step toward me. “I said break it up.”
“Break what up?” I asked innocently.
“Break up this crowd, dough-head.”
“You mean these students? How can we break up students? Wouldn’t that be harmful to their health?”
“Don’t get smart with me!” He was getting mad. I didn’t know if annoying him further was such a good idea.
Then Orville chimed in. “If the purpose of school is to get smart, then how can you tell us not to get smart?”
Goliath looked down at Orville as if he were a pesky bug. For a third grader, Orville is very short. “Get lost,” Goliath said.
Orville looked up. I was sure Goliath was about to crush him beneath his boot. But bless my brother’s buggy heart, he didn’t panic. Orville fired off more questions. “How can I get lost if I know where I am? Or, what if I get lost and someone finds me? Then will I be found even if I’m still lost?”
Goliath growled, his breath puffing like smoke in the cold air. “You guys are really annoying.”
&
nbsp; “Ladies and Gentlemen, you heard it here!” I exclaimed. “We are experts at annoying, and now you’re learning all our tricks.” I held out Orville’s hat. “Pay up for Lesson Number Four. Only twenty-five cents.”
My brother smiled sweetly. “Don’t you want to learn it, Goliath? It’s the best one yet.”
Goliath growled again, but to our amazement, he pitched in a quarter, saying: “This better be good.”
BLAST OFF went the other kids’ quarters, dimes, and nickels. Just as the coins crash-landed in Orville’s hat, the bell rang.
“Sounds like recess is over,” I said, and started jogging toward the door, the coins jingling merrily in the hat. Orville followed.
“What about Lesson Number Four?” somebody called.
With my free hand, I waved back at the crowd. “Lesson Number Four: Collect money for a lesson, and then run out of time before you can teach it.”
FOUR
Coffee, Anyone?
We made $19.50. Plenty of money to open up a bank account and catch a crook.
After recess we stuffed all the coins into our pockets.
“Those signs really did the trick!” I said. “We’re brilliant!”
“We’re rich!”
“We’re jingly!”
“We’re fat!” Orville danced around, jingling.
“I’d love to stay and jingle with you,” I said. “But it’s time to go to class.”
Orville danced off to language arts. I had music.
It’s very hard to concentrate on school when you’re about to catch a bank robber. I kept imagining the scene at the bank. We’d probably get a reward for the capture. What would it be? A medal? A trophy? A mountain of money?
“All right, class,” Mr. Martin said as he passed out the Sweet Songs of Youth books. “Turn to page fourteen. We’re going to learn a sad but beautiful song about a dying daffodil. I’ll sing a line. You repeat it.”