Stinky and Successful

by Mary Amato

  Everyone listened politely. Well, except for the bus driver, who for some reason ran off the bus.

  “Singing a song is like taking your voice on a field trip,” I said. “It deserves to have a little fun.”

  There were nods of agreement all around.

  After I got off the bus, Orville pulled me aside and whispered, “’Tis true what you said about goodly singing, O Wilbur! But fie! We haveth a problem on our hands.”

  “What’s the problem?” I asked.

  “We sang so many goodly songs, we forgot all about rescuing a damsel.”

  I nodded wisely. “Let us make haste and keep our eyes open. Perhaps we shall find a damsel in yonder garden!”

  I could tell that he liked the way I said “make haste” and “yonder” because of his face. His face was giving me the Hey-It’s-Not-Too-Shabby-Having-You-for-a-Brother look. I have to admit that it’s a very nice look to get from a brother.

  FOUR

  Why Would You Want Hair on Your Toes?

  In case you were wondering, it’s not easy to get a tan at the Botanic Garden. I thought it would be. I thought that was the whole point. As it turns out, the Botanic Garden isn’t even outside. It’s INSIDE! It’s like a big indoor zoo but instead of looking at animals, you’re looking at plants. There aren’t any cages, so you could walk right up and touch some of these plants, but I suggest you don’t because some of them have spikes and some of them have poisonous leaves and some of them would sadly rip if everybody touched them. So keep your dirty rotten hands off the plants, will you?

  The main room of the Botanic Garden has a shallow little stream running through it. No kidding. It’s like the outside is inside. There are dragonflies and ladybugs and even birds flying around, and the air is misty. When we arrived, a little girl was standing on a low wooden footbridge with her mommy, peering into the stream. All was quiet. And then the little girl started jumping up and down and yelling, “Foggy! Foggy!”

  “Hark!” Orville cried. “Methinks I hear a girl distressed because of the fog!”

  Orville dashed for the bridge before I could stop him. He was concentrating so hard on the girl that he didn’t see the wet leaf on the bridge. His foot hit it and he slid. In baseball, that’s called sliding into home base. In the Botanic Garden, that’s called sliding into a little girl’s face. He knocked the girl right off the bridge, and she fell into the water with a splash!

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, Orville?” Mrs. Pensky cried. Mrs. Pensky is Orville’s teacher.

  “I was trying to help the little girl. She was distressed because of the fog,” he explained.

  “Fog? What fog?” the girl’s mom asked as she lifted the soggy, surprised kid out of the water. “She was saying ‘foggy’ because she was excited to see a froggy.”

  I could tell that Orville felt bad enough, so I didn’t mention the little fact that I think the girl may have squished the froggy. But Mrs. Pensky didn’t think Orville felt bad enough, so she made him sit in the corner near the Stapelia gigantea. It’s bad enough to have to sit still when you’re on a field trip. But to sit near a Stapelia gigantea is really bad. Why, you ask? Because the Stapelia gigantea is a plant that has a huge flower that stinks worse than a dead skunk’s socks! (Sorry, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say about socks. I bet they can’t help stinking if they’re on a dead skunk.)

  “I hope Mrs. Pensky doesn’t tell the school principal that I am having this little time-out,” Orville said. I hoped so, too, for Orville’s sake. In case you didn’t know it, the school principal is our mom, Lydia Riot.

  I had to roam the rooms of the garden and keep my eye out for possibly distressed damsels without Orville. Here’s what I saw.

  I could only hope that Orville had better luck.

  When our classes met in the big room, I searched his face for signs of success. Alas! Alack! His face looked awful.

  In the meantime, he was searching my face for signs of success.

  “We’re doomed, aren’t we?” he said sadly.

  Just then my classmate Goliath Hyke walked by. Goliath is a bully who I wish would move to another town. As Goliath walked by, he said, “You’re not only doomed, Orville. You’re dumb. You’re dumb as a crumb.” He said it very loudly so that as many people as possible would hear. He likes making people feel as low as a fly on a stinking Stapelia gigantea.

  Everyone looked at Orville.

  Riot Brother Rule #18:

  If someone puts your brother down,

  stick up for him.

  “Goliath,” I said. “If you want to call Orville a crumb, first you have to deal with me.”

  He stuck out his chest. “I can deal with you, punk.”

  “Got any cards?” I asked.

  “Hunh?”

  I shrugged. “How can you deal with me if you don’t have any cards?”

  Everybody laughed . . . well, except Goliath.

  “Nice one,” Jonathan Kemp whispered.

  “You’re dumb as a crumb, too,” Goliath muttered, and wandered off.

  “We don’t mind being dumb and crumby,” I called after him. “Because at least we’re yummy.”

  “I feel a saying coming on,” Orville said. I almost fainted. Orville has never felt a saying coming on before. We all listened politely as he cleared his throat. “If someone tries to bug you,” he said wisely, “don’t let it bug you.”

  “Not too shabby, little bro.” I clapped him on the back.

  Just then Goliath shouted out, “Gotcha!”

  “He’s got a dragonfly!” Selena cried. “Goliath, let it go. How would you like it if some big old giant caught you?”

  “Mind your own business,” Goliath said. “I just want to pull off its wings.”

  Imagine being trapped inside the sweaty paws of Goliath Hyke. What worse prison could there be?

  I looked at Orville. Orville looked at me. I could see it in his eyes. He was thinking the same thing I was thinking: It was time for Operation Armpit. This is a secret Riot Brother strategy that we save for serious situations. Doing it successfully requires the courage to stick your hands where no hands want to go. We lunged for Goliath, stuck our hands in his armpits, and tickled.

  “Stop it!” he screamed. His arms flew apart, and the dragonfly zipped out of his hands.

  Everyone cheered. Well, except Goliath. He stuck his hands under his armpits and stomped away.

  “Looks like Operation Armpit worked,” I said.

  Orville sighed. “We rescued the dragonfly. Why can’t we rewrite our mission to say that our goal was to rescue bugs from distress?”

  “That would be cheating.”

  “I bet bugs would like us.”

  A fly landed on Orville’s nose. “They already do, bro.”

  FIVE

  Muddy Shoulders Are a Small Price to Pay

  “Goliath!” Mrs. Pensky called. “You can sit next to me on the bus. Come along, children.”

  As we began walking toward the exit, a gardener stopped us. She had on an official muddy shirt and muddy pants and muddy gloves and even muddier boots, and on top of all that she had leaves in her hair and a smear of dirt that went from her nose all the way to her ear. In other words, she was my kind of woman. “Good job, boys. I saw the whole thing,” she said. “That’s one lucky damsel.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “What did you just say?”

  With her trowel, she gestured toward Goliath’s most recent victim, which was now darting near the stream. “That’s a damselfly. It looks like a dragonfly, but it’s skinnier and it holds its wings up instead of out.”

  I looked at Orville. Orville looked at me. Our jaws were hanging so low a couple of damsels could have flown right in.

  “Dost thou mean to tell me that we just rescued a damsel in distress?” I asked.

  She laughed. “I guess you did.”

  “That means we can becometh knights!” Orville cried.

  The gardener laughed again. “I hereby make you knights of th
e Botanic Garden.” She tapped us on our shoulders with the end of her trowel.

  “We did it!” I cried.

  “Bingo bongo!” Orville cried.

  “Get moving, boys!” Mrs. Pensky cried.

  “Thank you, Official Gardener,” I said.

  “Yes,” Orville joined in. “Thank you and farewell!”

  SIX

  Stop Sniffling!

  After our exciting day, we came home and ate dinner. (Mom said we had to eat with forks even though we tried to explain to her that back in knightly days people ate with their fingers.) Then we messed around until bedtime.

  After Mom tucked us in and left, Orville stuck his socky feet in the air and said, “I’m not tired and neither are my goodly socks.”

  “Let’s play Sock Me a Story,” I suggested.

  “I’ll go first,” Orville whispered, whipping off his socks and rolling them into a ball. By the way, he wasn’t whispering because sock stories are supposed to be secret; he was whispering because we were supposed to be sleeping and didn’t want to get caught.

  “Once upon a time there was a pair of goodly white socks,” Orville began. “They wanted to see the world. So they hopped out of their drawer and ran into yonder street. Vroom! A huge truck ranneth over them. After the truck was gone, they peeled themselves off the road. They were not white socks any longer. They had black stripes.” Orville threw the sock ball at me. That meant I had to add to his story.

  I jumped right in. “Then along came a zebra. ‘Look! A pair of striped socks to match my handsome legs!’ the zebra said. He put on the socks and galloped all the way to Africa. And so the socks did see the world after all. And then they were eaten by a lion. The end.”

  “Not too shabby!” Orville said. “Now it’s your turn to start. Knock my socks off.”

  I flared my nostrils a few times. Sometimes that helps me get in the mood for telling a good story.

  “Many moons ago, there was a poor green sock who was always wet from crying because he had lost his goodly brother.”

  Orville grabbed the sock ball. “The end!” Orville sniffled. “’Twas a sad, sad tale.”

  “I’m not done, dude!” I threw my pillow at him and grabbed the sock ball back. “One day the green sock decided to try to find his brother. He walked all over town, which was very painful without shoes! After a while he went to the zoo. There was an elephant who was sniffling.” I paused and threw the sock ball at Orville.

  “‘Why art thou sniffling?’ the sock asked.

  “‘Because I have a peanut stuck up my trunk nostril,’ the elephant said. ‘Every time I sniffle, it goes a little farther in! Which makes me sniffle even more. I can’t stop!’

  “The sock jumped through the bars, wrapped himself around the end of the peanut, and yanked it out.

  “‘Hooray!’ The happy elephant lifted the sock up high with his trunk. Just then, a voice called out, ‘Brother! I see you!’ High in the air, the green sock could see his brother running toward him. His brother had been looking for him, too!” Orville stopped and whipped the sock ball back at me.

  I continued. “‘Hooray!’ The elephant set down the sock, and his brother ran through the bars to him. It was such a happy sight that the elephant began to sniffle with joy. Unfortunately, his trunk was very close to the socks and he sniffled them up his nostrils.” I threw the sock ball back to Orville.

  He grinned. “And so if you visit the zoo, you will see an elephant with two green socks hanging out of his trunk nostrils. And that is the end.”

  Orville started cracking up but had to stop because we heard our mom’s footsteps.

  She opened the door. “Good night, boys.”

  “You mean, good night, knights,” Orville said.

  “Oh brother,” she said.

  “You mean, oh brothers,” I said.

  “Just go to sleep!” She closed the door.

  I sighed. I had that happy feeling you get when you’ve just had a good day, and it’s not quite over because you’re still awake.

  Orville shined his secret Riot Brother flashlight at me and whispered, “Hey Wilbur, are you asleep?”

  Riot Brother Rule #19:

  Always keep a flashlight

  under your pillow.

  “Not yet,” I whispered back.

  “I know that rescuing a damsel wasn’t your favorite mission, but you stood by me. So I just want you to know that if you ever get stuck in an elephant’s nostril, I will come and pull you out.”

  I shone my flashlight at him. “Thank you, Orville.”

  “Unless I’m stuck in there, too,” he added. “If we’re both stuck, we’ll just have to wait until we’re so slimy with elephant snot that we slide right out.”

  “Well, if that happens, at least we can keep each other goodly company,” I said.

  We gave each other looks of brotherly love. Then we threw our stinking socks at each other.

  The End

  ONE

  I Forget What This Chapter Is Called

  Hip hip hooray for homework!

  Are you wondering if I have lost my mind? Perhaps cruel teachers from outer space have invaded my head and removed my brain?

  First of all, thank you for being worried about me. But you can relax. I still have my good old amazing brain, and it’s working fine. Let me explain why I’m hip-hip-hooraying for homework.

  It all started with a problem late last night. I was lying in bed, looking up at the ceiling, trying to remember what it was that I was trying to remember. Have you ever had that problem?

  “Orville?” I whispered. “Are you asleep?”

  “Yes,” he whispered back.

  “You know how it is when you know that there’s something important, only you don’t know what it is?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I’m trying to remember what it is that I forgot.”

  He flicked on his flashlight and beamed it on my face. “Did you forget that you have a loose tooth?”

  “Oh yeah, I did!” I wiggled my tooth. “But that isn’t it.”

  “Did you forget that you forgot to take out the garbage?”

  “Oops! I did. But that isn’t it, either.”

  “Did you forget that you owe me ten dollars?”

  “You owe me ten dollars, Orville.”

  “Oh yeah. I forgot that I was hoping you’d forget.” He quickly changed the subject. “Did you forget that you forgot to do your homework?”

  “Rats on rye!” I yelped. “I did forget to do my homework! That still isn’t it, but I better do it.”

  I got my flashlight and a pencil and wrote my name and the date on a piece of paper.

  That’s when I finally remembered what I had forgotten! I almost jumped right out of my pajamas. “Orville, our favorite holiday is tomorrow!”

  “Halloween?”

  “Orville, today is March thirty-first. How could it be Halloween?”

  “You’re the one who said it was Halloween.”

  “No I didn’t. I said our favorite holiday is tomorrow.”

  “Exactly! Our favorite holiday is Halloween.”

  “Wrong! Our favorite holiday is April Fools’ Day, which is tomorrow.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes. We’ve got to stay up very late tonight planning. Our mission is clear.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes. What do we try and fail to do every April Fools’ Day?”

  “I forget.”

  “Fool Mom.”

  “Yeah. Somehow she always gets us!”

  “Precisely! This year, our mission will be to fool her!”

  We got out our Secret Riot Brother Mission Book and wrote down our mission. Then we made a list of all the things we would try to do to fool our dear old mom. I’m not going to show you the list yet because if I did then you would know exactly what is going to happen in this book, and it wouldn’t be as much fun to read.

  When we were done with our list, Orville’s eyes practically popped out
of their sockets. “I just remembered something really important that we both forgot!” he exclaimed.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  This was serious. I could tell by Orville’s face.

  “We forgot to eat dessert,” he said.

  A chill went up my spine. This was serious.

  Riot Brother Rule #20:

  Never ever go to bed

  without eating dessert.

  “We can’t break a Riot Brother rule!” I exclaimed. “Let’s go!” We tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen. Thank goodness our mom was practicing her cello in the den.

  “Guess what I’m in the mood for?” Orville asked.

  “Fish guts on toast?”

  “No. I’m in the mood for a Loud Cloud.”

  I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, what is a Loud Cloud? It’s a Riot Brother Edible Invention.

  “We can’t have Loud Clouds because we have to be quiet,” I whispered.

  “Then let’s have Quiet Clouds,” Orville said. “They’re not as much fun, but they’re tasty.”

  Orville got a can of whipped cream out of the refrigerator and read the instructions. “Shake before using.” He held the can in one hand and shook his body all over. Then he stuck out his tongue and squirted a big cloud of whipped cream onto his tongue. To make a Loud Cloud, you have to sing as loudly as you can while squirting, which is the really fun part; but Orville kept it to a soft aaaah and handed me the can.

  We were both aaaahing with big gobs of delicious fluffy clouds of cream on our tongues when something horrible happened. The cello music stopped. We heard footsteps.

  “Whhuuuh!” Orville said, which is what “Run!” sounds like when your mouth has a cloud in it.