by Mark Thomas
When Farts Had Colors
Mark Lawton Thomas
Copyright © 2011 Peak City Publishing and Mark Lawton Thomas
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without express written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages as part of a review.
Published by Peak City Publishing at Smashwords
Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or, dead, is purely coincidental.
DEDICATION
For my two favorite old farts, Malcolm and Vera, the greatest parents in the world!
ATTENTION PARENTS, TEACHERS & KIDS
Check out our website and find games, puzzles, a Grown Up Guide and a few surprises! See you there!
www.WhenFartsHadColors.com
Table of Contents
Mondays Stink
Silent but Deadly
Pull my Finger
A Master at Both Ends
What Colors Mean
Sound the Alarm
No Where to Go
Wish Kiss Come True
Seen and not Heard
Breaking News
Pepperoni, Cheese, Garlic and
Stinky Merry
Royal Roses
Sweet
Merry’s Last Words
About the Author
Chapter 1
MONDAYS STINK
Mondays stink! But for Lance Chance (Yes, dear reader that actually is our hero's real name. And, believe-you-me, that name will cause its fair share of problems at school. But you'll see for yourself soon enough. Now where were we?), Mondays didn't just stink— they stunk! They stunk worse than a sewer skunk. And what made Mondays even stunkier was the fact that Lance couldn't do anything about it.
But this morning Lance would try. Again. "Mom, I don't feel like going to school today," Lance said.
Lance sat at the kitchen table spooning cereal very carefully into his mouth. Lance loved cornflakes, but milk sometimes gave him … well, it gave him gas. Lance was what you called lactose intolerant. His two-year-old sister, Billie, loved to say Lance was a "lack-toes-holler-runt!"
"Lance, you didn't feel like going to school last Monday, either. And the Monday before that. Shall I go on?" asked Lance's mom.
"Nope," Lance replied.
At least Lance's Monday wasn't going to be a complete stink-o-rama. His mom had just finished making his favorite lunch. Pepperoni cheese sandwiches with garlic sauce. Yum!
Lance glanced up from his bowl of cereal and made one final attempt. "Mom, I think I missed the bus. Looks like I won’t make it to school on time. Might as well stay home."
"Young man, you don't ride a school bus. Do I need to remind you that your school is only five blocks away?"
"But, Mom, I—"
"Now, Lance. Children should be—"
"seen and not heard," Lance and his mom finished together. They both started laughing because his mom had been saying this corny phrase for as long as Lance could remember.
"Okay, Lance, here. Your favorite sandwiches of all time: pepperoni cheese with garlic sauce."
"Yes!" exclaimed Lance.
Lance’s mom handed him his lunch bag. "Guard these with your life! And here's one more thing.” On the top of Lance’s head she planted a kiss.
"That's a 'wish-kiss'. You get to make just one wish today. Just one. Remember that. Now, off to school with you, Sir Lance," Lance’s mom ordered.
"Thanks, Mom. I love you. Bye."
And with that, Lance hurried out the door.
His mom, on the other hand, just stood there in the kitchen sniffing … smelling something that was growing more awful by the second.
"Whoa! What the devil is that smell!" Then Lance’s mother began to yell, "Lance! I'm gonna get you. You stinkin' little fartster!"
Chapter 2
SILENT BUT DEADLY
Whew! That was close. Lance had accidentally let out a "silent but deadly" fart. The kids at school had recently coined a new phrase for it: the escapee.
"An escapee in the kitchen, of all places. I'll never hear the end of it when I get back home," Lance thought as he made his way down the sidewalk to Alfonso Orr Elementary.
"Good Morning, Lance," called out Mrs. Bloomberg.
"Good Morning, Mrs. Bloomberg," Lance yelled back.
Lance was presently standing in the front of Mrs. Bloomberg’s house. Mrs. Bloomberg, one of Lance's neighbors, could always be found outside in her rose garden—pruning, plucking, fertilizing. There was always something that needed to be done.
"How are the Royal Victorias doing, Mrs. Bloomberg?" asked Lance. The Royal Victorias were Mrs. Bloomberg's award-winning roses
"They smell like winners to me," Mrs. Bloomberg chuckled. "I'm surprised to see you going to school this morning. I guess the 'missed- the-school-bus' trick didn't work."
"No, but it was a good idea. Thanks anyway. Mrs. Bloomberg, did I ever tell you that Mondays stink?" asked Lance.
"Yes. I believe every Monday at about this exact time," Mrs. Bloomberg checked her watch. "Yep. Right about now," she smiled.
“But remember, Lance, Mondays are a lot like roses. They may have their thorny parts, but there's always something sweet to smell," Mrs. Bloomberg said very sagely.
"Have a good day, Lance. Keep smelling the good stuff.”
"You too, Mrs. Bloomberg," replied Lance. "Keep smelling the good stuff."
"I'll do my best," Mrs. Bloomberg said.
Lance was just one block from school and feeling a bit more optimistic, thanks to Mrs. Bloomberg, when suddenly an ominous voice cried out from behind his back.
"Hey, squirt! Pull my finger!"
Chapter 3
PULL MY FINGER
It was a voice that invoked sheer terror into the hearts and minds of every fourth grader at Alfonso Orr Elementary. It was a voice that curled the blood. A voice that stupefied the brain. A voice that soiled the undergarments. A voice that ... well, you get the picture. The aforementioned voice belonged to none other than Merry Maddox, fourth grade bully extraordinaire. A legend.
"I said PULL MY FINGER!" bellowed Merry Maddox. She waved a bruised and scab-covered finger in Lance's face.
"I-I-I don't want to," stammered Lance.
Out of nowhere, Fred and Ted appeared, flanking Merry Maddox on each side. Fred
"Yeah, pull her finger," Fred and Ted said in unison. "Pull it!"
Suddenly, Lance experienced something that people who have died on operating tables and were miraculously brought back to life reported. Lance was having an out-of-body experience! Lance felt like he was floating in mid-air above this sad, sorry scene. Lance looked down.
There were Fred and Ted, sneering and chomping. Sneering and chomping. They were popping more M&M’s into their little miserable mouths. And there was Merry Maddox, the biggest, meanest fourth grader ever to stalk the halls of Alfonso Orr Elementary. Merry Maddox. What a strange and most peculiar name, Lance thought. There was certainly nothing merry about Merry. But the name Maddox was sublime and most fitting. She was always angry about something, and she was stronger than any county fair ox. Merry Maddox. Yes, the name suited her. And there he was. Poor, pitiful, pathetic—
“Lance Chance! This is your last chance!” screamed Merry Maddox.
And just like that, the out-of-body experience abruptly ended. Lance was back in his shaking, quivering little body.
“If you don't pull my finger, I’m gonna break one of yours!” Merry Maddox threatened.
And with that, Lance pulled. For an instant it seem
ed as if time itself stood still and then … Barroomf! It was the loudest fart Lance had ever heard. It rattled windows for blocks. Lance wondered if the petals of Mrs. Bloomberg's Royal Victoria's had been blown off to some far and distant land—perhaps the outer reaches of Mongolia. The fart was a supersonic blast of unparalleled proportions. And Merry Maddox was its master. The sound of the fart reverberated in Lance's ears for several minutes and then, nothing. It was over. For a few seconds Lance began to worry if he had gone deaf.
“That wasn't so bad, was it? Huh, squirt?” asked a beaming Merry Maddox. Fred and Ted removed their earplugs.
“Oh, and by the way, give me all your sandwiches,” Merry demanded. Merry Maddox snatched the lunch bag away from Lance. She removed the two sandwiches and let the bag fall to the ground.
“Oooh! Pepperoni cheese with garlic sauce. My favorite! Tell your mommy, ‘thanks,’" Merry Maddox hissed.
“And one last thing, Lance, 'ol pal. Take good notes in class today. My finger is a bit pooped,” she laughed. And with that Merry Maddox and the Crazy M&M's sauntered off to school.
Lance stood there. Motionless, dumbfounded, and, late to class
Chapter 4
A MASTER AT BOTH ENDS
Ms. Cox, the mysterious and elusive principal of Alfonso Orr Elementary was finishing up the morning announcements when Lance entered Mr. Rubio's class, Lance's homeroom.
“… and so remember, boys and girls,” Ms. Cox blared from the intercom, “always tell the truth and take responsibility for your actions. It's a beautiful day here at Alfonso Orr Elementary. I’ll see you boys and girls. Goodbye.”
That was funny because rarely did anyone ever see Ms. Cox. It was rumored that all of her announcements were actually pre-recorded weeks in advance.
“Good morning, Lance. You're late, but that's okay. I'm glad you're here,” smiled Mr. Rubio.
Mr. Rubio was Lance's first man-teacher and his favorite by far.
“Oh, Lance, take a seat in the back just for today. Ms. Coleman borrowed your desk for a new student in her class. I can always count on you,” Mr. Rubio said.
“The back!” thought Lance. He always sat up front, first row. Everyone knew what kind of kids sat in the back. The pencil breakers, the spit ball spitters, and the … Crazy M&M's!
“Hello, Lance 'ol pal,” Merry Maddox purred as Lance reached the very last row. All the kids in class had nicknamed it Skid Row, the boulevard of broken dreams.
“Looks like we're slumming today,” continued Merry Maddox. “Come sit next to me and the boys,” she motioned towards Fred and Ted using her bruised and scab-covered finger.
Lance had no choice. It was the only empty desk left. He took a seat right next to Merry Maddox. “I might as well be climbing into the electric chair,” thought Lance.
“Don't worry, Lance, 'ol pal,” Merry Maddox whispered into Lance's ear as he slid into his seat. “I won't bite. You just take good notes, and I'll sit here and ooze my natural charm.”
And with that Merry Maddox let out a soft and stinky burp. Apparently, Merry Maddox was a master at both ends.
Chapter 5
WHAT COLORS MEAN
Mr. Rubio stood in front of the class at the chalkboard. At the top of the chalkboard, written in large letters, was the heading: WHAT COLORS MEAN. Underneath the heading, Mr. Rubio had written the names of various colors and their corresponding meanings.
Mr. Rubio began the day's lesson. “Today, children, we are going to learn what colors mean or symbolize. Can the class say the word ‘symbolize’ all together, please?” Mr. Rubio asked.
Everyone said “symbolize”. Everyone except Fred and Ted who were too busy sneering and chomping. Sneering and chomping. Lance sneaked a quick look at Merry Maddox. She was furiously chewing on a piece of scab she had torn from the Finger.
“Very good, class. As you can see, boys and girls, I've written on the board the names of various colors and what they symbolize."
Everyone said “symbolize” again and began copying the lesson into their notebooks.
Mr. Rubio continued, “For instance, the color purple symbolizes royalty or money. And the color green symbolizes jealousy or meanness. And the color gold…”
Lance stopped paying attention.
“What is that awful smell?” Lance thought. Automatically, Lance checked the bottom of his shoes. No, nothing there. And then Lance realized what the smell was. Holy Moly! Lance was engulfed in the most, stink, putrid, foul, vomit inducing stench he had ever encountered. He felt like he was going to pass out or hurl chunks. Or both.
“Jeez, someone farted," Lance mumbled to himself.
“What?” Mr. Rubio said. A characteristic of any good teacher is super hearing.
Suddenly, Fred and Ted stopped sneering and chomping. Sneering and chomping.
Fred shouted, “You smelt it, you dealt it!”
Ted jumped in, “You heard it, you served it!”
Then Fred and Ted went back to sneering and chomping. Sneering and chomping.
“Mr. Rubio, Lance Chance is farting back here,” Merry Maddox sang.
“I am not!” Lance shouted. Lance was appalled at the accusation.
Call it herd mentality, but everyone could sense that pandemonium was about to pay an unwelcome visit to Mr. Rubio's fourth grade class.
As hard as he tried to resist, Lance began to recognize the distinct odors contained in the invisible cloud of decay and destruction. Lance could smell the pepperoni. He could smell the cheese. He even detected a hint of garlic! And worst of all, he was now smelling the very essence of the rotten insides of Merry Maddox!
Surely he was going to die right there as another sad statistic on Skid Row if he didn't do something. Before Lance could announce to the class that Merry Maddox was the real culprit, Lance heard psssspoot ... psssspoot … psssspoot.
Oh, no! Merry Maddox had just fired off three heat-seeking, somewhat silent but definitely deadly farts. The class was under attack and didn't even know it yet. Mr. Rubio's students, perhaps all of mankind—the universe even— was doomed.
“Mr. Rubio,” Merry Maddox sang again, “Lance is still farting back here.”
“We don't say ‘fart.’ The proper word is ‘flatulence,’” Mr. Rubio stated.
The class tried to say “flatulence,” but some of the kids were quickly sinking like miniature Titanics lost at sea.
Fred and Ted started shouting, “Fart-u-Lance! Fart-u-Lance!” Then out of nowhere, they whipped on gas masks. (Merry Maddox, however, was immune to her own rancid rottenness. She took in a deep breath and smiled.)
Almost immediately a tsunami of the unimaginable funk swept across the room, promising to leave no child behind. The Derrick twins, who had never harmed a fly, plus three other poor souls, lost their breakfast on the tops of their desks.
“Everyone remain calm,” announced Mr. Rubio. And then the Smell began to coil its way into the nostrils of beloved Mr. Rubio.
“Holy Shetland ponies!” Mr. Rubio shrieked. “Someone pull the fire alarm! Evacuate the building! Run—for—your—” Mr. Rubio fainted right there on the spot.
Chapter 6
SOUND THE ALARM
Outside, on the front grounds of Alfonso Orr Elementary, it was a mob scene. Someone had, indeed, pulled the fire alarm. That someone, of course, was the now smug and quite self-satisfied Merry Maddox. “Anything to help out,” Merry Maddox smiled to herself.
According to school procedure, all classes were expected to file out of the building in orderly, single lines. Keeping them that way, once outside, was another story.
Poor Ms. Coleman. She had the unenviable task of keeping an eye on both her fourth grade class and Mr. Rubio's.Alas, Mr. Rubio had been carted off on a stretcher and raced to the nearest hospital by ambulance. All the kids had “Oooohed” and “Aaaahed.”
(Spoiler Alert! Dear Reader, that's you. Your favorite author, that's me, is going to commit a serious literary faux pas. I am about to dispense with the
suspense, as it were, and inform you of Mr. Rubio's fate. So if you don't want to know what happened, please stop reading this. Err, I don't mean stop reading the book, my goodness. I mean stop reading what's inside these parentheses and continue until you reach the part that says “The End.” It's found at the end.
Where was I? Oh, the fate of Mr. Rubio, our favorite fourth grade teacher. Yes, boys and girls, Mr. Rubio will make a speedy recovery. He's alive! He's alive! And he’ll return to his teaching duties tomorrow morning. What a teacher! Such dedication. Any other teacher would have taken the rest of the week off and gone fishing or something. Now back to this delightful tale.)
Ms. Coleman surveyed the scene and almost wept. She knew that any minute a fire truck, with sirens blasting, would arrive. This always made the kids go bananas. Ms. Coleman hoped and prayed that the bomb squad wasn't on its way too. During the evacuation she overheard a second grader on a forbidden cell phone crying, “There's a stinky bomb at our school. We're all going to die!”
Outside, the children were running around in circles hitting and pushing each other while others pretended to be professional wrestlers in The Ultimate Death Match, and numerous kindergarteners demanded to go to the potty. Now!
On the other hand, Merry Maddox and the Crazy M&M's sat quietly on a blanket. They had a picnic basket filled with M&M's, bottles of Yoo-hoo, an assortment of stolen sandwiches and other ill-gotten gains. Each with a Yoo-hoo in hand, they toasted their success. They clinked their bottles together and said, "Here's to our success. Yoo-hoo!" They laughed softly.
Ms. Coleman stood there, arms crossed, muttering to herself, “Keep it together, old gal. Just two more years until retirement. Just two more years.”
