Shake, Rattle, and Hurl!

by R. L. Stine

  Rotten School

  Shake, Rattle, & Hurl!

  R.L. Stine

  Illustrations by Trip Park

  For Cameron

  –TP

  Contents

  Map

  Morning Announcements

  1. How I Lost My Lunch

  2. The Plopps

  3. Bird Plop

  4. Gassy Shows Off

  5. The New Act Is Big!

  6. Heinie Trouble

  7. Kidnapped!

  8. Who’s the Dummy?

  9. Baboom Baboom

  10. “Ow!”

  11. The Greatest Rock Guitar Ever!

  12. A Star Is Born

  13. Help from a Water Bottle

  14. Not Nice in Nyce House

  15. The Music Lover

  16. Why I Sat on Chipmunk

  17. Urrrrrrp

  18. Urp Urp Urpurpurp

  19. The Big Show

  20. We Have a Winner and a Loser!

  About the Author

  Other Books by Rotten School Series

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Map

  MORNING ANNOUNCEMENTS

  Good morning, Rotten Students. This is Headmaster Upchuck. I hope you’re all ready for another Rotten day. Here are the morning announcements….

  Congratulations to Eric Spindlebag, who won a national essay contest. The topic was: WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A CONCERNED CITIZEN OF OUR NATION. And Eric’s essay was titled “What Do I Win?”

  Buck Naykid, president of the Fifth-Grade Losers Club, makes this request: “Yes, we are losers. But we don’t like to be called losers. We like to be called winner-challenged. Thank you.”

  Those students who insist on wearing superhero costumes to class: Please hang your capes in your lockers. And make sure your tights fit properly so we don’t have any more embarrassing problems like last Tuesday.

  Nurse Hanley has an important reminder to all first graders: Vaseline is not a food.

  And here’s a special dinner announcement: Chef Baloney announces that it’s Endangered Species Night in the Dining Hall.

  Chapter 1

  HOW I LOST MY LUNCH

  “Yo! Looking way good today, dudes!” I said to my buddies Feenman and Crench.

  “Thanks, Bernie,” Feenman said.

  He had yellow stains on the front of his school blazer. That meant he had eggs for breakfast.

  Crench’s fly was open, and the bottom of his school tie poked out.

  They’re both total slobs. But I like to encourage my guys. So I lie and tell them how good they look.

  It’s a nice lie, right?

  They plopped their lunch trays down on the table.

  “What are you eating, Bernie?” Feenman asked. He poked his nose into my plate.

  “I’m on a health food kick,” I said. “Pizza and French fries.”

  Down the table, our buddy Beast burped so hard, he rocketed off his chair. When Beast burps, big chunks fly from his mouth and sail across the room.

  If you don’t duck in time, it can get pretty gross.

  Beast climbed back up and began pawing food into his mouth with both hands. When he finished, he had chili and spaghetti noodles all over his face and stuck in his hair. For dessert he pulled stuff out of his hair and ate it.

  I’m thinking of entering Beast in the school Talent Contest next week. His talent is making everyone sick!

  My buddies and I have our own table in the Dining Hall—the Rotten House table. See, Rotten House is the name of the dorm we live in. Actually, it’s a broken-down old house. But we love it.

  We live on the third floor. Which is perfect for spitting on people down below. Of course, we’d never do such a rude thing. We’d never even think about it.

  You probably go home every day after school. But we don’t. The Rotten School is a boarding school. We live here.

  I’m Bernie Bridges. Maybe you’ve heard of me. I mean, word does get around about guys who are smart, and popular, and natural-born leaders.

  I would never say that about myself, of course. But I’ve heard others say it about me.

  I finished my pizza and admired my reflection in the empty plate. If only I weren’t so modest! I could tell you what an awesome-looking dude I am.

  I looked up and saw Beast emptying the salt and pepper shakers into his open mouth. Cool dude.

  Lunch is always a fun time here in the Dining Hall. It’s a huge room, with a cafeteria line at one end. And rows and rows of tables, enough for kids from all three dorms.

  I started to get up to get another slice of pizza. But I stopped when I heard a sound at the front of the room.

  A honk. And then a drumbeat. A tweet. Another honk.

  I turned to the front and saw a band getting ready to play.

  And that’s when I nearly lost my lunch.

  Chapter 2

  THE PLOPPS

  Which dorm do we Rotten House dudes hate the most?

  Nyce House.

  And there, at the front of the Dining Hall, stood the Nyce House Band, getting ready to play.

  I saw my archenemy, that spoiled, rich kid Sherman Oaks. Sherman has no talent. He’s too rich to bother with talent.

  So he always stands to the side and shakes a tambourine. Sometimes, he hires a kid to shake the tambourine for him!

  The star of the band is Sherman’s good buddy Wes Updood. Wes is maybe the best saxophone player in the universe. Even counting planets that haven’t been discovered yet. He’s that good. He’s also the coolest dude in school. Disgusting, right? I watched Sherman Oaks step up to a microphone. “Hello, dudes and dudettes,” he boomed, tossing back his perfect blond hair. “You all know me. The one-and-only Sherman Oaks. My Nyce House Band came to play for you today. No need to applaud. We know we’re way fabulous!”

  I stuck my finger down my throat and made a gagging noise.

  Wes stepped up beside Sherman, carrying his saxophone. “Jack of diamonds, everyone!” he said. “Jack of diamonds, man. Silver dollars—no change!”

  I told you Wes is the coolest guy in school. He’s so totally cool, no one ever knows what he’s talking about!

  “Silver dollars!” Wes repeated, pumping his fist in the air. “Pudding for everyone! Blue skies, people!”

  Huh? I wish I was cool enough to understand that.

  Wes raised his saxophone to his mouth, and the band started to play. Kids all over the Dining Hall started to clap as music poured from Wes’s sax.

  His hands moved frantically over the horn. He swung it from side to side. He leaned way back and let the notes float up to the rafters. Then he ducked low, and the sounds came out like an animal growl.

  As the other players kept the beat, Wes made his saxophone sing and honk and wail and cry.

  I felt sick. I hated the grin on Sherman’s face as he shook his tambourine, his eyes closed.

  I glanced around the big room. Kids were loving it. My eyes stopped at the girls’ table near the band. I saw April-May June rocking and bopping to the music.

  April-May June, my girlfriend—only she doesn’t know it yet. She was swaying from side to side, clapping her hands—really into it.

  Oh, sick.

  I had to look away. I turned to Feenman and Crench. Crench was slapping his hands to the rhythm, slapping them on Feenman’s head.

  “Stop it,” I said. “What is the big deal here?” I had to shout over the music.

  “Wes is awesome!” Feenman said, shaking his head in time to the music.

  “Give me a break.” I groaned. “What’s so hard about playing a saxophone? You blow into it and move your fingers around. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Wes Updood is gonna win the Talent C
ontest again this year,” Feenman said.

  I rolled my gorgeous brown eyes. “So what?”

  Feenman leaned closer. “Know what the prize is? Two tickets to see The Plopps concert. And you get to meet them backstage.”

  “The Plopps?” I started to choke. Feenman had to pound me on the back. “The P-p-plopps?” I gasped.

  My heart pounded. My eyeballs started rolling around in my head.

  “The Plopps?” I cried, leaping to my feet. “They’re my favorite band! I’ve downloaded every song they ever did!”

  “Easy, Bernie, easy,” Crench said, pulling me back into my seat.

  But I couldn’t calm down. “The Plopps! The Plopps!” I cried. “Have you heard their greatest hits CD? Plopping Across America?”

  I realized I was drooling.

  Crench wiped my chin for me with his blazer sleeve. “Yeah,” he said. “Those two Plopp sisters are hot.”

  “I can’t believe Wes Updood is gonna meet them,” Feenman said. “And he’ll probably take his best buddy, Sherman Oaks, to the concert with him.”

  “No way!” I said. I jumped to my feet again. “Rotten House has got to win the Talent Contest this year! I’m going to that Plopps concert. No one can stop me!”

  Chapter 3

  BIRD PLOP

  Famous last words, right?

  “Bernie, we can’t win the Talent Contest,” Feenman said, shaking his head.

  “Yeah. We’ve got one little problem,” Crench said.

  “Problem? What problem?” I asked.

  They both answered together: “We don’t have any TALENT!”

  I felt sick. I ate three more slices of pizza, but they didn’t go down well.

  I sat at the table, watching the Nyce House Band, thinking hard. Thinking about the awesome Plopp sisters. I had to meet them. I had to win the contest.

  Wes Updood jumped up on a table. He leaned way back, blowing his heart out, rocking the room. He played so hard and loud, his face turned bright red, his ears popped out, and his hair stood straight up on end.

  All the kids in the Dining Hall crowded around the table. They were clapping and shouting and dancing and rocking to the music.

  Big deal, I thought.

  So he’s talented. It takes more than talent to win a talent show.

  After lunch, I caught up to April-May June on the Great Lawn. It was a warm, sunny day. Butterflies fluttered over the grass. Birds twittered in the branches of the rotten apple trees.

  “Hey, whussup?” I said to April-May. “I like what you did with your hair. Is that a new hair clip or something?”

  “I have bird plop in my hair,” she said. “I should never walk under the apple trees. I’m hurrying to my room to wash it out.”

  April-May always acts like she’s in a hurry whenever I see her. That’s because she doesn’t know she’s my girlfriend yet.

  I had to jog to keep up with her. “April-May, can I ask you an important question?” I said.

  “No,” she answered. She started to run faster.

  “Would you like to come see The Plopps concert with me?” I shouted after her.

  “I’m going to the concert with Wes Updood,” she said. “After he wins the Talent Contest.”

  I tackled her around the waist to slow her down. “What if Wes doesn’t win?” I said.

  She tossed back her head and laughed for about five minutes. “Bernie, did you just hear Wes play? He was awesome! He’s the most talented kid in the whole school!”

  I rolled my eyes. “April-May, there’s more to life than being the most talented,” I said. “What about good looks?”

  I pulled off my glasses and flashed her my best smile. When I smile, I have two adorable dimples in my cheeks. It’s my best feature. It takes a heart of stone to ignore them.

  “Take your good looks for a long walk, Bernie,” April-May said.

  She took off, running full speed toward the girls’ dorm. Her blond hair flew behind her. The big hunk of bird plop glowed in the sunlight.

  “Does that mean you’ll go with me?” I shouted.

  She made a rude spitting noise.

  I took that for a maybe.

  I walked off, muttering to myself. I talk to myself a lot. Who else understands pure genius?

  “You’ll see,” I said. “You’ll change your mind, April-May. I’m gonna win that contest. You’ll see. I’ve got a plan….”

  Chapter 4

  GASSY SHOWS OFF

  After dinner I hurried back to Rotten House and gathered my buddies in my room.

  Feenman, Crench, and Belzer are crammed into the tiny room across the hall from me. It used to be a closet. I have my own room, about five times as big.

  They insisted I take it. They wanted me to have my own room. They knew I need a lot of space for scheming and thinking and planning. And I needed space to hang my favorite poster—the life-size poster of ME!

  Feenman and Crench were fighting over a bag of potato chips. They kept snatching the bag out of each other’s hands—until the bag tore open and the chips all fell to the floor.

  Gassy, my big, beautiful bulldog, dove on the chips and snuffled them all up in less than ten seconds, and then licked all the salt off the floor.

  Can you guess how Gassy got his name?

  I turned to my friend Belzer. “Did you walk Gassy tonight?”

  Belzer flashed me his crooked grin. He had taken off his school blazer. He was wearing a T-shirt with big, red letters that said: PARDON MY FRENCH.

  I don’t know where he finds these lame T-shirts.

  “I walked Gassy,” Belzer said. “Then I fed him.”

  “Did you taste his food first to make sure it was warm enough?” I asked.

  Belzer nodded. “I ate a few spoonfuls out of the can.”

  Good kid, Belzer. It took a long time to train him. But it was worth it.

  My three friends dropped down on the edge of my bed. “Don’t wrinkle the bedspread,” I said. “It’s pure silk.”

  I pulled Gassy into the center of the room. “Okay, quiet, everyone. Quiet. I’m gonna show you the killer act that’s gonna win the Talent Contest.”

  I started to feel excited. I knew I had something BIG.

  “What’s your act, Bernie?” Crench asked. “Card tricks or something?”

  “Crench,” I answered, “why would I do card tricks when I have Gassy the Great here?”

  I pulled the fat bulldog to his feet. He plopped on his stomach again.

  “Belzer, hold him up,” I said. “You know he doesn’t like to stand up on his own.”

  Belzer grabbed Gassy around the belly and hoisted him to his feet.

  “Now watch carefully, dudes,” I said. “An amazing trick. I taught Gassy how to count to one!”

  “Huh?” Crench said, scratching his hair. “Bernie, one isn’t very high.”

  “For a dog?” I cried. “For a dog, it’s like counting to a million! It’s taken me all week to get him to count to one. But watch. It’s brilliant. It can’t lose.”

  Belzer held the dog up. I stared Gassy in the eye. “Go ahead, boy,” I said. “Start counting!”

  Gassy didn’t move. Then we heard a long, loud

  “Ohhhh!” Belzer let out a groan and let go of the dog. “He stinks! Oh, man, he STINKS! Air! Air! I need AIR!”

  Feenman and Crench held their noses.

  “Bernie, your act STINKS!” Feenman said.

  “But that’s ONE!” I exclaimed. “Don’t you see? That’s how he counts to one!”

  Another loud noise from the fat bulldog.

  “Is he brilliant?” I asked. “Is he a genius? He just counted to two!”

  “I can’t breathe. Air! Air!” Belzer moaned.

  “Go stick your head out the window,” I said.

  But there was no room. Feenman and Crench already had their heads out the window.

  “Okay. Okay. Forget Gassy,” I said. “I’ve got a better act. This act will kill! It can’t lose.”

&nbs
p; Chapter 5

  THE NEW ACT IS BIG!

  “Dudes, check this out,” I said. I pulled Feenman and Crench back to the bed. “Sit down. Watch this.”

  “You’ve got another act, Bernie?” Belzer asked.

  I nodded. “Bernie B. always has another act!” I said. “I’m gonna win the Talent Contest for Rotten House. Have I ever let you guys down?”

  “Never!” they all cried at once.

  “Am I always there for you guys?” I asked.

  “Always!” they all cried at once.

  “Who convinced Mrs. Heinie to give extra credit if we stay in our seats for a whole class?” Belzer asked.

  “Bernie did!” Feenman and Crench cheered.

  “And who convinced Chef Baloney that Gummi Worms are an important part of a healthy breakfast?” Belzer cried.

  “Bernie did!” Feenman and Crench chanted.

  Belzer pumped his fists in the air. “And who convinced Headmaster Upchuck to put SpongeBob SquarePants on the Rotten School Honor Roll of Famous Living Americans?”

  “Actually, Billy the Brain did that,” I said.

  Billy lives downstairs. He’s the brainiest kid in school. But for some reason he thinks SpongeBob SquarePants is real.

  Anyway, we all cheered, and slapped high fives, and did the secret Rotten House Handshake.

  “Okay, simmer down, guys,” I said. “I want to show you this new act. This one can’t lose. I’m going to do impressions of all our teachers. The judges will go crazy for this.”