by Raymond Bean
“Wonderful,” she said mockingly. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends?”
“Of course,” Anthony said cunningly. Then he added, “Ciò è la macchina che del fart gli ho detto circa,” and they both started laughing.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“Nothing important. You must be Keith. I’ll be working with Anthony, but if you guys need any help with your schoolwork, let me know.” She shook my hand and said hello to Scott. Then she hauled her bags down the hall toward Anthony’s lab.
When she was gone, Anthony added, “Did I say home schooled? Let me rephrase that. I am going to be ‘lab’ schooled. I will spend my days here at Sweet Farts, Inc., swimming in the pool, practicing my swing, shooting baskets, and enjoying the luxuries a young genius like me requires, while you two kids attend elementary school.”
“You wish,” I said. It wasn’t the best comeback, but I was a little rusty.
“Actually, I did wish, Keith, but now that wish has become a reality.”
“You don’t think Mr. Michaels and Mr. Cherub at school will have a problem with you skipping out every day?” Scott asked.
“They have no say. My mom signed the papers, Mrs. Weaver is paid in full, and Mr. Gonzalez has already agreed to it. You kids better get right home after the meeting tonight. You’re going to need all your rest for school tomorrow. I’m planning on sleeping in.” He grabbed the basketball from my arms and dribbled down the court. He tried to dribble through his legs, but the ball got caught on the bottom of his sarong. He stumbled, scooped the ball up, and launched it toward the basket, even though he was way too far away to make the shot.
Yep, the party is officially over, I thought.
CHAPTER 4
Uprising
Twenty minutes later, everyone was finally gathered in the boardroom. Scott, Emma, Grandma, and Anthony were all sitting around the awesome new table I’d had delivered the day before. I was so excited that it had come in time for the meeting. The table was shaped like a baseball: round and white with the red stitching and everything, and all the chairs were made of soft leather and shaped like baseball mitts, monogrammed with the employee’s name and then Sweet Farts, Inc. stitched underneath.
“Okay,” I began, standing up. “I wanted to bring you all together to talk about the future of the company and set some new goals. I think you would all agree that Sweet Farts, Inc., has accomplished a lot in a short time. So, I thought it would be a good idea to go around the room and take a minute to talk about the projects each of you is currently working on.”
“I love the new table, Keith,” Grandma said.
“Yeah, and these chairs are awesome,” Emma added, spinning hers in a circle. When Anthony stood, I foolishly thought he was about to compliment me.
“Before we get started, Mr. Farts, I have something to announce.”
“Anthony, you spent all that time traveling the world and you still feel the need to call me Farts? That hasn’t grown old to you yet?” Anthony had been calling me names for years. In fourth grade, he nicknamed me Silent But Deadly, and I’ve been known as S.B.D. ever since. Then last fall, Anthony and Scott found a Web site that translated words into other languages. Some of their favorite international nicknames for me were Prut, Goozer, and Winderigheid, all words for passing gas.
“Oh no, it’s still as fun as the first time, Senior Farts. But that’s not what I want to discuss.” He leaned back in his mitt and linked his hands together across his chest. “Before we go any further, I think we should have a vote to decide who should be in charge of this company.”
“Anthony! I started the company, and I’m the one Mr. Gonzalez put in charge. So, the answer to that question is ME. Now, moving on…”
He interrupted. “Well, I gave it a lot of thought on my trip, and I have come to the conclusion that this company needs new leadership. I mean, you didn’t even come up with an idea that worked for the last science fair! You tried to turn candy canes into liver sticks or whatever, and in the end you had nothing but a terrible-tasting idea.”
“Yeah, maybe, but science isn’t about being right all the time. It’s about experimenting. Besides, that idea is still in development. While you were roaming around the world, I was back here in the lab working on it. I think I’m pretty close to perfecting Liver Canes.”
“Yeah, you said you were pretty close before I left, too. In case you don’t remember, I was off roaming the world because I beat a little thing called the LOTTERY.”
“We all know what you did for the last fair, Anthony.”
“Hey!” Emma called out in mid spin. “Why are you guys arguing? You both did a great job. Keith gave me a new candy cane to try just yesterday, Anthony.”
“How was it, Emm?” I asked.
She stopped spinning. “Oh, well, it was terrible, but I know you will do it someday,” she said, giving me two thumbs up.
“Well, I say that my experiment makes me the smartest guy in the company, which also means that I should be in charge.”
“You are definitely not the smartest guy in this company. MY company. So, what you should be saying is ‘Thanks for the opportunity to work here, Keith.’”
“No, that’s not what I’m trying to say at all, Toots. I came up with my number-pattern hypothesis on my own. I built my extension to the lab with my own money. So, I think what you are trying to say is, ‘Thanks for keeping my lame company going because my last experiment stunk.’”
“If you don’t like working here so much, why don’t you start your own company?”
“I would love to, but Mr. Gonzalez made me and my mom sign a contract before I built the indoor pool and extra space in the lab. It says that I can’t start a company of my own. We agreed that I would stay a part of this stink bomb company of yours until I’m eighteen.”
I almost choked. The thought of working with Anthony until I was eighteen was a nightmare!
“What I did not agree to was just sitting back and allowing you to run this company into the ground.”
I looked at Scott for a little support, but he was playing his video game and listening to music in his earphones. He looked at me, made a rock-star face, and sang something in a low whisper that sounded like, “You ain’t gonna take a bobidy baah baah, yeah.” Shaking my head, I turned my attention to Emma, my newest employee. She was petting a baby bunny. Her new dog, Goofy, was sprawled out on the floor next to her.
“You boys need to learn to get along. I don’t know why you have to argue,” she said. “I like being at the lab. It’s so much fun.”
“Fun? This is exactly what I mean, Keith. You hired your little sister to work in the lab? What do you expect her to accomplish here anyway? As far as I can see, all she has done is fill this place up with animals.”
Anthony was sort of right. Since Emma had started working at the lab, she hadn’t done much more than buy baby animals and play with them.
“I like my animals. They are so cute and they make me happy.” She hugged her bunny. “His name is Mr. Cuddlesworth.”
Anthony said, “Good grief!” and fell back into his chair.
“If you ask me, boys, Emma’s got the right idea,” Grandma added. “She is enjoying herself. Can you two say the same?” Grandma gave Emma a fist bump, and then they both opened their hands to “blow it up.”
This was crazy. Why was no one defending me?
Anthony swiveled toward me. “Keith, I’ve had it with the way you ‘run’ this company. I am going to figure out a way to take it over.”
“Since you made your amazing lottery discovery, you haven’t even been here. I’m the one who’s been running the lab and making this place more awesome. I’m the one who ordered that super cool baseball mitt chair you’re sitting in right now.”
Anthony looked at me, shrugged, and ripped one into the seat. “That’s what I think of your chair. Maybe you can be the decorator and leave the important stuff to me. I’m going to end up being the one who runs this c
ompany, Farts. You know it; I know it; even Mr. Cuddlesworth knows it.”
CHAPTER 5
A Gabilliony Dollars
Mom picked Grandma, Emma, and me up after the meeting was over. I couldn’t believe Scott played his video game the whole time and Emma just sat there petting Mr. Cuddlesworth. Worse still was Anthony farting in the new chair I’d ordered him. The guy had no respect. Having him around again reminded me that we’d had a pretty fart-free environment the past few months. Even Emma had outgrown her farting stage since she’d started working at the lab. From the back seat I asked, “Mom, what do you think about giving me permission to get a home tutor? I could get my schoolwork done at the lab, and you wouldn’t have to keep driving me back and forth between the lab and school.”
She looked at me in the rearview mirror. “Come on, Keith, you can’t be serious. Do you really think I’m going to allow you to spend the whole day at that lab playing with your friends?” It was dark, so I wasn’t able to see her face to tell how against my idea she was.
“Mom, I’m not going to be playing. Sweet Farts is a multimillion-dollar company. I think it would be good for me to spend more time there and less time at school. You can even pick the tutor.”
“I’ll be your tutor,” Grandma offered.
“I don’t want to go to school, either,” Emma announced. “Now that I’m working in the lab I get whatevow Keith gets, right, Mommy? And I want to spend all day with Gwandma.”
“No, you don’t, Emma,” I said. “And why are you talking like a baby all of a sudden? At the lab you were pronouncing your words perfectly. How come when you’re around Mom you talk like a baby?”
“Keith, leave your sister alone. Don’t take it out on her just because you aren’t getting what you want.” She shot Grandma a look. “And you’re not helping here.”
We pulled into the driveway, and I couldn’t help but think how great it would be if we bought another house someday. Ours was nice, don’t get me wrong, but it was small for the four of us.
“Mom, why don’t you let me spend a little of that Sweet Farts money on a new house already? It’s kind of silly that we have millions of dollars in the bank, and we’re still living in the same house.”
“This house is our home,” Mom said. “There is no reason for us to buy a bigger one. The money your company makes from the sale of Sweet Farts is for your future. We’ve talked about this a million times.”
We all got out of the car, hugging and high-fiving Grandma before she drove away in her VW Bug, her music thumping as she rolled down the street.
I tried again. “I know the money is for my future, but how nice would it be to have a pool and a little more room?”
“It would be very nice, and if we decide to do something like that, your father and I will be the ones paying for it, not our ten-year-old son.”
“How about if I make a GABILLIONY DOLLARS? Will you let me buy you a bigga house then?” Emma asked in her cutest voice, as Mom opened the front door. I didn’t say anything about the fact that Emma said “bigga” and not bigger. Mom didn’t seem to want to accept the fact that Emma could talk just fine. She used the cute, “mispronounce her words thing” to get what she wanted and seem ultra-cute. And it usually worked.
“Aww, Emma, when you make a GABILLIONY DOLLARS, you can buy us all a bigger house,” Mom said.
Dad was standing just inside the door when we walked in, and he joined right into the conversation. “Awesome! Are we finally going to get a new house with all that sweet Sweet Farts money?” he asked.
Mom handed him the grocery bags in her arms. “No, honey, we agreed not to allow our millionaire son to buy us a new house, remember?”
“I’m going to buy us a new house when I make a GABILLIONY DOLLARS!” Emma announced skipping down the hall toward her room.
“Dad, what do you think about me getting a homeschool tutor and doing all my schoolwork at the lab?” I asked, as we walked toward the kitchen.
“Oh man, that was my dream when I was a kid,” he said, putting the groceries down on the counter. “No school so I could stay at home all day and sleep in. That would have been the BEST! And you’ve got the pool and the basketball court right there…” He caught Mom’s eye and realized he was on the wrong side of this argument. “I mean to say, those were my childish dreams, son. Having a homeschool tutor would be a terrible idea for you. You should be going to school.” He glanced again at Mom with a big cheesy smile and then looked back at me and shrugged.
Mom said, “Let’s get dinner ready and then it’s off to bed. Like it or not, you have school tomorrow, Mr. Moneybags.”
CHAPTER 6
Good Morning, Big Boy
The next morning my phone started buzzing at seven o’clock. I rolled over and tried to ignore it. But it kept buzzing so I finally answered it. “Rise and shine, Sweet Cheeks. The school bus will be there in about an hour for you.” I hung up before Anthony could get anything else out. Unbelievable, I thought.
It started ringing again, but this time it was Scott, thankfully. “I’m so jealous of Anthony! How are we going to get in on that home schooling gig?”
“I don’t know, my mom won’t even think about it. What about your mom?”
“No way, she doesn’t even like me going to the lab as much as I do right now. She said that last year I spent all my time there, and all I had to show for it was a tornado in a bottle.”
“Well she’s sort a right, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, but I was young then. I’m much more mature now.”
“Right,” I said. “I’ll see you on the bus.”
After I hung up, I noticed that I had a few new e-mails. I opened the first one, and it was a picture of Anthony sitting at my new baseball table having a huge breakfast. The second e-mail was a picture of him doing a cannonball into his awesome indoor pool (which meant his tutor took the picture, which was just ridiculous), and the third e-mail had a video of Anthony. He was standing on home plate on my baseball field and singing, “Take me out to the ball game, take me out to the crowd. I’m getting home schooled and you are not. Enjoy your gross lunch and also this…” (And then he held the microphone to his rear end and ripped one.)
I need to change my e-mail, I thought.
CHAPTER 7
The Kilt
After school I met with Mr. Gonzalez in his office at the lab.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you made Anthony agree to work at Sweet Farts, Inc., for the rest of his life?” I asked.
“Eighteen is hardly ‘the rest of his life,’ but I did that to make sure that you all continue to work together. His mother agreed. We felt it would provide you two with focus and help you stick to a common goal. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with each other for now.”
“But, Mr. Gonzalez, he’s mean to me, he’s rude, and he farts all the time. Is he really someone we want working for the company?”
“Keith, Anthony’s proven that he’s a smart kid. He showed the most potential during the last science fair, and I like that he challenges you. Just because you two are butting heads right now doesn’t mean you should stop working together. Some of the people I’ve learned the most from in my life have been the hardest to deal with. If I’d avoided everyone who challenged me or made things hard on me, I would have never become as successful as I am today. In fact, let’s call Anthony and Scott in here so we can talk about a few things.” He clicked the intercom on his desk. “Anthony and Scott, please come to my office right away.”
I couldn’t believe Mr. Gonzalez was so set on keeping Anthony around. He thought Anthony challenged me, but he was a bully to me.
Anthony walked in a few minutes later wearing a T-shirt and a checkered skirt that stopped at his knees.
“What did I tell you, Mr. Gonzalez? He can’t even dress normal,” I said.
“I’m wearing a kilt. I got it in Scotland when I visited a few months ago. What do you have against Scotland?” he asked, as he sat down next to me.
Just then, Scott walked in, and he was wearing a kilt, too. He looked at me and curtsied.
“You, too?” I asked. “Are you guys working on next year’s Halloween costumes?”
“It was a gift from Anthony. It may look strange, but I kind of like it. You should give it a try. Besides, they’re from Scotland. How awesome is that? Get it, Scottland? I think I’d like it there.” He spun in a circle to really give me the whole picture. “Where’s yours?”
“I didn’t get one for the Fartmaster here because I knew he would be too narrow-minded to appreciate it,” Anthony said without looking at me.
“All right, enough, you guys,” Mr. Gonzalez said. “This constant fighting and picking on each other isn’t doing anyone any good.”
Anthony nodded. “That’s an interesting point, Mr. G. I was just saying to Keith at our last meeting that we need some new leadership. I had myself in mind.”
“You guys need to start thinking like a team and working together, Anthony,” Mr. Gonzalez replied.
“Yeah, Anthony, you heard him; we’re a team so it would be nice if you gave me a break on all the teasing.” Not bad, I thought. I stood up to him pretty well, and in front of Mr. Gonzalez to boot.
Anthony rolled his eyes. “You were the one making fun of my kilt a few minutes ago, Fart Art. Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it. But you should know that I can take it all day long.”
“Whatever,” I managed.
“Well, don’t get too comfy,” Mr. Gonzalez warned. “I called you guys together to let you know that I’ve entered you in the All-World Science Challenge, taking place in New York City in a few months. This time around you won’t just be competing against other kids from your school. Your work will be judged against the work of young scientists from around the world. Also, only one idea from this lab will be presented at the AWSC.”
