by R. L. Stine
“I know, I know,” I admitted. “He had a few flaws. But—”
Just then, Babbling Brooke jumped up from the couch. “Pooper can do it! I know he can win!” she cried. “I even made up a cheer for Pooper,” Brooke said. “Here goes!”
Brooke wants to be a cheerleader so bad, and she’s always making up cheers. She even tried to be a cheerleader for the debate team. But she never got picked for any cheerleading squad at school.
She jumped into the air, clapping her hands.
“GO, POOPER! GO, POOPER!
“YOU’RE SUPER!
“YOU’RE NOT A PARTY POOPER!
“YAAAAAY!”
“Ta-da!” Brooke landed hard and did a split on the floor. I think I heard some of her bones crack.
Pooper, our big hound, snored away in the corner. I don’t think he appreciated Brooke’s cheer.
Adam Bomb scratched his head. “I guess we have to give Pooper a chance,” he said. “Maybe we can teach him some new tricks?”
“He only has one trick,” Cranky Frankie said. “And we have to clean it up every time.”
“Wake him,” Adam said. “Let’s see what he can do.”
FIVE
Nervous Rex and Rob Slob crossed the room to wake Pooper up.
“How do we wake him?” Rex asked.
“Just poke him and say, wake up,” Adam said.
Nervous Rex gasped. “I don’t want to touch him. He has f-fleas.”
“So do you!” said Cranky Frankie.
Rex started to shake. “What if he bites me?” he asked.
“Bite him back,” Frankie said.
“I’ll bite you!” Ptooey squawked, jumping up and down on his perch. “Come over here, I’ll bite you! I’ll peck your teeth out!”
“Shut your yap!” Cranky Frankie shouted at the parrot.
“Ptoooey! You shut your yap! Come over here and I’ll peck your face into Swiss cheese!”
Junkfood John strolled in from the kitchen. “Yummm.” He had a glass jar in his hand. “These are awesome. Anyone want to try some salty raisins?”
“Those aren’t raisins!” Wacky Jackie cried. “That’s my bug collection!”
Junkfood John tossed a few more into his mouth and chewed for a while. “Hey—you’re right. They are bugs!”
Rob Slob bent down and tried to lift Pooper’s head off the floor, but the dog snored away. Rob grabbed the dog’s floppy ears and pulled his head up.
Pooper didn’t open his eyes.
Nervous Rex was trembling. “I th-think we should let him sleep.”
“He’s been sleeping since Tuesday,” Wacky Jackie said. “Maybe he’s dead.”
Pooper snorted loudly but didn’t open his eyes.
“He’s not dead,” Rex said. “If he was dead, he wouldn’t smell this bad.”
Rob Slob wrapped his arms around the big dog’s middle and hoisted him onto his paws. The dog made a gulping sound and finally blinked his eyes open.
“Yaaaay!” Babbling Brooke cried. “We taught Pooper a new trick! Waking up!”
Wacky Jackie sat down on the floor beside Pooper. “Let me see if I can teach him some new tricks,” she said. “I took a training course for dogs once.”
I squinted at her. “You took a training course for dogs? Why? You’re a human,” I reminded her.
Jackie shrugged. “I wanted to see if I could pass it.”
“How did you do?” I asked.
She sighed. “I got a C. I got nervous one day, and I bit the instructor.”
Jackie turned to the dog. “Pooper—sit,” she said.
The dog stared at her with his drippy brown eyes and didn’t move.
“Sit, Pooper,” she repeated.
The dog yawned.
“Don’t start with a hard one like sit,” Brooke said. “Try something easier.”
“Pooper, stand up,” Jackie instructed.
The dog sat down.
“Pooper, stand up,” Jackie repeated.
Pooper yawned again.
“You’re teaching him to yawn,” Brooke said. “Maybe you can teach him to sneeze. The contest judges would love that.”
“I’ll try,” Jackie said. She tickled Pooper’s snout. “Sneeze, boy. Come on, sneeze.”
Pooper yawned.
Adam Bomb shook his head. “Why do I have the feeling we are wasting our time?”
Pooper rolled over and went back to sleep. But before he did, he sneezed.
At least we think it was a sneeze.
Do sneezes smell?
SIX
Adam Bomb here again. Don’t listen to Handy Sandy, I’ll tell the story now. We all knew that Pooper was a loser. There was no way he would beat the Perfects’ chihuahua in the pet show.
“We have no choice,” I said. “We have to enter Ptooey in the contest.” I turned to Brainy Janey. “What do you think of that idea?”
Janey shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said.
Everyone in the room gasped in shock.
Janey knows everything. Her brain is the size of a small planet. We’ve never heard the words “I don’t know” come from her mouth.
“Maybe we could teach Ptooey to recite a poem,” Handy Sandy said. “The judges would love that.”
I turned again to Brainy Janey. “Think that’s a good idea?”
She shrugged again. “Maybe,” she murmured.
Oh, wow. Was Brainy Janey sick? Did she really say “maybe”?
“Let’s see if Ptooey can learn a poem,” Handy Sandy said.
Nervous Rex backed out of the room. “P-poems make me n-nervous,” he said.
“Why do poems make you nervous?” I asked him.
He swallowed. “All those words. What if we don’t know what they mean?”
“Awwwwk!” the parrot squawked. “Come here! I’ve got a word for you! Ptooey!”
I turned to Brainy Janey. “Do you know the best way to teach something new to a parrot?”
She blinked at me. “No . . . I don’t.”
I suddenly had a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Janey wasn’t acting all that brainy, and definitely not acting like Janey.
I stepped up to the perch. “Let’s just try something out,” I said.
We huddled around the parrot.
“Hey, his seed dish is empty!” Sandy said.
“Sorry,” Junkfood John said. “I got a little hungry after breakfast.”
“But you already had two boxes of toaster waffles after breakfast!” I said.
Junkfood John made a disgusted face. “They were kinda cold and hard.”
“That’s because you didn’t toast them,” I said.
He nodded. “You’re probably right.”
I poked Ptooey in the belly to get his attention and he snapped his beak at my finger.
“Missed. Listen to this, Ptooey,” I said. “Let’s see if you can recite a poem.”
“Awwwwk. I’ll bite you! I’ll bite you so hard!”
I poked him again. “Just listen.” I tried to remember a poem. “I think that I shall never see, a poem lovely as a tree.”
The parrot tilted his head to one side and stared at me with one round black eye.
“Go ahead. Repeat it,” I said.
“Awwwwk,” the parrot squawked. “Pete and Repeat were in a boat. Pete fell out. Who was left?”
“Repeat,” Wacky Jackie answered.
“Awwwwk. Pete and Repeat were in a boat. Pete fell out. Who was left?”
“Repeat,” Wacky Jackie said.
“Awwwwk. Pete and Repeat were in a boat. Pete fell out. Who was left?”
“Repeat,” Wacky Jackie said again.
“Awwwwk. Pete and Repeat were in a boat. Pete fell out. Who was left?”
I clapped my hand over Wacky Jackie’s mouth. “Don’t say it!” I shouted. “Please—don’t say it!”
She pushed my hand away. “Don’t say what? Repeat?”
“Awwwwk. Pete and Repeat were in a boat. Pete fell out. Who
was left?”
“The bird is a loser,” Cranky Frankie said. “Why tell such an old joke?”
“Awwwk. You’re an old joke!” Ptooey squawked.
“I have a good recipe for linguini with parrot sauce,” Frankie said.
I poked the bird in the belly again. “One more chance, Ptooey. I know you can do it. Repeat after me. I think that I shall never see . . .”
“Awwwwk. Ptooey ptooey ptooey!”
“I think that I shall never see . . . Come on, say it,” I begged him.
“Awwwk. Ptooey ptooey. I’ll peck your nose hair!”
“This isn’t working,” I said, sighing. “Our parrot is useless. The contest judges will hate him. I hate him.”
“This is upsetting my stomach,” Luke Puke said. “We need to get a new pet—fast!”
I turned to Brainy Janey. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Yes, I do.”
SEVEN
We all turned to Brainy Janey.
“What’s your idea?” I asked.
She stared blankly at me. “I forget.”
I squinted at her. “You forgot your idea?”
“It sort of slipped my mind,” she said.
“Do you feel okay?”
“I think so,” Janey said. “Oh, I remember my idea. I was thinking about a woodchuck.”
“Huh?” My mouth dropped open. “A woodchuck? For a pet?”
Janey nodded.
“What’s a woodchuck?” Wacky Jackie asked. “Is it some kind of animal made out of wood?”
“There’s no such thing as a woodchuck,” Babbling Brooke chimed in. “You’re thinking of a muskrat.”
Nervous Rex let out a YELP. “I’m terrified of m-muskrats,” he said in a trembling voice. “I’ve never heard of them. But I’m very afraid of them.”
“There’s no such thing as a muskrat,” Junkfood John said. “You’re thinking of a hedgehog.”
“Hedgehogs are little pigs that live in hedges,” Janey said. “At least, I think they are.”
I reached out and placed my hand on Janey’s forehead. It felt a little hot. “I think you may be sick,” I said.
“Awwwk. You’re sick!” Ptooey squawked. “You make me sick! Awwwk!”
Brainy Janey snapped her fingers. “How about a flea circus?” she said. “Rob Slob has fleas. We can pull them off him and train the fleas to do tricks.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think the judges would count fleas as pets.”
“I also have dung beetles and dog ticks living in my hair,” Rob Slob said. “Maybe they’d be good.”
“Does the pet have to be alive?” Janey asked.
“I think you should go lie down,” I said. “You’re not thinking clearly, Janey. Your brain isn’t working at all.”
“Awwwk. You sit on your brain! Awwwwk.”
“Somebody cover that bird,” Cranky Frankie snapped.
“We need to call a doctor,” Nervous Rex said. “All of a sudden, Janey’s as dumb as we are!”
“I already called one,” Handy Sandy said. “He’ll be here in half an hour.”
“Just enough time!” Wacky Jackie said.
“Enough time for what?” I asked her.
“Enough time to watch the new episode of Jonny Pantsfalldown,” she replied.
Wacky Jackie and Junkfood John are obsessed with Jonny Pantsfalldown. It’s a superhero TV show. There are about four hundred episodes—and they all end the exact same way.
I’m sure you can guess what happens to Jonny at the end.
But Jackie and John don’t care. They’ve seen every episode at least ten times. And yet they are always shocked and surprised by the ending!
They pulled Brainy Janey to the couch and clicked on the TV. “You can watch with us while we wait for the doctor,” Jackie told her.
Uh-oh, I thought. This might make Janey even dumber . . .
JONNY PANTSFALLDOWN
Favorite TV superhero of Wacky Jackie and Junkfood John
Episode 455
Hold your breath, everyone! And keep your belt buckled tight for ADVENTURE! It’s time for another thrilling episode of JONNY PANTSFALL-DOWN, told by me, the world’s greatest sidekick— THE MIGHTY HAIRBALL!
“I will always protect you—unless I’m busy!”
That’s what Jonny Pantsfalldown promised the good people of Pupick Falls. And he always keeps his word.
Every night, after a healthy dinner of jellyfish patties in larva juice, Jonny puts on his cape, his mask, and his Pants of Steel. Then, side by side with me—the Mighty Hairball—he fights crime and terrifies criminals with his famous battle cry:
YODEL-AY-EEE-OOOO!
Tonight, I found Jonny in his secret walk-in closet high above the cliffs of Pupick Falls. I grabbed a handkerchief and wiped the larva juice off his chin. It’s one of the things a good sidekick does.
“We need to start cooking the jellyfish from now on,” Jonny said. “They keep getting stuck in my teeth.” Jonny has a booming deep voice, so loud it makes the wax in my ears ooze down the sides of my face.
He spit a jellyfish onto the floor. I quickly scooped it up with both hands and tucked it into my pocket.
A good sidekick—like me, the Mighty Hairball—is always ready to go into action.
Jonny was eager to get into his costume. But I saw that he was having trouble. He was tugging and squirming and groaning.
I knew what I had to do. After all, I graduated with a B-plus average from Sidekick School.
“Uh . . . Jonny,” I said, stepping up to him. “The cape goes in the back, not the front.”
He blinked at me. “Seriously?”
I wrapped my hands around the cape and tugged it to his back. “Better?”
“Much better,” Jonny replied. “When I had the cape in front, I kept tripping over it.” He rubbed his nose. “The other night I fell right on my X-ray nose. And boy did it hurt.”
He patted me on the shoulder with his new pair of perfumed, one-hundred-percent-imitation cotton gloves. “Hairball,” he boomed. “Pupick Falls owes you a debt of gratitude.” His voice was so loud, my nose began to bleed from both nostrils.
Jonny sat down and started to pull on his ultrasonic boots.
I wanted to be helpful again. “I think you have the left one and the right one mixed up.”
Jonny shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Hairball. Both of my feet are right-handed.”
He pulled the boots on and jumped to his feet. “Hairball, did you bring the steel suspenders I need to keep my pants up?”
I swallowed and blinked a few times. “No,” I said. “Sorry, Jonny. I got busy weeding in the garden, and I completely forgot.”
Jonny squinted at me. “Hairball, we don’t have a garden,” he boomed.
“Then why did I spend all that time in the dirt?” I demanded.
“Never mind, partner,” Jonny replied. “We have to move into action. We have to find a crime. Crime won’t wait for us.”
He’s very wise.
“Who is the criminal we are going to catch in the act tonight?” I asked.
“Big Bootus,” Jonny answered. “We have to stop him. He plans to paint a naughty word on the side of the bank. And we have to get there before he can pull out his can of spray paint.”
“Very good,” I said. “But what if Big Bootus is wearing a disguise? How will we recognize him?”
“Easy,” Jonny replied. “He has the biggest bootus in town.”
Jonny swept his cape behind him and began to trot to the front door. Then he stopped—he likes to pause for dramatic effect. “Hairball, are you ready for action?” he demanded.
“Almost,” I said. “I have one little problem.”
“Problem? What problem?” Jonny asked.
“My head is stuck in the toilet.”
Jonny spun around.
I was standing right behind him with the toilet upside down over my head. I couldn’t see him. But I could hear him
.
“Hairball, how did you get the toilet bowl stuck on your head?” he boomed.
I didn’t answer.
“Hairball—” Jonny shouted so loud the toilet rang like a bell. “Answer me. How did you get the toilet stuck on your head?”
“Please don’t make me say it,” I pleaded.
“You have no choice. A sidekick must answer every question,” he said. “Remember, you took an oath.”
“Okay, okay,” I groaned. “I . . . thought it was my helmet.”
“Your helmet is on the coffee table in the living room,” Jonny said. “Remember? We were on the couch, eating cracker crumbs right from the box as a little snack?”
“Yes, I remember,” I said. “My helmet and the toilet look a lot alike. Maybe I need to work on my sidekick costume. Jonny, can you help pull it off my head?”
“No problem,” he answered. I felt him tugging at the toilet. Then I felt him tugging even harder. Then he stopped.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is it stuck too tight?”
“No,” he said. “My pants fell down. It’s because I don’t have the steel suspenders to hold them up.”
“Sorry,” I murmured.
Jonny grabbed me hard by the shoulders and smashed my head into the wall. The porcelain toilet crumbled to pieces.
My head rang. “Jonny, I see stars!” I cried.
“Hairball, did you forget we have stars all over our wallpaper?”
I blinked, picking pieces of the toilet bowl out of my costume. He was right. The stars were on the wallpaper.
“No more time to lose. We have to hurry now,” Jonny said, trotting to the door. “We can’t let Big Bootus paint a naughty word on the bank wall. Not on my watch!”
Our secret headquarters stands on a high cliff, way above Pupick Falls. Jonny bent his knees, sprang up in the air—and started to fly toward town.
I get airsick, so I have to roll down the cliff.
It takes me a little longer to get there, and I get cut to pieces by the sharp rocks. But at least I’m not nauseous.
I caught up with Jonny at the edge of town. “We got here just in time,” he said.
Just in time? I checked my watch. Then I remembered I left it on the coffee table.
“There he is,” Jonny said, pointing with his imitation-cotton glove. “There’s Big Bootus!”
