Stinky and Successful Page 3

  TWO

  A Sprinkle of Sugar?

  Did you know that scientists have recently discovered that poisonous jumping spiders like to burrow deep in between the pages of books because they like the taste of the glue that holds the books together? Don’t look too closely in this book because if you actually see one, it will leap off the page and jump into your nostril. . . .

  Did you look? April fool! Ha-ha!

  I just love April Fools’ Day. Today I woke up earlier than Orville, which was good because I had a secret plan. I found my best plastic spider and tied a long string on it. Then quietly I tied it to the lamp next to his bed and arched the lamp so that the spider was hanging down very close to the back of Orville’s head. Then I poked him.

  “Orville, get out of bed quick!” I said. “There’s a huge spider about to bite the back of your head.”

  Orville gave me his famous I-Don’t-Believe-You look. “Ha-ha,” he said. “I’m not going to fall for that trick. It’s April Fools’ Day. There’s no spider. You’re just trying to get me to jump out of bed. See—” He turned and saw that big old spider when he was expecting to see nothing, and, boy, did he scream and jump out of bed.

  I rolled on the floor laughing. Ah, what a sweet way to begin the day.

  He threw his pillow at me. “Good one, Wilbur. But you know I’m going to get you when you least expect it.”

  “Don’t count on it, O-bro. Let’s not forget, I’m older and wiser than you.”

  We got dressed, and I led the way downstairs.

  “Wilbur, you have a huge hole in the back of your pants.”

  I turned and shook my older and wiser head. “Orville. Orville. Orville. You think I’m going to fall for that one?”

  He smiled and shrugged. “It’s a free world. Flash your whitey-tighties if you want.”

  We crept down to the kitchen.

  “What’s that delicious smell?” Orville asked. “Is Mom baking something?”

  “Whatever it is, it’s a trick. Come on.”

  Mom was in the shower, which was great! Not only did it mean that she wouldn’t be stinky all day, but it also meant that we had time to implement Plan #1. We put salt in the sugar bowl and sugar in the salt shaker. Our poor mother would stir “sugar” into her tea and take a big sip! Ha-ha! After we were done with the switcheroo, we tiptoed back upstairs and waited until we heard her banging around in the kitchen. Then we walked down again, looking just like a pair of sleepy angels.

  “Good morning, boys!” she said. She poured herself a cup of tea.

  “Good morning.” We yawned. The suspense was almost killing us. She set the teapot down . . . and reached for the sugar bowl . . . and at the last second picked up the salt shaker and sprinkled sugar into her tea.

  “RATS!” Orville cried. “How did you know?”

  Mom smiled ever so sweetly. “I used to try that one on my mother every year. Must be in the genes.”

  “Next year, let’s put the sugar in her jeans,” Orville said.

  “We must move on to Plan Number Two,” I whispered.

  Orville nodded. “You stay here. I’ll go get ready.”

  “You guys might as well stop trying. You’re never going to get me,” Mom called out as Orville ran upstairs. Then she turned to me. “Now, Wilbur, I’m making one of your favorites for breakfast today . . . a Dutch Baby! It’ll be ready in about seven minutes.”

  In case you were wondering, a Dutch Baby is not a real baby. A Dutch Baby is a delicious kind of puffy popover treat. But that’s beside the point. The point is that there was no Dutch Baby. “Ha!” I guffawed. “You think I’m going to fall for that old trick? You never make Dutch Babies on a school day. I will get breakfast for myself, thank you.”

  I was forcing myself to swallow burned toast when a scream shattered the silence. This was accompanied by a loud thud out the window.

  These two sounds would make any normal parent call an ambulance. Our mom just sat there and opened the newspaper.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Mom said.

  The sound of moaning came next.

  “Is that Orville outside?”

  Mom shrugged.

  I ran out. Orville was lying in the middle of the driveway, wailing and holding on to his leg, which was dripping with blood. “I fell out the window,” he gasped.

  “MOM!” I screamed. “Orville is really hurt!”

  I knelt down next to my brother. “Hold on, little bro. Help is on the way.” Tears fluttered out of my weepy eyes.

  Orville grabbed my shirt. “Wilbur, I’m okay. It’s just ketchup, remember?”

  “I know!” I whispered. “I’m acting!”

  Mom stuck her head out the window. I sobbed. “Help, he’s bleeding to death!”

  She laughed. “Good try. Orville, wash all that ketchup off.”

  “RATS AGAIN!” Orville picked himself up off the ground. “This may be our toughest mission yet.”

  I picked up the garbage can lid that Orville had thumped against the driveway to make the sound of himself falling out the window and put it back on the garbage can. “We must move on to Plan Number Three. Too bad we have school today.”

  When we got back inside, Orville went to wash up. The phone rang. I stayed in the kitchen and listened because, right away, I could tell the call was serious. “Yes, this is Lydia Riot. . . . Water pipes? . . . Just one? . . . All? . . . What does this mean? . . . Flooded? . . . How long? . . . Today? Are you sure? . . . Yes, I understand. . . . I will make the calls. . . . Thank you. Bye.”

  Mom turned to me with a dazed look on her face.

  “What happened, Mom?” I asked.

  “The water pipes at the school burst. We have to cancel school for today.”

  My smile practically broke my face in half. I raced into the bathroom and punched the shower curtain. “Orville, school is canceled!”

  He stuck his wet head out. “What?”

  “Water pipes burst! The school is flooded!”

  I threw Orville a towel, and we danced out of the bathroom . . . and there was Mom staring at us with a big grin on her face. “April fool!” Then she added, “Wilbur, you need to take out the garbage, and that’s no joke.”

  Did I mention that she was wearing oven mitts and holding the most perfectly luscious big old Dutch Baby?

  THREE

  Let the Cool Air In!

  Plan #3 was going to take place at lunchtime and involved Slobber.

  What do you mean by that, you ask? That’s for me to know and you to find out!

  First, we had to get through a morning of classes.

  Orville headed to Mrs. Pensky’s room, and I headed to Mr. Peabody’s room, which both happened to be in the same direction. As we walked down the hallway, our friend Alan caught up with us. “Wilbur, did you know that you have a hole in your pants?” he whispered.

  I looked at Orville.

  “I tried to tell you, bro,” he said.

  That Orville. He was good. He had obviously told Alan to keep the joke going. I looked Alan in the eye. “Orville put you up to this, didn’t he?”

  Just then I heard the horrible sound of Goliath Hyke’s laughter coming from behind me. “I see London. I see France. I see Wilbur’s underpants,” he bellowed.

  That’s when doubt started to gnaw a hole in my confidence. Very casually, I rubbed my hand over the back of my blue jeans. I did have a hole! It was the size of London and France put together.

  I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering what YOU should do if you ever go to school and discover that you have a hole in your pants. I was wondering the same thing. “Riot Brother Rule Number Twenty-one!” I whispered to Orville.

  Riot Brother Rule #21:

  If your brother is ever in an embarrassing

  situation, help him out of it.

  Orville began wiggling his bottom and singing. “Our fine bottoms got air-conditioning, air-conditioning, air-conditioning. Our f
ine bottoms got air-conditioning. That’s why we like to put holes in our pants!” He looked like a complete lunatic.

  “This is your idea of helping?” I asked.

  “Riot Brother Rule Number Twenty-two!” he whispered.

  Riot Brother Rule #22:

  If your brother ever makes an embarrassing

  situation even more embarrassing

  while trying to help you out of it,

  you MUST help him in return.

  There was only one thing for me to do: join in. We sang at the top of our lungs and wiggled the bottom of our bottoms: “Our fine bottoms got air-conditioning, air-conditioning, air-conditioning. Our fine bottoms got air-conditioning. That’s why we like to put holes in our pants!”

  When we stopped, our fellow students clapped. They loved it! Except for Goliath Hyke, who just grumbled and stomped off to class.

  “Wait,” I said. I felt a saying coming on.

  Orville listened politely.

  “The great advantage to being weird most of the time is that when you are weird, no one thinks it’s weird.”

  “Bingo bongo, Wilbur.”

  We hurried to our classes.

  My teacher, Mr. Peabody, had a big stack of papers on his desk. “Please take your seats!” he said. “We have a lot to get through today.”

  Just then the voice of the principal came over the intercom. “Good morning, students. If you recall, today we will be taking the AIDYL TOIR Intelligence Tests all day.”

  We all groaned.

  “Teachers will begin passing out papers, test-side down. Do not turn the papers over until I say you can begin.”

  Mr. Peabody began passing out the papers.

  I stared at the blank side. Through it I could see all the faint marks of the evil test questions on the other side. I would hate to be a test. Nobody likes you. And you’re only used once.

  “This is just one sheet,” Mr. Peabody said. “We have seventeen to do before we get a break.”

  Everybody moaned again. This was going to be a horrible day.

  The principal said, “Turn the papers over and begin.”

  Lydia Riot got us again!

  FOUR

  Slobber and Frank

  There is an old Riot Brother saying. Perhaps you have heard it: The world would be a better place if all children had a roof over their head, food in their stomach, a smile in their heart, and a fake rat in their pocket.

  When it was time for lunch, Orville and I asked to go to the bathroom. We didn’t really have to go. It was all part of the plan. We met in the bathroom. “Do you have Slobber?” I asked.

  “That’s disgusting! Do I? Where?” Orville looked at his face in the mirror.

  “Not slobber!” I groaned. “Slobber!”

  “Oh . . . Slobber!” He pulled our fake pet rat named Slobber out of his pocket and then stuffed her back in.

  We happen to know that the school principal always eats lunch with the teachers in the lounge. We also happen to know that the secretary always stays at the front desk in order to answer the phones and keep sneaky children from sneaking into the principal’s office. So, we had to be extra sneaky. I walked in first. “Mrs. Monday!” I said. Yes, that is her real name. “Mrs. Monday, there is a really cute puppy out by the flagpole.” We also happen to know that Mrs. Monday loves puppies.

  Too bad Mrs. Monday isn’t our mom. She’s so easy to fool. She went running out; and Orville snuck in. I went out to keep Mrs. Monday distracted, but the most amazing thing was that there was a puppy outside! The Kemps got a puppy, and Jonathan’s mom was out walking her. Mrs. Monday stayed out there to talk, so I went in.

  Orville was just putting Slobber in the pencil drawer of our mom’s desk. “See you later, Slobby,” he said, and closed the drawer.

  I gave him the thumbs-up. We both turned to leave and bumped right into . . . Mom.

  “Well, what can I do for you boys?” she asked.

  I looked at Orville. Orville looked at me. “We just came to congratulate you on that great trick with the tests,” I said. “Wasn’t that a fabulous trick, Orville?”

  “It certainly was, Wilbur. Just fabulous.”

  Mom sat down at her desk. “Well, thank you. I take that as a compliment, coming from the famous Riot Brothers.”

  “Oh, before we go, I was just wondering, Mom, can I borrow a pencil?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  Orville and I grinned at each other out of the sides of our faces. This was going to work! She was going to scream!

  She opened her drawer and calmly picked up Slobber by the tail. “Sorry, Wilbur. It seems that Slobber has eaten all my pencils.”

  “MOM!” Orville cried. “Why can’t you be an ordinary mother and scream once in a while?”

  Mom tossed Slobber to me. “Who wants to be an ordinary mother?” she asked with a smile. Then she shuffled us off to the cafeteria, where we sat down with our friends.

  “Be very careful with your sandwich, Orville,” I said. “Remember when Mom put fake bugs in our bread?”

  Orville pulled apart his sandwich. “Just peanut butter and jelly . . . the way I like it.” He held his hand over the goop and frowned.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “This is odd,” he said. “The peanut butter feels very hot to me. Like it would burn if I touched it. Does it feel hot to you?”

  I put my hand over his open sandwich, and he pushed my hand into the peanut-buttery goop. “April fool!” He laughed. “I told you I’d get you when you least expected it.”

  “Not too shabby, Orville.” I wiped my fingers while he poured out the rest of his lunch.

  “Ooh!” he said. “A mini peanut butter cup! I love those.” He tore it open . . . and screamed. An eyeball rolled out.

  “Gotcha, O-bro!” I picked up Frank, my fake eyeball, and laughed.

  FIVE

  Read This Title Now (Ha-ha! I control you!)

  Time was running out. The school day ended, and we hadn’t fooled Mom. We tried to fool her with Plans #4 through 7 when we got home after school, and those pranks didn’t work either.

  I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, please tell us what did you try?

  Okay.

  Here’s the entire list, including the ones we tried before school.

  After dinner, we had to do our homework. I had to fill out a science worksheet. Orville had to study spelling and vocabulary words.

  “I would like to write all my words on the ceiling of my bedroom,” Orville said. “And then I could learn them just by lying in bed and staring up at them.”

  I pictured Mom finding Orville’s masterpiece on the ceiling . . . and it gave me a great idea. “I’ve got it!” I whispered.

  “Got what?”

  “Plan Number Eight.”

  “What is it?”

  “Get a paintbrush and some paint. Saunter past Mom so she sees what you’ve got, and then go to our room.”

  “What do I do with the paint?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Sounds like an odd plan, Wilbur.”

  “You’ll see. Just give her the old Riot Brother I’m-Not-Doing-Anything-Suspicious look to make her suspicious. And I’ll follow up.”

  “Bingo bongo, Wilbur.”

  I peeked around the corner from the dining room to the kitchen. Orville got a paintbrush and some paint and sauntered past Mom, who was in the kitchen.

  “Hiya, Mom. What are you doing?” Orville asked innocently.

  “Paying the bills, as usual,” she said as she ripped a check out of her checkbook.

  “You should’ve named me Bill,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because everybody always pays Bills.”

  Mom had to laugh.

  “Well, see you later,” Orville said.

  “What are you doing with that paintbrush, Orville?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing.” Orville left the room.

  Mom wrinkled her brow and turned back to her de
sk.

  I tiptoed upstairs.

  Orville was sitting on his bed.

  “Great job! Now, watch!”

  I took a big breath, then I shouted, “MOM, come quick! Orville is painting his spelling words on the ceiling!”

  Orville grinned.

  Mom came running up. “Orville, you are in big trouble—”

  We both smiled like angels. “April fool!”

  She rolled her eyes.

  The Riot Brothers never fail!

  The End

  SIX

  Slobbery Sleep

  Poor old Mom congratulated us and went back to her boring bills. Orville and I celebrated by sliding down the hallway in our socky feet, which was so much fun we couldn’t stop.

  “Stop!” I finally yelled.

  “I can’t!” Orville cried as he slid by.

  “You must!” I dumped laundry from the hamper into the hallway, and when Orville came sliding back he crash-landed in the mound of stinky clothes.

  “I am sorry to interrupt the fun, but we need to have a moment of appreciation for these terrific treats for our feet otherwise known as our socks.” I looked down at our feet. “Thanks, guys. You never complain. You don’t even mind being close up to our stinky feet! Let’s hear it for our socks!”

  “Hip hip hooray!” Orville shouted.

  I twirled around on my slippery feet. “Can you imagine slipping your bare tootsies into anything else, Orville? How about paper bags?”

  “No!” Orville yelled and started slip-sliding around.

  “Rubber gloves?”

  “No!”

  “Beehives?”

  “No!”

  “Pumpkins full of peanut butter?”

  Orville stopped. “Actually, that could be fun,” he said.

  We didn’t have any pumpkins full of peanut butter, so I suggested that we play Swat-a-Lot.

  “What-a-lot?” Orville asked.