Sweet Farts #2: Rippin' It Old School (Sweet Farts Series)

by Raymond Bean

  “You’re in charge, son. That’s what you are. And we’ll come up with something amazing to blow everyone away at your next science fair,” Dad said.

  “Yeah, Farts,” Anthony said. “You can count on us.”

  That’s what I’m concerned about, I thought.

  CHAPTER 7

  I Have No Idea

  Monday morning at six o’clock I sat at my desk in my room staring at my calendar. It was October 4. I flipped to November 15 and wrote “Mr. Gonzalez returns” and then turned to November 22 and wrote “Science Fair and Helen Winifred Show.” I also realized that the fair was during Thanksgiving week. I didn’t know how thankful I’d be feeling, given the way things were going.

  No one else was awake yet, so I went downstairs. It was nice to sit in complete quiet for a change. It had been a crazy weekend, between the interviews, seeing Mr. Gonzalez, the barf fest, and realizing our ideas were limited to fart experiments and square fruit. I was definitely in trouble. I had to think of something quick.

  I poured a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice. Then I got the feeling that someone was watching me. I turned around, and sure enough, Emma was sitting at the table. “Good morning, Emma,” I said, taking a bite. I felt a little bad because I realized I hadn’t spent any time with her all weekend. I leaned toward her and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

  She immediately rattled one off the wooden kitchen chair. “Blueberry today, big brothow,” she whispered and gave me two thumbs up.

  Wow, I thought, Mom was right. Emma was getting a little carried away with the farting. She didn’t seem to understand that even though I had fixed the smell of farts it was still not something to be done around others. Maybe it was time for one of our big-brother-to-little-sister talks.

  “Emma,” I began, “you know that you can’t keep making bubbles any time you like, right? It’s not polite.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just think it’s fun.” She was smiling the cutest smile you’ve ever seen.

  “Okay, but you know not to do it in places like school and stuff, right?”

  “Why not? They smell so pretty. I eat a different scent every day. Tomorrow I’m gonna eat Tangaween.” Still smiling.

  “You mean Tangerine.”

  Just then Mom walked in. “Good morning, you guys,” she said. “Keith, I see you have breakfast. Emma, darling, what would you like?”

  “I want candy, please,” Emma said with a big smile on her face.

  “Emma, you can’t have candy,” I reminded her.

  “Besides candy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wellllll, pretty much nothing.”

  I looked at Mom. She made an I-told-you-so face. “Emma, I am making you pancakes, and you will have fifteen minutes to eat them.”

  “I don’t like pancakes. I want candy…hmmmmph!” Emma said, crossing her arms. She seemed to think that crossing her arms would make everyone listen to her. What she failed to realize was that it just made Mom mad.

  “Well, that’s what I want,” she replied.

  “What else do you like for breakfast?” I asked her.

  “I’d love to hang around and see how this plays out, but I need to get to school,” I said. “And then I’m going to the lab afterwards, so I won’t see you guys until late. Grandma is going to pick me up and take me there after school.”

  “I want to go to the lab,” Emma whined.

  “You can’t, Emma. You’re too young. Maybe when you’re older you can come in and see it, okay?”

  “I want to go right now.”

  I gave her another kiss on the forehead. “When you’re older,” I promised. “I love you. Now, please take it easy with all the farting today.”

  Emma looked up at me with her big eyes and tore another one off the seat. “Blueberry again. Enjoy, everybody,” she said, laughing.

  Mom rolled her eyes in disgust.

  “Like I said, I have to get going.” I grabbed my backpack and headed for the door.

  “Keith,” my mom called after me.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks again for Sweet Farts,” she said sarcastically. “It’s really changed my life for the better.” Then her tone changed and she continued, “I know you’re very busy right now, but you are going to have to help me with your sister. She is getting out of control with this.”

  I thought it was odd that my mom was putting this on me. She was the mom, after all. Shouldn’t she be the one raising my sister?

  “I’ll try, Mom, but I’m pretty nuts right now, with Mr. Gonzalez coming back in six weeks and the science fair and The Helen Winifred Show on November twenty-second.”

  “Please tell me you are not going on The Helen Winifred Show! Please tell me your sister’s gas has caused me to enter a dreamlike state and this is not my reality. I have been embarrassed enough with all this Sweet Farts hoopla already. I don’t think I could take you going on my favorite show and talking about farts.”

  “I’m going to invent something new, Mom. Don’t worry; it’s going to be fine.”

  “Well, then what are you doing this year for the fair?” she asked.

  “I have no idea. I have absolutely no idea,” I admitted.

  “Fantastic, that makes me feel much better,” she said. “Just know that every mom in America watches that show.” Suddenly she stopped, the color drained from her face, and she ran to her calendar. “Did you say November twenty-second?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Because that is the Thanksgiving episode, Keith! It’s one of the biggest shows of the year. Wonderful! My son is going to be on Helen Winifred’s show Thanksgiving week to talk about how he fixed farts.” She had taken the calendar down from the wall and was shaking it in front of her. “The other moms are never going to let me live this down, you know.”

  “Mom?” Emma interrupted.

  “Yes, Emma?”

  “You don’t like the word faawwt, remembow?”

  Mom looked defeated. I turned and grabbed my backpack and ran out the door.

  CHAPTER 8

  We ♥ Farts

  I noticed a weird energy the minute I got on the school bus. Kids were looking at me and giggling and then looking away. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was going on.

  Scott got on at his stop and sat down next to me. He had his jacket zipped all the way up to his neck. He never had his jacket zipped. Mr. Cherub was always telling him to zip up so he wouldn’t get sick, but Scott is one of those kids who won’t wear a coat even if it is freezing out. So the jacket, on and zipped, was suspicious.

  “What’s going on today, Scott?”

  “Nothing. Just another Monday in paradise, my friend.”

  “I mean, why is everyone acting funny? And why is your jacket on and zipped all the way up?”

  “My jacket is on because it is cold out and I am going to start listening to Mr. Cherub.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second. What’s going on?” I looked around the bus again, and everyone’s eyes darted away from mine.

  “It’s just another day in paradise. I’m not sure what to tell you,” he replied with a smile.

  Something was up, but I couldn’t figure out what. Once we reached school, Scott and I got off the bus. We made our way into the building, down the hall, and finally into the classroom, and that’s when I figured it out. Everyone in the class had on the same button, including Mr. Cherub. The button read “We ♥ Farts.” I turned to Scott, who had taken off his jacket to reveal the very same button.

  “You’re welcome,” he said with a smile before heading off to his seat.

  “Keith, good morning. I hope you had a nice weekend,” Mr. Cherub began. “Your friends got together and gave us all these buttons in order to support you as you make your final approach to the science fair.”

  “I don’t understand. Isn’t the entire class doing science-fair projects?” I asked.

  “Of course, but yours is the only one that will be on The Helen Win
ifred Show. Yours is the only one that will represent our school worldwide. Yours is the one we are all counting on.” I thought it was kind of funny how Mr. Cherub had been so against my science-fair idea back in fourth grade, and now he was acting like my biggest fan even though he didn’t know what my idea was (and neither did I).

  From across the room Scott pointed to his button and winked.

  A hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. “Good morning, Farts,” Anthony greeted me.

  “I said I don’t want to be called Farts,” I replied.

  “Too late, pal. Just have fun with it today, okay? Try not to be so uptight.”

  I turned and headed for my seat. Along the way I was called Farts by just about everyone in the class. Where had all these buttons come from?

  “Good morning, Harborside Elementary!” The principal’s voice boomed over the school PA system. “I wish to extend a special Harborside good morning to our science whiz, Keith Emerson.

  Keith, we are all so proud of your accomplishments from last year, and we can’t wait to see what you come up with for this year’s science fair. We’re proud of you, Farts…I mean, Keith. In other school news…”

  His voice just sort of trailed off. I didn’t hear anything else he was saying. I was lost in my own worries. As I looked around the room, it hit me. This year’s fair was going to be terrible! Before I invented Sweet Farts, no one expected anything from me. This year the expectations were off the charts. They thought I was a great scientist. What was I going to do? Then, over the PA, I heard the words no kid ever wants to hear in the morning announcements: “Keith Emerson, please come to the principal’s office right away.”

  CHAPTER 9

  No Pressure

  I walked into Principal Michaels’s office cautiously. The last time I was there he ordered me to complete my Sweet Farts experiment, so I was pretty sure this meeting wasn’t going to be good either.

  “Keith,” he began, leaning back in his chair, “have a seat. I want to begin by saying how proud the whole school community is of you. By inventing Sweet Farts you have brought a great deal of attention to our little school. As you know, I am a huge Benjamin Franklin fan.” He pointed to a picture of Benjamin Franklin on the wall behind me.

  “Yes, sir, I remember you telling me that before.”

  “Well, as a fan of Mr. Franklin, I take very seriously the fact that when you invented Sweet Farts you were able to successfully complete a scientific challenge the great Benjamin Franklin introduced. What you did was historic. Benjamin Franklin wrote in 1781 that if anyone could cure the smell of human gas, it would be the greatest scientific discovery of all time; and you, Keith, met that challenge.”

  “I know, Mr. Michaels. We’ve talked about it a million times.”

  “I just want to make sure that you understand the importance of what you have done. You are on a path to greatness. If you play your cards right, you could be a truly great scientist.”

  “Thank you, sir, but I should probably get back to class.”

  “Keith, Mr. Gonzalez is one of the most respected scientific minds in the world. He sees something in you. I see something in you. I just want to make sure that you are not wasting this newfound independence playing sports and video games over at your new lab.” He leaned forward with a concerned look on his face.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve been wasting my time. Just yesterday we had a great meeting, and we knocked around a few ideas.” I left out the fact that they were all terrible, of course.

  “Good! I’m glad to hear you are on the ball. I would hate to see the science fair come along and you miss the opportunity to wow the world once again.”

  I felt a rush of nervous energy run from the tip of my toes to the top of my head. I had never felt that kind of pressure. The scary truth was that there was a very good chance I would fail. The only problem was, no one knew it but me.

  “I also wanted to tell you that I am willing to allow Scott and Anthony to help you, so the work they do will count toward their projects. But that is entirely up to you, of course. It is your company, after all. If you want their help, great. If not, they will be responsible for their own projects.”

  “I’ll think about it, Mr. Michaels,” I replied, their Silencer idea popping into my head. “Right now we seem to be thinking of different ideas, but we’ll figure something out.”

  He reached out to shake my hand, and that’s when I noticed the “We ♥ Farts” button on his tie. “By the way,” he said, “have you decided on a company name yet?”

  I shook my head. “I’m still working on that, too, Mr. Michaels.”

  As I left his office, two very frightening thoughts crossed my mind. Number one: I really had no idea what I was going to do for the fair. And number two: Scott and Anthony actually had an idea already. Those two knuckleheads were further along than I was! I was biting my nails as I walked down the hall toward class.

  CHAPTER 10

  Show and Smell

  Grandma dropped me off at home later that night. We had been working at the lab for several hours, and it was after eight when I walked in. Emma was already in bed, and Mom and Dad were at the dinner table talking. They seemed pretty serious.

  “What’s going on, guys?” I asked.

  “Well, son, your sister had show-and-tell today at school. Would you like to guess what she brought in to show all her little friends?” Dad asked.

  “A teddy bear?” I asked hopefully.

  “No,” my mom interrupted. “She brought in a backpack jammed full of Sweet Farts packets. She talked for twenty minutes about how much she loves to pass gas. Her teacher said she actually passed gas several times during her presentation, for crying out loud! The teacher wants to have a parent-teacher conference with me and your dad first thing tomorrow morning!” Mom got up and walked into the kitchen to put her plate in the sink. She looked like she was about to cry.

  Dad had his hand in front of his mouth like he was thinking really hard, but when I looked closer, I could see that he was trying not to laugh. He wouldn’t even look at me. You know how it is when you are trying hard not to crack up. He knew if he looked at me he would lose it.

  “Wow, Mom,” I said in a loud voice so she could hear me in the kitchen. “Dad seems pretty upset about this; he won’t even look at me.” I sat down in the chair right across from him.

  Mom walked back into the room and sat next to me. “Come on, Keith. You and I know that your dad is just trying to keep from laughing.” My dad finally burst into hysterics.

  “I can’t help it,” Dad gasped. “I just keep getting the image in my head of Emma talking to her class for twenty minutes about farts. It just strikes me as so funny. She called it ‘show-and-smell.’” Tears were rolling down his cheeks now. My mother and I did not crack even the tiniest smile, but Dad would stop for a second and then just lose control again.

  “Of course,” he finally managed to say, “this is no joking matter.” He stood up and tried his best to be serious. “I…I can’t help it,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes as he left the room.

  My mom made a face. “Your father will be back once he gets control of himself. We need a plan for her, Keith. It’s not just the gas passing with her lately. She isn’t eating. You were tough to feed when you were her age, but she is scaring me. I’m taking her to the doctor tomorrow after school because she isn’t gaining weight like she should.”

  “Aren’t kids supposed to stay thin to be healthy?” I asked.

  “Yes, but your sister is getting to the point where she doesn’t want anything but candy and chips. She won’t eat any sort of meat, vegetable, or fruit. I haven’t even been able to get her to eat pizza lately.”

  “What do you mean? She seriously won’t eat anything healthy?” I asked. “What has she been eating?”

  “I can’t remember the last time she ate anything that wasn’t a pretzel or a lollipop.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, I don’t want to ala
rm you, Keith, but this is a real problem. I weighed her the other day, and she had actually lost weight this month. That is not a good thing for a growing girl.”

  I couldn’t help but think that, if my parents tried a little harder, they would be able to get Emma to eat something healthy.

  “I’ll get up early tomorrow morning and make her a special breakfast,” I said. “I’ll get her to eat. You’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Anthony Goes Rogue

  The next day at school went pretty smoothly. There were no meetings with the principal and no surprises, although I was called Farts more times than I could count. I kept waiting for someone to call me Keith, or even S.B.D., for old times’ sake, but it never happened. Anthony and Scott had successfully erased my actual name from existence.

  Grandma picked me up at school along with Anthony and Scott, and we were all at the lab by three thirty. Grandma went straight to her room to get to work. “Fruit isn’t going to get square all on its own, boys,” she announced, walking down the hall.

  I got to work right away, too. “Okay, guys,” I said, as we sat at the table having a snack. “It’s no secret that I have no ideas for the science fair. I was thinking about it today, and I think part of the problem is that we have no company name yet. We have all this cool stuff, and Sweet Farts is available everywhere, but we don’t have a name. Mr. Gonzalez has his company, Gonzalez World Wide. We need a name already.”

  “Yeah,” Scott added. “We do need a name. We could also use a Web site. That way we can post what we’re working on so kids at school stop asking me. I’m getting tired of explaining the Silencer all day long.”

  “Okay, any ideas?” I asked.

  “I have it,” Anthony announced: “the Fart Factory!” He clapped his hands once and got up out of his seat. “Boom! That was easy! Now let’s get back to work. You’re welcome, Farts.”