by M. D. Whaleb
by M.D. Whalen
illustrated by Des Campbell
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Second Sheep
The Evil Doorman
Rocket Man
Space Puke
The EMU Lab
Having A Blast
Space Boogers
School’s Out
The Kids in the Moon
One Small Toot
Dark Side of the Moon
Breath of Fresh Air
The Uranian Plot
Home Alone
Dueling Gassers
War of the Worlds
Planet Gas
Out of the Clouds
Bonus: Farty Facts
The Fart Brothers Save the World
Who writes this stuff?
CHAPTER 1
Second Sheep
Willy wished he had someone to play games with besides his big brother Peter.
Right now Peter was picking a thick brown scab off his leg, when he should have been concentrating on the giant saber-toothed worm monsters battling the Trans-Galactic Imperial Infantry.
“Gross!” Willy dropped his game controller in disgust. “You let one get away!”
“Oh yeah? This’ll stop him.” Peter lifted one butt cheek and let out a blustery paint peeler of a fart.
That called for revenge. Willy raised his rear end and spewed a dirty green booty blast so rotten-smelling it could have melted steel, or one of the Dorlusian robot gladiators that had just stomped into view.
“Now you’re the one who lost us points!” Peter said. “Just for that, eat this.” He tore another scab from his knee and spun it at him. Willy ducked just in time.
“Uh oh,” Peter said, his nose pointing behind Willy.
The scab stuck to the forehead of their little sister Skyler, who didn’t seem to notice as she skipped happily down the stairs. She hopped in front of the couch and held out two slips of paper.
“For my special brothers,” Skyler said.
“We don’t need toilet paper,” Peter said, winking at Willy.
“This isn’t toilet paper, dummy,” Skyler said. “These are VIP tickets for my kindergarten spring pageant. We’re performing ‘Old MacDonald Had a Farm’.”
“And what are you, one of the pigs?” Peter imitated a snorting hog.
Skyler ignored him and stuck up her nose. “I play Lamb Number Two, the second-most important sheep in the whole play.”
“Hey, know what a sheep fart sounds like?” Peter squeezed out a honk that sounded more goosey than sheepy.
“Don’t be disgusting. You better come!” Skyler set the tickets between them on the couch. “Oh yeah, one more thing. I need you to babysit Squeaky.”
Squeaky was Skyler’s pet hamster. All he did all day was crack sunflower seeds and run inside his wheel.
Once he’d bitten Willy’s finger, one of the most painful experiences in his life. Though to his credit, Squeaky often lived up to his name with hilarious little hamster farts.
“We actors are required at rehearsal,” Skyler said. She placed a grapefruit-sized clear plastic hamster ball on the floor. “So please look after—”
KABOOM!
A terrifying explosion cut her off.
“See what you made happen?” Peter tossed his controller on the floor. “You let the Trans-Galactic Star Station blow up!”
Big red words appeared on the screen: “You lost the battle. Go back to Level 12.”
Before either boy could punish their sister with a lethal fart, she was out the door. With Peter’s scab still stuck to her head, at least.
“Who wants to sit through some stupid kidney-garden pageant to watch her bleat like a sheep?” Peter said.
Willy agreed. “We need to get away, as far away as possible.”
Peter switched the television to a regular station, but it was just the news. He was about to press another channel, when Willy said, “Hold it!”
The news showed a rocket on a launchpad, while the reporter reported: “...first manned mission to the Moon in forty years. The public is invited to meet the astronauts today, just before lift-off, at the Gasserton Space Command Center auditorium.”
“Cool! That’s in the next town,” Willy said.
Peter was already out of his seat. “Let’s go!”
They packed snacks for the ride over: nacho corn chips, refried beans, hard boiled eggs, plus a bag of leftover onion rings. Then they ran down the street to catch the bus.
“Wait!” Willy said. “We promised to babysit the hamster.”
“I don’t remember any promise,” Peter said.
Willy looked away, so his brother wouldn’t see his tear-filled eyes. They couldn’t leave poor little Squeaky all alone in the house. What if a pet thief broke in?
Willy dashed home, scooped up the hamster ball, and reached the bus stop just in time.
“Do you see what I see?” Peter said.
Willy saw. The bus was jam-packed with student ballerinas.
They settled in the back seat. “Pass the eggs and beans and onion rings,” Peter said.
Ten blocks later they hammered out nose-melting, eye-watering fart bombs that turned the air in the bus grungy yellow.
One block after that, their butts hit the sidewalk.
The next bus came along after a few minutes. This one was filled with an old ladies’ knitting club.
Willy and Peter gulped down another can of beans. This was turning out to be a truly fun day.
CHAPTER 2
The Evil Doorman
A crooked-nosed doorman stopped them at the Space Command Center entrance.
“Got tickets?”
“No one told us we needed tickets,” Willy said.
“Tough luck. All sold out,” said the doorman.
Willy was about to cry, but Peter winked at him and told the guard, “Sure we got tickets.”
Peter pulled out the paper that Skyler had given him earlier, and Willy did the same. They started to walk past, until monstrous hands gripped their shoulders.
“Says right here these are for Old MacDonald,” said the doorman. “Not old Man in the Moon. Anyway, no pets.”
He pointed to a sign which read:
NO ANIMALS ALLOWED, INCLUDING SNAKES, SPIDERS, AND HAMSTERS
“Now, scram!” The doorman balled up the tickets and tossed them aside.
Peter led Willy around the corner, where they hid behind a tree. “Time to use our foolproof method for getting past guards. Start eating.”
Peter opened the bag of cold, greasy onion rings and poured bean dip all over them. For good measure, he shoved hard-boiled eggs in his and Willy’s mouths.
A few minutes later, they were back in front of the doorman.
“Hey, I thought I told you guys—”
Willy and Peter dropped their pants and pumped out loud, bubbly brown fart blasts that smelled like a garbage dump had exploded. Some late arrivals ran away, but the doorman just stood there.
“That’s nothing,” he told them. “Just had my lunch at a taco truck.” He bent over, aiming his rear end like a cannon.
A fart struck Willy in the face like a boxing glove, sending him somersaulting backwards down the steps.
“Aaaaaaahhhhh!” Willy screamed.
The doorman laughed like an evil troll. “Har har har! Don’t let me catch you brats showing your faces—or butts—around here again.”
Willy wanted to cry. His chance of a lifetime, to meet real, live astronauts! Ruined! Peter patted Willy’s shoulder and said not to worry, they would find a way in.
They snuck around the side of the building and tried a few doors. At one, another guard yelled at them. The rest of the doors were locked.
Finally they came to a door where they heard voices inside.
Peter had an idea. He put Squeaky in his hamster ball right next to the door. He knocked, then they both ran and hid behind a bush.
The door opened a crack. A man’s head peered out, looked right and left, shrugged, then went back inside and let the door close behind him. Except it didn’t shut completely—it was stuck against the hamster ball.
Willy and Peter tiptoed over and listened until the voices and footsteps faded.
They were in!
CHAPTER 3
Rocket Man
Willy and Peter crept through an empty white hallway, past unmarked white doors. Hearing more voices ahead, they ducked into the nearest room.
It looked like the changing room at the school gym, only without the sweaty smell. Peter pointed to the tall lockers lining one wall.
“Let’s hide in there!” He swung open a locker door.
“Whoa!” Peter and Willy said at the same time.
They were staring at a big, white astronaut space suit!
The next locker contained another.
“Let’s try them on!” Peter said, dragging out the first space suit.
Willy thought this was a great idea and a bad idea at the same time. They were in deep trouble just by being here. But who could resist the fun?
The second space suit was stiff and a bit heavy, and way too big for him, but once he clipped on the helmet he felt like a real astronaut.
This was awesome! They waved their arms like space aliens and made silly faces at each other.
Peter’s mouth puckered, his eyebrows jammed together. Willy knew what was coming.
Peter’s fart reverberated through his suit and echoed off the walls. Of course, Willy had to fart in response. Then he wished he hadn’t eaten those hard-boiled eggs.
Willy struggled to breathe inside the sealed space suit. Where was the oxygen tank on this thing?
Suddenly the voices in the hallway grew louder. They climbed out of the suits as quickly as they could, then clamped the helmets back on, so no tell-tale smell would escape, and shoved the suits back in the lockers. There was a toilet stall in the corner. With nowhere else to hide, they shut themselves inside.
“The hamster ball!” Peter whispered.
Willy rushed out, grabbed Squeaky and returned just in time. The outside door opened and he heard two men speaking. They were the astronauts!
“Commander, how many minutes they keeping us on stage?” one said.
“Think about ten,” the other said. “Got a full house. Though I hear a class of ballerinas and a ladies’ knitting club canceled due to sudden illness. So it’s mostly primary school brats.”
“Yeah, gonna be the same old dumb questions. ‘What happens if you fart in your space suit?’”
“‘What happens if you need to barf in space?’”
“‘What if you have to scratch your butt during a space walk?’”
Inside the toilet stall, Willy nodded. Those were the exact questions he’d been planning to ask. He heard the clack of the lockers opening. The space suits being taken out. Some muttering about a faint smell. Heard the astronauts climbing into their suits and the snap of the helmets being fastened.
This was followed by muffled coughing inside the space suits, which turned into gasping and gagging.
Willy turned to Peter, who looked just as frightened as he himself felt. They peeked under the toilet stall door.
Both astronauts staggered around the room, gurgling and retching, desperately trying to undo the fasteners on their helmets. One tripped over a changing bench, fell flat on his back, and lay still.
The other spun in circles, yanking open one of his helmet clasps, but it was too late.
His knees folded, his body twisted, eyes rolled up in his head. He crumpled against the toilet stall door.
“We’re in humongous trouble,” Willy said. “They’re going to come looking for them.”
“Maybe not. Give me a hand,” Peter said.
They opened the stall door and dragged the nearest astronaut inside. He was stone cold unconscious. They propped him up into sitting position on the toilet seat, then latched the door shut and crawled out underneath.
The other astronaut lay sprawled across the floor. Peter made sure he was still zonked out, then they removed his helmet and pulled the astronaut out of the space suit.
“Eww,” Willy said. The astronaut wore nothing but stretchy long underwear.
Squeaky came over and checked out the helmet, as if it was another hamster ball. It was so cute, Willy took out his phone to snap a picture, but just then new footsteps sounded in the hallway.
They shoved the half-naked astronaut in the locker.
“Only one way out of here,” Peter said, nodding at the space suit. “You get in first, and I’ll stand on your shoulders.”
“No way!” Willy said. “You’re heavier than me.”
“Yeah, but I look older.”
“Stupider, too.”
“Shut up. Tell you what, we’ll take turns. You go first on the bottom, and later we switch places.”
Willy’s eyes teared up at the stink inside the suit, like a family of skunks had died in there, which Willy of course recognized as his own stink. That was at least better than breathing in his brother’s stale farts. Peter handed down the hamster ball and the bag with the rest of their snacks.
The footsteps paused at the door.
Peter crawled into the space suit and pulled on the helmet just as the door flew open.
“Show time, gentlemen,” said a man’s voice. “Phew. What’s that smell?”
CHAPTER 4
Space Puke
“How you doing, Commander?” the man said, not realizing that Peter and Willy were inside the space suit.
“Hey, no wonder it stinks in here.”
Willy couldn’t see, but he heard the man knock on the toilet stall door.
“Lieutenant Samson, finish your business quick, then suit up and come to the auditorium. I’ll escort Commander Major to the stage to get started.”
He slapped the back of the space suit.
“Let’s get out of here, Commander. Lucky you’ve got a helmet on. Yuck! What a stench!”
Between Peter’s weight on his shoulders, and the fact that his feet didn’t reach the end of the space boots, Willy had a tough time walking. He slid one leg forward, then the other, while Peter whispered, “Turn right here, turn left there.” Meanwhile, Squeaky rolled his ball in circles around Willy’s neck.
Willy wished they’d never gotten into this predicament. He wished he’d never listened to his brother. Ew! Did Peter just blast a silent stinker in his face? Right now he wished he’d never been born.
Soon he heard clapping and cheering. They were on the stage.
“We’re dead men,” Willy said.
“Shh! Just two more steps. Yeah. Now turn left. Okay, stop.”
Peter waved to the crowd. The cheering grew louder. Then a woman introduced Astronaut Tom Major, Commander of the first manned Moon mission of this century.
“Commander, are you able to take a bow in that suit?”
“Please, no,” Willy said.
“Come on, we’ve got to kill ten minutes,” Peter whispered.
Peter leaned forward and promptly lost his balance. Willy grabbed Peter’s legs, but it was too late. The space helmet smacked against the podium.
Squeaky rolled around Willy’s fac
e, chattering so loud it was picked up by the microphone and broadcast through the auditorium speakers. The audience laughed while Peter straightened up.
The woman announcer said, “Why don’t we open up for questions. The boy in the fourth row with the green shirt.”
“Um, Captain? What happens when you have to fart in space?”
Peter put on his deepest adult voice impersonation. “You mean like this?”
“Don’t you dare,” Willy said.
Peter dared.
He honked out a blast that sounded like a brass band and smelled like rotten dinosaur eggs.
The audience roared hysterically, which was lucky, since nobody could hear Willy’s gagging.
“That does it!” Willy hissed between coughs. “Time to switch places.”
“Aw, it was just starting to get fun.”
Peter and Willy scrambled and clawed their way over each other. It must have looked really weird, like the “astronaut” was having convulsions, because some girls screamed.
“Commander! Are you all right?” the woman announcer said.
“Sure,” Willy said in his deepest voice, which wasn’t deep at all. “Um. Got a wedgie in my undies. Hard to shake loose in a space suit.”
Willy got his first look at the auditorium. Almost every seat was filled with kids. He recognized some from his school. If only they knew!
He guessed they probably had another seven minutes left. What if someone asked a science question or something? He had to fill the time to avoid that. He also wanted revenge.
“But getting back to farts,” he said, “sometimes astronauts fart like this.”
Peter’s protest was drowned by Willy’s grand performance: leading with a high squealer, down to a splattering lawn mower engine, then ending with a deep, watery butt gargle. Peter swooned beneath him. Served him right.
The audience went mad. Adults screamed. Kids fell off their seats. Hundreds of people let off their own farts.
