Ms. Sue Has No Clue!

by Dan Gutman

  “Very nice,” said my dad, “but I’m not paying a dollar to kiss it.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” said Mr. Docker. “You pay a dollar so you don’t have to kiss it.”

  “So if I pay you a dollar, I don’t have to kiss the toad?” asked my dad.

  “That’s right,” said Mr. Docker.

  “What if I kiss the toad anyway?” my dad asked.

  “Then you don’t have to pay a dollar.”

  “Hmm, that sounds like a fair deal to me,” Dad said. And then he leaned over and kissed the toad.

  Ugh, disgusting! My dad just kissed a toad! I thought I was gonna throw up.

  “How about the rest of the family?” Mr. Docker asked. “Would you like to kiss the toad?”

  “No thank you!” said my mom.

  “Yuck! Not me!” said my sister, Amy.

  “Count me out,” I said. “I’m not kissing a toad.”

  “Okay, that will be three dollars, please,” said Mr. Docker.

  My dad pulled out the money.

  “Hey, you saved a dollar, Dad!” I told him.

  At the next booth, there was a big tub of water with some watermelons in it. Our gifted and talented teacher, Ms. Coco, was behind the booth. The sign said BOBBING FOR WATERMELONS.

  “Isn’t that supposed to be bobbing for apples?” my mom asked Ms. Coco.

  “The supermarket didn’t have any apples today,” Ms. Coco said. “So I got watermelons instead.”

  “I can’t fit a watermelon in my mouth!” said my mom.

  “Then you have to pay a dollar,” said Ms. Coco.

  My mom handed Ms. Coco a dollar.

  Fund-raising is weird.

  4

  We Have a Winner!

  “Five hundred dollars!” Ms. Sue yelled into her bullhorn as she put more money into the money box. “We have now raised five hundred dollars!”

  Everybody let out a whoop, and a new line was drawn on the giant thermometer.

  My parents wanted to go bid on some boring stuff at the silent auction. My sister went running off to hang out with her friends. Dad gave me ten dollars and said I could walk around with my friends.

  They weren’t hard to find. There was a section of cool games for kids to play, so I ran over. Ryan, Michael, Neil, and Alexia were there. So was Little Miss I-Know-Everything and her crybaby friend, Emily.

  “Let’s play water balloon toss!” Ryan said.

  Our speech teacher, Miss Laney, was at the water balloon toss. She was poking her face through a hole in a shower curtain with a drawing of a clown on it.

  “Betcha can’t hit me, A.J.!” Miss Laney yelled.

  “Betcha I can!” I yelled back.

  “Water balloon tossing is violent,” said Andrea. “I don’t think it’s very nice to throw objects at people. It’s not a good message to send to children.”

  “Can you possibly be more boring?” I said to Andrea as I grabbed a big purple water balloon.

  “This will cost you one dollar, A.J.,” Miss Laney said.

  “What?!”

  “It’s a fund-raiser!” Michael told me. “The whole point of the carnival is to make money for the school.”

  I pulled a dollar out of my pocket and put it in the bowl on the table. Then I picked up a water balloon and chucked it at Miss Laney.

  I missed.

  “Ha-ha!” yelled Miss Laney. “Nah-nah-nah boo-boo! Want to try again, A.J.?”

  “Yeah!” I yelled, grabbing for another water balloon.

  “One dollar, please,” said Miss Laney.

  I put another dollar in the bowl. Then I picked up a water balloon and threw it even harder at Miss Laney.

  I missed.

  “Ha-ha! You stink!” Miss Laney yelled at me. Then she stuck out her tongue and made funny noises.

  “Are you gonna take that, A.J.?” Neil the nude kid said.

  I took another dollar out of my pocket and put it in the bowl. This time I took careful aim, threw the water balloon a little softer, and hit Miss Laney right on the nose.

  Splat! The water balloon exploded, and she was soaked.

  “In your face!” I yelled, and everybody cheered.

  “We have a winner!” Miss Laney said as she toweled off.

  “What do I win?”

  Miss Laney reached under the table and came up with a plastic bag filled with water. It took me a few seconds to realize there was something else inside the bag.

  “You win a goldfish!” said Miss Laney.

  Goldfish are cool.

  “I will name him Fishy,” I said as I took the plastic bag. “Fishy T. Fish. The T stands for ‘The.’ He will be my new friend.”

  5

  Something Smells Fishy

  “One thousand dollars!” Ms. Sue hollered into her bullhorn. “We have now raised one thousand dollars!”

  Everybody whooped, and a new line was drawn on the giant thermometer. Ms. Sue put more money into the money box.

  Me and the gang walked around to play some of the other games. Ryan played ring toss. Michael threw Ping-Pong balls into paper cups. We all jumped up and down in the Moon Bounce, even Fishy T. Fish.

  This was the best day of my life!

  We were waiting in line to play shuffleboard when I noticed that Fishy T. Fish didn’t look very good. He was floating upside down in the plastic bag.

  “Dude,” Neil the nude kid said, “I think your goldfish may be dead.”

  “What?! How can he be dead? I just got him.”

  “Goldfish don’t live very long,” said Andrea. “I read that in the encyclopedia.”

  “I only had him for five minutes!” I complained.

  “Yeah, but you don’t know how long he was alive before Miss Laney gave him to you,” Michael told me.

  “What do you expect, A.J.?” asked Ryan. “He’s in a plastic bag. If we lived in plastic bags, we wouldn’t live very long either. Look at him. He can’t breathe in there.”

  “Fish don’t breathe air, dumbhead,” said Andrea. “They use their gills to get oxygen from the water.”

  “So does your face,” I told Andrea.

  “Oh, snap!” said Ryan.

  “Stop arguing about it!” Emily said. “Fishy is dying! We’ve got to do something!”

  Sheesh! Get a grip!

  “What do you want me to do,” I asked, “give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to a fish?”

  “That would be gross,” said Alexia.

  “Giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to anybody is gross,” said Michael.

  “Maybe two fish could give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to each other,” suggested Neil.

  That would be weird.

  We all rushed back to Miss Laney’s booth to see if she could help us. She was wiping her face with a towel. I told her what happened to Fishy T. Fish.

  “You need to talk to Ms. Sue,” she told me. “She bought all the prizes.”

  We ran all over the carnival looking for Ms. Sue. Finally, we found her.

  “I wish to register a complaint,” I told her. “I won this goldfish just five minutes ago.”

  “Is something wrong with him?” Ms. Sue asked.

  “I’ll tell you what’s wrong with him,” I told her. “He’s dead.”

  “No, no, he’s not dead,” Ms. Sue said. “He’s resting.”*

  “He’s not resting,” I told her. “He’s dead.”

  “Look, I think he’s doing the backstroke,” said Ms. Sue. “Isn’t that adorable?”

  “Mom!” shouted Alexia. “He’s not doing the backstroke! He’s dead!”

  Usually, I’m very respectful to grown-ups. But Ms. Sue was getting me really mad.

  “I know a dead goldfish when I see one,” I told her. “And I’m looking at one right now. This is an ex-goldfish.”

  “Okay, okay, maybe he is dead,” agreed Ms. Sue. “You didn’t take him into the Moon Bounce, did you?”

  “I want my dollar back!” I demanded.

  “I’m sorry, A.J.
,” Ms. Sue told me. “We’re running behind on the fund-raising, and we need every dollar for the new playground equipment. But I’ll tell you what I can do. I’ll get you a new fish to replace Fishy. Would that be all right?”

  “Well . . . okay.”

  “Good,” Ms. Sue said. “That will cost you one dollar.”

  WHAT?!

  6

  Cowabunga!

  I decided not to buy another fish from Ms. Sue. If that one died, I’d be stuck with two dead fish. And I hate dead fish.

  Me and the gang played a few more games, and then Ms. Sue announced that we had raised two thousand dollars. We all whooped and hollered.

  “Everybody come over to the soccer field,” Ms. Sue shouted into her bullhorn. “It’s time to play bingo!”

  “I love bingo!” we all yelled.

  We rushed over to the soccer field. It was weird, because there was an orange plastic fence around the field. The grass was marked off like a big checkerboard with white chalk lines.

  “How do you play bingo on a soccer field?” I asked.

  “Beats me,” said Ryan.

  Some of the parents set up drums and other musical instruments, and they started to play oldies from a million hundred years ago. That’s when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened. A truck drove up to the field, and it was pulling a trailer.

  Ms. Sue opened the door of the trailer. And do you know what walked out of it?

  A cow!

  “This is Dr. Moo,” announced Ms. Sue. “Welcome to Cow Pie Bingo!”

  “I didn’t know that cows ate pie,” I said.

  “They don’t, dumbhead,” said Andrea. “Cow pies are poops.”

  “Your face is a poop,” I told Andrea.

  “Oh, snap!” said Ryan.

  “Here’s how we play Cow Pie Bingo,” said Ms. Sue. “You folks each get to buy one square of the soccer field for twenty dollars. If Dr. Moo drops a cow pie on your square, you win a hundred dollars. The rest of the money goes to the school.”

  It sounded like the weirdest game in the history of the world, but all the grown-ups ran over to the ticket booth like they were giving away gold or something. Even my parents bought a square of the soccer field.

  “Put your money on a square, any square!” shouted Ms. Sue into the bullhorn.

  “This game sounds a lot like gambling,” said Little Miss Perfect. “I’m not sure that’s a good message to send to children.”

  “Can you possibly be more boring?” I said.

  “Where do you think Ms. Sue got that cow?” Michael asked.

  “My mom got it from Rent-A-Cow,” Alexia told him. “You can rent anything.”

  After all the grown-ups got their tickets, Ms. Sue brought Dr. Moo out to the middle of the soccer field.

  “Let the game begin!” shouted Ms. Sue as she released the cow.

  All the grown-ups started chanting and cheering for Dr. Moo to poop on their square. It was hilarious.

  “Poop on number six!” somebody shouted. “I could use a hundred bucks.”

  “No, poop on number ten!” shouted somebody else.

  “Poop on number two, Dr. Moo!”

  Dr. Moo just stood there. Everyone was on pins and needles.

  Well, not really. We were sitting on the bleachers. If we were on pins and needles, it would have hurt. But everyone was watching Dr. Moo. He was standing in the middle of the field eating grass. It was exciting!

  Well, it was exciting for about a minute. After that, it was just a crowd of people watching a cow stand in the middle of a soccer field eating grass.

  “Mooooooo,” mooed Dr. Moo.

  “What if Dr. Moo doesn’t poop at all?” somebody yelled.

  “Oh, he’ll poop,” Ms. Sue replied. “They fed him just before bringing him over here.”

  “What if he poops on a line between two squares?” somebody asked.

  “I am the Official Pie Inspector,” said Ms. Sue. “I will determine which square has the most cow pie on it.”

  Dr. Moo took a few steps, and everyone got excited again. The parents with the musical instruments started playing a song. It was a weird song. Dr. Moo stared at the sky for a few minutes. He took a step forward. Then he took a step backward. Then he chewed for a while.

  “Mooooooo,” mooed Dr. Moo.

  If you ask me, Cow Pie Bingo is the most boring game in the history of the world.

  “This would be a good time for you folks to buy some lemonade and cupcakes,” shouted Ms. Sue into her bullhorn.

  It took about a million hundred hours, but finally something dropped out of Dr. Moo’s behind.

  “We have a cow pie sighting!” Ms. Sue shouted excitedly as she ran over to inspect it. “It landed on . . . square number twenty!”

  “That’s mine!” some guy shouted, jumping up and down. “I win!”

  The guy got his hundred dollars, and everybody cheered as he had his picture taken with Dr. Moo.

  Ms. Sue told us that Cow Pie Bingo had raised another thousand dollars for the school. She put the money into the money box.

  I looked at the giant thermometer. We were up to three thousand dollars now—more than halfway there. We needed just two thousand more dollars if we wanted to get the playground equipment and have Mr. Klutz spend a night in jail.*

  7

  You Should Have Been There

  “It’s time for the Big Car Smash!” Ms. Sue shouted into her bullhorn.

  “Car smash?” we all asked. “What’s that?”

  She didn’t need to tell us the answer. At that moment, a tow truck came around the corner driven by our custodian, Miss Lazar. She was towing a junky old car. Miss Lazar put the car in the corner of the playground. Then she got out of the tow truck with a sledgehammer.

  “One swing for one dollar,” she shouted. Then she took the sledgehammer, swung it over her head, and smashed the windshield of the car!

  It was cool! Me and the guys all rushed over to get on line.

  “Sorry,” Ms. Sue told us. “For safety reasons, only grown-ups are allowed to participate in the car smash.”

  Bummer in the summer!

  Smashing stuff up with a sledgehammer is cool. I can’t wait until I’m old enough to smash stuff up with a sledgehammer. I will do that all day long. If you ask me, they should have a whole TV channel devoted to smashing stuff up with sledgehammers.

  “Why would anyone want to damage a car on purpose?” asked Andrea.

  “Because it’s fun!” all the guys told her.

  “I don’t approve of violence,” she said.

  “What do you have against violins?” I asked. Andrea rolled her eyes.

  Just about all the dads—and a few moms—paid for a turn to hit the car with the sledgehammer. A few of them hit it over and over again. By the time they were finished, there was hardly anything left of the car. It was cool.

  “It’s time to play Toilet Seat Toss!” Ms. Sue shouted into her bullhorn.

  Toilet Seat Toss is a lot like horseshoes, except that you toss toilet seats. So it has the perfect name. Instead of metal stakes in the ground, there were toilet bowl plungers. It cost a dollar to toss a toilet seat; and if you got a ringer, you would win a plastic bag with a goldfish in it.

  I decided not to play that game.

  “It’s time for the beauty pageant!” Ms. Sue shouted into her bullhorn.

  Everybody came rushing over to the stage. There was a curtain across the front so we could only see the contestants’ high-heeled shoes. Ms. Sue asked everybody to donate a dollar to sponsor one of the contestants. Me and the gang pushed our way to the front so we would get a good view.

  “I don’t like beauty pageants,” Andrea said. “Beauty pageants disrespect women.”

  “I agree,” said Emily, who always agrees with everything Andrea says.

  “That’s good,” Ms. Sue announced, “because there are no women in this beauty pageant.”

  She pulled opened the curtain. Guess who was s
tanding there?

  Mr. Docker, Mr. Loring, Mr. Macky, Mr. Louie, Mr. Granite, Dr. Brad, Mr. Tony, and Mr. Harrison! And they were all wearing bathing suits and high heels!

  “Aren’t they lovely?” asked Ms. Sue.

  The men paraded up and down the stage while this song “Isn’t She Lovely” played. Everybody was laughing their heads off. I thought I was gonna pee in my pants.

  Ms. Sue had us clap our hands really loud to decide which of the contestants was the most beautiful. The loudest applause was for Mr. Tony, so he won. I think it was because he has the most hair on his back. Ms. Sue put a crown on his head.

  It was hilarious. And we got to see it live and in person. You should have been there!

  After that, we all went over to the soccer field again, where Ms. Sue had set up a giant catapult that shot pumpkins across the field. People paid a dollar to shoot a pumpkin. Then we went into the gym and watched a game of donkey basketball. Yeah, with real donkeys!

  There was also a dunk tank, a Dress Your Pet contest, a teacher tug of war, a mud-wrestling contest for parents, and a bug-eating contest. I went to all of them and spent almost all the money my parents had given me. I only had one dollar left.

  The line on the giant thermometer kept getting higher and higher.

  “We have now raised . . . four thousand dollars!” Ms. Sue shouted into her bullhorn.

  Everybody went crazy.

  8

  Getting Desperate

  Four thousand dollars seemed like a lot of money to me. But it wasn’t enough. We were still a thousand dollars short of our goal, and we were running out of time. It was getting late in the afternoon. People were starting to leave the carnival. It didn’t look like we were going to make it.

  If we didn’t reach five thousand dollars, there would be no new playground equipment. Mr. Klutz would not be spending a night in jail. Bummer in the summer!

  “Don’t go home, people!” Ms. Sue shouted into her bullhorn. “You need to buy a piece of duct tape first.”

  “Why should we buy a piece of duct tape?” somebody asked.

  “So we can duct tape Mr. Klutz to the wall,” Ms. Sue replied.