by Raymond Bean
My heart sank. This was the exact opposite of what I needed.
“Whose idea will be entered in the challenge?” Anthony asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Mr. Gonzalez said with a smile. “You will all work on a project of your own during the months leading up to the competition. As always, you will have help from the scientists at my lab if you need it. And the week before the AWSC, you will decide as a group which project will represent Sweet Farts, Inc., at the challenge.”
“What’s the prize?” Scott asked eagerly.
“The prize is not the important thing here, Scott. The important thing is the process. You guys have a few interesting discoveries under your belts. Now you’ll be exposed to what some other young scientists around the world are working on.”
I tried again. “I don’t know, Mr. Gonzalez; we might just need a little time off. The last science fair was only a few months ago, and I’m still working on my molecular gastronomy project…”
“Keith, I didn’t set this lab up so that you could work on your baseball swing, practice your basketball shots, and play video games. This is a lab, and you are all expected to work on science if you are going to continue to utilize this space. Now, I suggest you guys head back to your labs, stop arguing with each other, and get to work.”
CHAPTER 8
Roland the Farter
I was really annoyed, and not because I have a problem working on science projects. It was because I knew how much drama this whole challenge was going to create with Anthony. I knew he was going to get all crazy about this new competition and drive me nuts.
“So, Anthony, what did you do all that time you were traveling, anyway? You were gone for a long time,” Scott asked, as the three of us walked out onto the basketball court and started taking shots.
“Remember when you and I were on the computer looking up how to say fart in other languages?” Anthony asked.
“Well, I do. You guys would turn whatever word you thought was funny into a new nickname for me,” I reminded him.
“That’s right, Gooz, excellent memory. Well, doing all that research got me interested in different cultures.”
I couldn’t believe Anthony was saying that his desire to travel the world came from looking up the word fart in different languages.
“I couldn’t help but wonder about all the other things I didn’t know about the rest of the world. I figured if I thought that one word was interesting, there must be other amazing things about those cultures, too.”
“Like what?” I asked. “How to say burp and doo-doo?”
“Well, if you must know, Mr. Negative, I found out a lot of things about myself on this trip. It turns out that I have ancient roots.” A real seriousness seemed to come over him. Then he grinned. “Have you guys ever heard of Roland the Farter?”
CHAPTER 9
IQ Test
“Roland the Farter was a minstrel in the court of Henry the Second of England. I learned about him on my trip. Legend has it that every year on Christmas day, Roland was expected to perform for the king and his guests. The highlight of his performance was a jump, a whistle, and a fart. He was able to do them all at once and on command! Can you guys imagine it?” Anthony had a look of amazement on his face.
“So what does that weirdo have to do with you and your trip? You said you ‘found yourself’?” I asked. I couldn’t tell if Anthony was really nuts or if he was just messing with us. Even Scott was looking at him strangely.
“I did. And Roland was not a weirdo, and neither am I. When I learned about Roland the Farter, I really connected to his story. You see, he was a flatulist just like me.”
“What’s that?” Scott asked.
Anthony ripped a stinker.
“Come on,” Scott pleaded. “That’s not right.”
Continuing as if nothing had happened, Anthony said, “A flatulist is someone who can fart on command.” He did it again to make his point. “I always knew I could do it. How do you think I was able to torture you so well at school, Keith?” he asked as he slapped me on the back. “I just never knew the name for it. Now I do. My name is Anthony Papas, and I’m a flatulist!” he shouted.
“So, you admit it was you farting all those times at school?” I said, victoriously. To this day, Anthony still hadn’t come clean to anyone else at school about his gas.
“Not to anyone other than you guys. To everyone else, I’ll forever blame my gas on you, Keith. Of course, if you step down as the head of Sweet Farts, I might consider not blaming you for my farts anymore.”
“You might be the most stubborn person I’ve ever known,” I said. “You just don’t know when to quit. How in the world did I ever end up hiring you for this company?”
“I think you know the answer to that question. I am the smartest guy you know. In fact, I think we should make a little bet on who is smarter: you or me.”
I was dribbling, and Anthony was now guarding me, trying to steal the ball.
Emma walked in from outside. A baby goat was following her, and Goofy, her dog, was right at her side. “Let me guess, you two are fighting again,” she said.
“Okay, Anthony, what kind of wager do you want to put on it?” I asked, dribbling to my left. I knew this was a bad idea. Anthony had a way of tricking me and making me look foolish. But there was no way he was smarter than I was.
“How about your company? We both take an IQ test, and the one with the highest IQ is in charge of the company,” Anthony said, swiping at the ball.
“What’s an IQ?” Emma asked from the sidelines.
“It’s a test that you take to see how smart you are,” Anthony answered.
“Well, if we’re taking a smarts test to see who is running Sweet Farts, then I want in on it, too,” Scott said, making a face as his shot missed the hoop.
I stopped dribbling and held the ball tight. “We aren’t going to take an IQ test to find out who the smartest person in the company is,” I said.
“No, we’re going to take an IQ test to see who should be running the company,” Anthony said, smiling.
I glanced around and all three of them were staring at me. Even the goat was looking at me. Anthony was doing the same thing he had been doing to me at school for almost two years—pressuring me into situations for his benefit. Only, now he was doing it in my own company.
“Mr. Gonzalez put me in charge of this company. So if you guys want to take an IQ test to see who should be running things, he’s the man to talk to, not me.” I wasn’t sure how Anthony turned this into a way to try and snake away my company, but I hoped telling him to talk with Mr. Gonzalez would end it.
“So you admit that I’m smarter than you?” Anthony asked, not letting up.
“No, I didn’t say that. I just said that I’m not able to make this kind of decision. We should talk to Mr. Gonzalez.”
“Keith, he put you in charge. But he also said we had to work together. If you’re so smart, why don’t you accept my challenge?”
“I just think it’s silly.” I didn’t really think Anthony was smarter than me, but he was very tricky. Maybe he would come out smarter on an IQ test. I didn’t even know anything about IQ tests. For all I knew, he’d been traveling around studying for one the past few months. He did have a personal tutor now.
“Well, I think Keith is the smartest guy in the company,” Emma chimed in.
Finally, someone on my side, I thought.
“Why? Because he’s your brother?” Scott asked.
“No, because he’s the only boy on the court actually dressed for basketball.”
CHAPTER 10
Emma’s Lab
Later on that day, I walked out back knowing I’d find Emma and Grandma there. Emma was sitting on the ground in front of a small barn feeding the baby goat a bottle.
Her friends, John and Ruby, were on the ground with her, laughing up a storm and playing with Goofy.
In the months since I hired Emma, she had planned her outdoor lab w
ith the help of Mom, Grandma, and Mr. Gonzalez. She didn’t want a space inside the lab with the rest of us. Her area was outside. It was basically a mini-farm. There were a bunch of fenced-in areas and small barns. It was a five-year-old’s dream come true.
After the space was set up, the first animal Emma got was a puppy. She always wanted a puppy, but our house was too small. I was pretty psyched, too, even though I would have gotten something like a golden retriever, or one of those Frisbee dogs. She chose a rescue dog, which meant it was at the pound, and Emma gave it a home. I liked the fact that she saved the dog from the pound, but we didn’t even know what kind of dog it was. It was brown, black, white, tan, gray, you name it! The dog was just funny looking so Emma named her Goofy.
After saving Goofy, Emma quickly moved on to bunnies, goats, and any other furry little animal she could think of. I told Mr. Gonzalez I didn’t think it was a good idea for a girl as young as her to be in charge of all those baby animals, but he told me they were part of her scientific work. As far as I could tell, Emma’s scientific work was mostly just play dates with her friends. Still, I figured I had my baseball field and my basketball court; if Emma wanted to clean up animal poop all day that was her choice.
“Hi, Keith,” Emma said with a huge smile on her face. Her friend John got up and shook my hand.
“Hi, Keith, pleasha to meet you, I’m Jonathan Cuzzie,” he said. I thought it was pretty funny that a five-year-old was being so formal.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Jonathan,” I said. “You’re a polite little guy.”
“Thank you, Mr. Farts. Can I work here?”
“First of all, Jonathan, please don’t call me Mr. Farts. Second of all, no, you can’t work here because you’re too young.”
Jonathan’s lip started to tremble. “I didn’t mean to call you Farts. Emma said it was your name.”
I looked at Grandma, who was sitting on a nearby bench. She shrugged. “Why can’t Emma hire a few of her friends to work at the lab? You hired Anthony and Scott,” she said.
“Yeah, I want to hire two friends, too,” Emma said, handing Jonathan a fluffy white bunny. “Here, Jonathan, can you keep an eye on this little guy while I talk with Keith?” Jonathan nodded and walked back toward the other bunnies.
“I don’t think so, Emma. I think it’s fine if you want to have your friends here for play dates, or whatever you want to call it, but you can’t have your own employees.”
“Fair is fair,” Grandma said. “I don’t see why Emma can’t form her own little science team.”
This whole place is getting crazier by the minute, I thought. Anthony and Scott were walking around in kilts, and now my baby sister wanted to hire employees.
“Grandma, she isn’t even doing science back here. She’s just playing with baby animals.”
“I love my babies. They’re so cute. I just can’t take it!” She leaned down and gave Goofy a big squeeze and looked up at me with her big eyes. Ruby had taken over feeding the goat the rest of the bottle, and there were baby bunnies everywhere. There were at least seven of them. I didn’t even know where they’d all come from. Emma scooped up a black one with white spots and big floppy ears.
I had to admit the whole scene was pretty cute. But Sweet Farts wasn’t in the cute business. We were in the science business.
“Want to hold the cute little bunny, Keith?” she asked.
“No thanks, Emm. I just wanted to get away from Anthony for a little while. He’s making me crazy. It was much calmer around here when he was away.”
She smiled at me. “Play with bunnies! Playing with bunnies always makes me happy. Why do you think I’m out here all the time?” She said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
John and Ruby both insisted I play with bunnies, too. Then they all started chanting, “Play with the bunnies, play with the bunnies.”
Grandma smiled from the bench. “Play with the bunnies,” she said, joining in the chant.
“I just needed to get away from Anthony for a while. I’m not out here to play with bunnies.”
“What’s wrong with bunnies?” Emma asked.
“Nothing, Emm, it’s just that I’m a guy, and guys aren’t into all that cutesy stuff.”
“I’m a guy, and I think bunnies ROCK!” John shouted, pumping his fist in the air.
“It’s okay if you want to hold the bunny, Keith,” Grandma teased.
“I’ll see you guys later. I need to get back to my lab and figure out what I’m going to do for this crazy science challenge.”
“Okay, good luck,” Emma said. She turned around and headed back to the bunnies.
“Wait, what are you going to do? You’re part of the company now, you know,” I reminded her.
“I don’t want to be in a contest. I just want to take care of my beautiful babies,” she called without turning back.
I looked at Grandma. “She can’t just hang out back here and play with baby animals all day. She has to do some science.”
“She’ll be just fine, Keith. I’m working with her. You just worry about yourself.”
Grandma was right. I needed to focus. Walking back to the lab, I could hear Emma and her friends chanting, “Play with the bunnies, play with the bunnies.”
CHAPTER 11
Liver Canes
I had to figure out something amazing to enter in the All-World Science Challenge. For the past few months, I had been kind of working on the molecular gastronomy project I’d started for the last school science fair. My objective was to create a liver cane—a candy cane that had all the vitamins and healthy stuff in liver (which is gross) with the great taste of a candy cane. Emma hadn’t been eating at the time I thought of the experiment, so it had seemed like a great way to help her and other kids who don’t like to eat healthy foods.
I mean, wouldn’t it be great if your cauliflower tasted like chocolate? Or, if every gross healthy food tasted like ice cream? The work had to be done. Mr. Stuart and some of his assistants were helping me out with the real difficult science of the experiment. I think they were all getting a little tired of eating liver, too.
The problem was, I was stuck. The only way I could think of to make the liver taste like candy canes was to add sugar to it. And that was not a solution to the problem, so I had been working hard, trying to understand the molecular structure of the food and how I could change it in some way. It felt hopeless, but I kept on trying. I can’t even begin to tell you how much liver I had eaten over the past few months. Looking back, I probably should have experimented with something a little tastier until I got the science right. It would definitely take a lot more work to get the liver canes perfected enough to enter them in the AWSC.
CHAPTER 12
Scott-tacular!
I decided to take a break and head over to Scott’s lab, which I was surprised to see had changed a lot since the last time I was in it. One section of the room was an exact replica of his bedroom. It had a bed that looked just like his, the same posters on the wall, and even a messy desk. It was weird seeing his entire room in the lab.
“What are you working on?” I asked. “I hope this isn’t all so you can nap here.”
“Very funny, Keith. Actually, I’m working on a little thing I like to think of as the greatest discovery since, well, Sweet Farts.”
“Okay, what’ya got?” I asked. Scott was dressed in a white lab coat, and there were several scientists bustling around the lab working on different experiments. I was impressed.
“Okay, so you know how you and I have really small houses?”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that my house is small.”
“Well, I am working on Virtual Reality Housing.” As he said it, he held his hands up in front of him like he was picturing a billboard of some sort.
“What are you talking about?”
“I am talking about an invention so amazing that it will change the way you live. I am trying to create special glasses that when you put them on, lik
e so,” he paused, putting on a pair of very dark glasses, “they change your boring, old, ordinary house into a sweet mansion. Sweet Mansion Keith, can you picture it?”
“I’m not sure I follow. How can glasses change the look of your house?”
“These glasses would create a virtual world inside your house. For example, let’s say you had a bed in your house, like the one you have now. You know, a lame bed. With these glasses, you could get rid of it and replace it with a virtual bed.”
“Hey, I like my bed,” I protested.
“Well, just imagine if in place of your bed, with the help of the Virtual Reality Scott-Thousands, it would look like one of those fancy beds they have at hotels. And if you lived in small house with no furniture at all, you could set the whole place up with virtual reality furniture. The room would be completely empty, but when you put on the glasses, you would be able to set it up however you wanted. I’m talking a virtual couch, desk, TV, you name it.”
“Did you just say, ‘Scott-Thousand’?”
“Yes, but that’s not the important part of this story. The important thing is that people in small houses, who don’t have a lot of money, will be able to buy these amazing glasses and change their boring, old houses into a Scott-tacular home.”
“Why do you keep adding your name to every word?”
“Because, Keith, I have finally found it. This is my Sweet Farts, my lottery! This is the discovery that is going to be Scott-tacular!”
“I like your idea. I just don’t know how practical it is. I mean, even if you can create glasses that would change the look of my house and let me see furniture that isn’t really there, what happens when I go to sit on my virtual reality bed? Wouldn’t I just fall on the floor? It sounds a little far-fetched.”
“So did a little invention called Sweet Farts. If you remember, I thought you were crazy when you set out to find the cure for the common fart back in fourth grade. Now it’s time for my amazing idea. I need your support, though. You have to believe in the Scott-tacular ideas I’m cooking up for your company.”
