Mrs. Master Is a Disaster!

by Dan Gutman

  “And that’s just in China,” said Mr. Cooper. “The worldwide market will be much bigger.”

  “We’re gonna make bazillions!” shouted Michael.

  We worked on the business plan for the rest of the afternoon. Mr. Cooper didn’t try to teach us spelling or math or any other boring stuff. All he cared about was the toilet seat.

  It was almost three o’clock. For once in my life, I didn’t want to leave school at the end of the day. Starting a company was fun!

  “The next thing we need to think about is a name,” said Mrs. Master.

  “We already have names,” I said. “My name is A.J.”

  “Not names for us, dumbhead!” said Andrea. “We need a name for the toilet seat!”

  Why can’t a truck full of toilet seats fall on Andrea’s head? I was going to say something mean to her, but I was too busy trying to think of a good name for our toilet seat. I couldn’t come up with anything.

  “How about the Heated, Scented, Talking, Glow-in-the-Dark Toilet Seat?” suggested Alexia.

  “That’s a little wordy, dear,” said Mrs. Master.

  “It has to be a cool name,” said Ryan. “Like . . . Cozy Crapper.”

  “‘Crapper’ is not a nice word,” said Mrs. Master. “Nobody will buy a toilet seat with the word ‘crapper’ in its name.”

  “Why not?” Ryan asked. “The toilet bowl was invented by Thomas Crapper. Dr. Nicholas taught us that when she visited our school.”*

  “How about Turdinator?” suggested Neil. “That doesn’t have the word ‘crapper’ in it.”

  “I have an idea!” shouted Andrea. “Cushy Tushie!”

  “That’s a great idea, Andrea!” said Emily, who thinks all Andrea’s ideas are great.

  “Fanny Canny!” shouted Michael.

  “Butt Hut!” shouted Ryan.

  “Squat Spot!” shouted Neil.

  “Hot Seat!” “Mr. Toilet!” “Royal Flush!” “Glow Bowl!” “Thunder Throne!” Everybody was shouting out names for the toilet seat.

  Some of them were funny: Sir Flush-a-Lot. Poop-O-Matic. Mean Green Potty Machine. Some of them were just dumb. Like Fabulous Floater Flusher.

  I wasn’t coming up with any ideas. I thought and thought until my head hurt.

  “How about you, A.J.?” asked Mr. Cooper. “Do you have any names for our toilet seat? You’re usually good at this sort of thing.”

  “I don’t have any ideas,” I admitted.

  “Arlo,” said Andrea, “you are such a party pooper.”

  As soon as those words were out of her mouth, everything stopped. I looked at Andrea. Andrea looked at Emily. Emily looked at Neil. Neil looked at Ryan. Ryan looked at me. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. It was like the sky opened up, rainbows appeared, and angels started singing.

  “Party Pooper!” I yelled. “We should call it Party Pooper! It’s the perfect name!”

  Everybody started shouting. “Yes!” “That’s it!” “You’re a genius!”

  At that moment, the bell rang. It was three o’clock. Time to go home.

  “Great!” said Mrs. Master. “We’ll call it Party Pooper. I love it! I’ll type up the business plan and print it out tonight. Tomorrow we’ll work on a prototype.”

  “Huh?” we all said.

  “A prototype is a model of the finished product,” said Mrs. Master.

  “Leave it to me!” said Mr. Cooper. “This is a job for Cooperman!”

  The next morning, the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened. Mr. Cooper came running into the classroom.

  Well, that’s not the weird part. Mr. Cooper comes running into the classroom every morning. The weird part was that he came running into the classroom with a toilet seat over his head! You don’t see that every day!

  Mr. Cooper thinks he’s a superhero. But he’s not a very good one, because he tripped over somebody’s backpack and almost slammed his head into his own desk.

  “No worries,” he said, jumping up off the floor. “I’m okay!”

  At that moment, Mrs. Master rolled into the class on her hover board lawn mower.

  “I see you finished the Party Pooper prototype,” she said to Mr. Cooper.

  “Yup!” he replied. “Isn’t it a beauty? I made it with my own hands.”

  Big deal. It would be a lot harder to make a toilet seat with somebody else’s hands.

  We all gathered around to see the Party Pooper prototype. It was beautiful. I think it’s safe to say it was the most beautiful toilet seat I had ever seen. And believe me, I’ve seen a lot of toilet seats in my time.

  At that moment, Mr. Klutz came into the class. He was followed by a whole bunch of teachers—our librarian, Mrs. Roopy; the computer teacher, Mrs. Yonkers; the art teacher, Ms. Hannah; and the school counselor, Dr. Brad. Our class was swarming with teachers!

  “We heard about your new toilet seat,” Mr. Klutz said excitedly. “We wanted to see it.”

  “It looks like a plain old toilet seat to me,” said Mrs. Roopy.

  “Ah, but it’s different,” said Mrs. Master as she unrolled a cord attached to the toilet seat and plugged it into an electric outlet. “Here, touch it.”

  Mrs. Roopy put her hand on the toilet seat.

  “Ooh, it’s warm and toasty,” she said.

  “Hey,” I shouted, “maybe people could use it to make toast!”

  “Nobody’s going to make toast on a toilet seat, dumbhead!” said Andrea.

  “Oh, snap!” said Ryan.

  I was going to say something mean to Andrea, but I didn’t have the chance.

  “Check this out,” said Mr. Cooper. “Turn off the lights in the room, please.”

  Somebody flipped the switch. Everything went black except for the toilet seat, which gave off a soft blue light.

  “It glows in the dark!” said Mrs. Master. “So you can find it at night without turning the lights on.”

  “Cool!” all the teachers yelled.

  “And it smells nice too,” added Mr. Cooper. “The heating element inside the toilet seat activates a floral scent. It will make people feel like they’re pooping in a fragrant forest.”

  Who wants to poop in the forest? I’d rather poop in a bathroom. I bet even bears would rather poop in a bathroom than in the forest.*

  “It’s amazing!” said Ms. Hannah.

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” said Mr. Cooper as he waved his hand in front of the toilet seat. “Listen to this.”

  “My . . . name . . . is . . . Party Pooper,” the toilet seat said in a computery voice. “I’m . . . your . . . friend.”

  “Your toilet seat talks?” asked Dr. Brad.

  “It does more than just talk,” said Mr. Cooper. “I worked with our computer teacher, Mrs. Yonkers, on this part. We put a motion detector and a computer chip in Party Pooper. When it senses there’s a person nearby, it will have a little conversation with you to keep you company while you’re in the bathroom. Go ahead, try it.”

  “Hello, Party Pooper,” said Mr. Klutz. “Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

  “Lovely,” said the toilet seat. “Why . . . don’t . . . you . . . sit . . . down? How . . . is . . . your . . . day . . . going?”

  “It’s a hard day,” Mr. Klutz told the toilet seat.

  “Tell . . . me . . . about . . . your . . . hard . . . day,” said Party Pooper.

  “Oh, I had another fight with Dr. Carbles, the president of the Board of Education,” Mr. Klutz replied. “He doesn’t like me very much.”

  “And . . . how . . . does . . . that . . . make . . . you . . . feel?” asked Party Pooper.

  “Terrible,” said Mr. Klutz.

  “I . . . am . . . sorry . . . you . . . had . . . a . . . fight,” said Party Pooper. “Perhaps . . . things . . . will . . . turn out . . . better . . . tomorrow.”

  “See?” said Mrs. Master. “The toilet seat uses artificial intelligence, so it sounds just like a real counselor.”

  “I feel better already!” said
Mr. Klutz.

  Dr. Brad, our school counselor, didn’t look very happy.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “So this thing can help you with your personal problems while you’re in the bathroom?”

  “That’s right,” said Mrs. Master.

  Dr. Brad sighed and made his way toward the door.

  “I guess you won’t be needing me anymore,” he said. “I figured I might lose my job someday. But I never thought I’d be replaced by a toilet seat.”

  We all felt bad for Dr. Brad. It would be a bummer to lose your job to a toilet seat. But the other teachers were really excited about Party Pooper.

  “I want to buy one!” said Mrs. Roopy.

  “Me too!” said Ms. Hannah.

  “Me three!” said Mrs. Yonkers.

  “We don’t have any Party Poopers to sell yet,” said Mrs. Master. “Before we can sell it, we need to raise some money.”

  “Why?” asked Mr. Cooper. “People are going to give us money when they buy the toilet seat, right?”

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Master, “but we have to get a factory to build more Party Poopers so we have something to sell. That costs money. You have to spend money to make money, and it costs a lot to create a new product. Toilet seats don’t grow on trees, you know.”

  That would be cool if toilet seats did grow on trees. Of course, if toilet seats grew on trees, there would be no reason to start a company to sell them. You could just pick them off the trees, like fruit.

  Mrs. Master said we needed to make a thousand toilet seats to start. Then, if sales were good, we would tell the factory to make another thousand.

  A thousand toilet seats? That would cost a lot of money.

  We all went through our pockets to see how much money we had. Ryan had a dollar. Emily had two quarters. I had thirty-five cents and some gummy bears. We didn’t have nearly enough money to build a thousand toilet seats.

  That’s when I got another genius idea.

  “Hey,” I said, “in NASCAR they have stickers with company logos all over the cars. Like, Burger King will pay money so they can put their logo on the car. What if we did that with Party Pooper?”

  “Burger King isn’t going to put their logo on a toilet seat, dumbhead!” Andrea told me.

  That’s it. I was sick of Andrea saying mean things to me.

  “Your face looks like a toilet seat,” I shouted at her.

  “Oh, snap!” said Ryan.

  “Here’s what we need to do,” said Mrs. Master. “We need to get investors—grown-ups who will pay money to buy shares in our company. Then, if the company makes money, the investors will get some of the profits.”

  “Party Pooper can’t miss,” Mr. Cooper said as he reached into his pocket. “I want to invest my life savings in the company. I’ll chip in a thousand dollars.”

  “WOW,” we all said, which is “MOM” upside down. A thousand is one less than a million!

  Mr. Cooper wrote out a check and gave it to Mrs. Master.

  “I’ll invest a thousand dollars too!” said Mrs. Roopy. “I want to buy a piece of the company.”

  “Me too!” said Ms. Hannah.

  “Me three!” said Mrs. Yonkers.

  “Me four!” said Mr. Klutz.

  All the teachers started writing checks and taking money out of their wallets to give to Mrs. Master. They were practically throwing checks and bills at her. I had never seen so much money in my life.

  “This is fantastic!” Mrs. Master said as she counted the money. “I’ll contact some factories this afternoon. Then they can start making Party Poopers right away.”

  “Of course the children will still own most of the shares in the company,” said Mrs. Master. “After all, Party Pooper was their idea.”

  “Yay!” we all shouted.

  Everybody was excited about our new company. All the teachers were shaking hands and hugging each other. Mrs. Yonkers said she would set up a website so people could order Party Pooper over the internet. Ms. Hannah said she would make some artwork to use in newspapers and magazines, and online.

  This thing was really happening! We were gonna make bazillions! And the whole thing was my idea.

  “What are we going to study now?” Andrea asked Mr. Cooper after the other teachers left the classroom. “Reading, writing, or math?”

  “None of those things,” Mr. Cooper replied. “We’re going to talk about toilet seats.”

  Well that was different. I’ll bet your teacher never said instead of studying reading, writing, or math, you were going to talk about toilet seats.

  “The next thing we need to do,” said Mrs. Master, “is to decide how much we charge for Party Pooper.”

  “Why don’t we give it away for free?” suggested Emily. “That way, lots of people can enjoy it.”

  “Then we don’t make any money, dumbhead,” I told Emily. “You can’t make money if you give stuff away for free!”

  “You’re mean!” Emily shouted, and then she went running out of the room.

  Sheesh. What a crybaby.

  “That wasn’t very nice, A.J.,” said Mrs. Master. “But you’re right. You’ve got to charge money to make money.”

  “How about we sell it for ten dollars?” suggested Neil.

  “Well, the factory will probably charge around fifty dollars just to make each Party Pooper,” said Mrs. Master. “We would lose money if we sold it for ten dollars.”

  “How about we sell it for a hundred dollars?” Ryan suggested. “That’s a nice round number.”

  “Hmmm,” said Mrs. Master.

  “So if we sell ten Party Poopers for a hundred dollars each,” said Mr. Cooper, “how much money will come in?”

  Everybody rushed to take a calculator out of their desk.

  “A thousand dollars!” shouted Andrea. Then she smiled the smile that she smiles to let everybody know that she knows something nobody else knows.

  “Right!” said Mr. Cooper. “And if we sell a hundred Party Poopers for a hundred dollars each, how much money will come in?”

  Everybody rushed to figure it out.

  “Ten thousand dollars!” shouted Andrea before anybody else.

  “Right!” replied Mr. Cooper.

  “Hey,” I said. “I thought you told us we weren’t going to work on math. This sounds a lot like math to me.”

  “Not at all, A.J.,” said Mr. Cooper. “This isn’t math. We’re just talking about toilet seats. And if we sell a thousand Party Poopers for a hundred dollars each, how much money will come in?”

  Everybody rushed to figure it out. This was really sounding like math to me.

  “A hundred thousand dollars!” shouted Andrea.

  “Right!” said Mr. Cooper. “And if we sell ten thousand Party Poopers for a hundred dollars each, how much money will come in?”

  “A MILLION DOLLARS!” shouted Andrea.

  “Right!”

  “Hey, how many Party Poopers do we have to sell to make a bazillion dollars?” I asked.

  “There’s no such thing as a bazillion dollars,” said Mrs. Master.

  I knew it!

  “A hundred dollars seems like a good price to me,” said Alexia.

  “I don’t know,” said Michael. “That still sounds like a lot of money to pay for a toilet seat.”

  “Here’s a little secret,” said Mrs. Master, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Instead of charging a hundred dollars, we can sell the Party Pooper for $99.99.”

  “But that’s just one penny less than a hundred dollars,” said Andrea.

  “Yes, but it sounds like a lot less than a hundred dollars,” said Mrs. Master. “That’s why prices for things we buy often end with ninety-nine cents.”

  That didn’t make any sense at all. Or cents.

  “You are all shareholders in the company,” said Mrs. Master, “so you need to vote on it. All those in favor of selling Party Pooper for $99.99, say aye.”

  “Aye!” we all shouted.

  “All those opposed, say nay.”<
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  Nobody said nay. I wasn’t going to make horse noises.

  “Then it’s decided,” said Mrs. Master. “We’ll sell Party Pooper for $99.99.”

  When we got to school the next morning, it was just like any other day. Except that it was completely different.

  Mr. Cooper was on the phone, yelling at somebody.

  “I told you we need a thousand toilet seats!” he hollered. “And we need them now!”

  While Mr. Cooper was arguing, Andrea had on her worried face.

  “What’s the matter with you?” I asked her. “Did your clog-dancing lesson get canceled?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m worried that Mr. Cooper is going overboard with this toilet seat thing.”

  “He’s falling out of a boat?” I asked.

  What do boats have to do with toilet seats? I didn’t even see a boat anywhere.*

  “No, dumbhead!” said Andrea. “Can’t you see? Mr. Cooper doesn’t pay any attention to teaching anymore. I asked him if we were going to work on our spelling today, and he said we would spend the whole day selling toilet seats!”

  “Good,” I told Andrea. “Why do we need to know how to spell if we can make bazillions selling Party Poopers?”

  “Bazillions is not a real number, Arlo!” Andrea huffed.

  I was going to say something mean to her, but that’s when Mrs. Master came rolling into the class on her hover board lawn mower.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I was working on my next invention. It’s a smoke detector that stops beeping when you shout ‘I’m just cooking bacon!’”

  “That’s a great idea, Grandma!” said Alexia.

  Mr. Cooper finished his phone call and told us the factory promised they would deliver five hundred toilet seats on Monday and another five hundred a few days later.

  “Yay!” everybody shouted.

  “Great!” said Mrs. Master. “Now it’s time for us to tell the world about our new product. Word of mouth is the best advertising. So we’re going to go out in the street selling Party Poopers door-to-door.”

  “Is Mr. Klutz okay with us doing this during school hours?” asked Emily.