Calling All Birdbrains

by R. L. Stine

  “Remember about the I. B. Rotten Games?” she asked. “You and I are going to be a great team—aren’t we, Bernie Face?”

  “Uh…I can’t breathe,” I gasped. “I think you crushed my ribs to sawdust.”

  She giggled. “You know I want to win every game and take home the I. B. Rotten Trophy.”

  “T-trophy?” I stammered, feeling my lungs collapse beneath her.

  “I collect trophies,” The Ecch said. “I have two thousand of them in my dorm room. Just the ones I could bring from home.”

  “N-nice,” I choked out.

  She leaned over me and narrowed her brown eye and her blue eye to slits. “You’d better not mess up, Goo-Goo Eyes,” she said. “You’d better help me win every game. I’d hate to do some more arm cracking! I’d hate to bend you into a pretzel.”

  Yikes! More arm cracking? Pretzel bending?

  I need my arms to play Uno!

  “Hey, I’m a winner,” I said. “No way we can lose!”

  She climbed off, lifted me up with one hand, and dusted me off with the other. Then she gave my hand one last, long, sticky lick with her big cow tongue and thundered off to class.

  No way we can win, I thought sadly. Not with Bad-Luck Lippy around.

  The Ecch will be cracking my arms into talcum powder.

  Unless…

  Suddenly, I knew what I had to do.

  I ran back to the dorm and picked up Lippy in his cage. I carried the cage to the middle of R.U. Dumm Field, our soccer field.

  I pulled open the cage door and lifted my sweet parrot out. Then I held him in both hands in front of me.

  I had tears in my eyes. My whole body was trembling. But I had no choice.

  I raised Lippy high—and tossed him into the sky.

  “You’re free, Lippy!” I cried. “Free! Fly away! Fly away, free!”

  Chapter 13

  "WHAT HAVE I DONE?”

  Tears blurred my eyes. But I watched Lippy flap his wings and fly. He sailed up to the clouds, turned, and flew away.

  I brushed away my tears. “He’ll have a happier life,” I told myself. “And so will I.”

  I trudged to class, thinking about my sweet bird and all his clever, adorable sayings. I didn’t hear a word Mrs. Heinie said all morning.

  At lunch in the Dining Hall, my stomach was doing somersaults. I couldn’t eat a thing.

  My friend Beast dipped his head into my plate and gobbled down my entire lunch. Beast does that to everyone. That’s why he usually sits alone.

  I didn’t care about food. I was too upset over my tragic loss.

  When I got outside, I realized Beast had also eaten my shirt!

  Mrs. Heinie wouldn’t let me back into class with a bare chest. So I made my way back to Rotten House.

  All across the Great Lawn, kids were laughing, singing, dancing, pushing each other into Pooper’s Pond. I wished I could be happy, too.

  But I just kept muttering to myself, “What have I done? What have I done?”

  I pulled myself up the stairs to the third floor and stepped into my room.

  And there sat Lippy on his perch by the open window.

  Chapter 14

  WHO DESERVES A LITTLE BAD LUCK?

  “Lippy! You’re home!” I cried happily.

  I ran across the room with outstretched arms. “Here’s a big hug! Here’s a big hug for my pretty bird!”

  Halfway to the window, I tripped over some books on the floor, fell hard—and cut both knees.

  Bad Luck Lippy strikes again.

  Forget the hug. The bird had to go!

  I bandaged my knees. Then I picked up the squawking bad-luck bird and carried him outside.

  The Bernie B. brain was plugging and chugging. I knew Lippy wouldn’t fly away. But maybe…maybe I could give him away!

  I walked past the girls’ dorm. No one around. I turned and crossed R.U. Dumm Field. Some third graders had an air soccer game going.

  Can you imagine playing soccer without a ball?!

  No way I’d trust any of them with my precious Lippy!

  I followed the path across the Great Lawn. I heard a growl and saw Beast down on all fours, chasing a squirrel. Maybe Beast would like a pet, I thought.

  But no. Bad idea. Beast ate a chipmunk last week on a dare.

  “Who needs a nice parrot?” I asked myself. “Who deserves a little bad luck?”

  And then I saw Sherman Oaks. He was standing in the middle of a crowd of kids. Sherman, my old buddy. What do you give a kid who already has everything?

  A bad-luck parrot, of course.

  Sherman was showing off, as usual. The kids were all oohing and aahing as Sherman demonstrated his new, solid gold cell phone.

  “The screen lights up, and the back lights up, and the sides light up,” Sherman said. “When you hold it, your hand lights up!”

  “This phone is so powerful,” Sherman said, “it picks up calls from other planets!”

  Sherman is the luckiest dude on earth, I decided. Should I give Lippy to him and change his luck?

  How great would that be?

  The idea got me so excited, I squeezed Lippy a little too hard.

  He made a gagging sound and spit up some yellow gunk onto my school blazer.

  “Yo! Sherman!” I shouted. I pushed my way through the crowd. “Sherman, I’ve got something special for you, dude! This is your lucky day!”

  Chapter 15

  BIRD PLOP FOR BRAINS

  Sherman wasn’t finished showing off his phone. “With this phone, I can call people I don’t even know!” he said.

  His phone rang. Sherman let out a cry of surprise. He raised the phone to his ear. “Hello? Who is this?”

  “It’s me,” I said, speaking into my cell phone. “I’m trying to get your attention.”

  Sherman lowered his phone and came walking over to me. “What do you want, Bernie?” He slipped the solid gold phone into his shirt.

  “It’s your lucky day,” I said. “I decided to sell this rare, Patagonian parrot.”

  Sherman stared at Lippy. “Where are his feathers? He’s totally bald!”

  “That’s what makes him rare,” I said. “I know you want to pay two hundred dollars for him. But you’re my old pal, Shermie. I’ll sell him to you for ten bucks.”

  “No thanks,” Sherman said.

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “Three dollars. And I’ll throw in his perch. That’s my final price.”

  “No thanks,” Sherman said.

  “Okay,” I said. “You drive a hard bargain. You can have him for free. Go ahead. Take him. Tell you what—I’ll pay you five dollars.”

  “No thanks,” Sherman said.

  This was tough. Sherman wasn’t buying. But I knew I had to keep trying.

  Bernie B. is always an honest guy. Except when a little white lie might help smooth things out. Like maybe now.

  “I’ll tell you the truth,” I said. “The total truth. Lippy is a good-luck charm.”

  Sherman’s eyes grew wide. He squinted at Lippy. “He is?”

  “If you have Lippy on your shoulder, you can’t lose,” I said. “Sherman, why do you think I win every Uno game?”

  “Because you cheat?”

  “No. Because I always have Lippy with me.”

  Sherman reached out and fingered Lippy’s bald head. “He’s really lucky?” he asked.

  I finally had him hooked.

  “If you take the parrot, I’ll never beat you at Uno again,” I said. “You’ll win every game. You’ll never lose at anything. You’ll see.”

  He petted Lippy’s head again. “Anything?”

  Lippy snapped his beak and bit part of Sherman’s thumb off.

  “That’s lucky!” I said. “If he bites you like that, it means you’ll have good luck for a week.”

  “Okay. I’ll take him,” Sherman said. “You sure he’s a good-luck charm?”

  I perched Lippy on Sherman’s shoulder. The bird dug his claws through Sherman’s shirt.r />
  “That’s even more good luck!” I said.

  Sherman turned and walked off smiling, with Lippy squawking on his shoulder.

  “More good luck for ME!” I said softly.

  With that bad-luck bird gone, I could feel the good luck flowing back to me.

  I pumped my fists into the air. I did a little celebration dance.

  Across the lawn, Sherman tripped over a garden hose and fell flat on his perfectly tanned face.

  Chapter 16

  TIME TO START ACKING

  Saturday afternoon in the Student Center, I planned to study with Feenman and Crench. Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not like we do schoolwork on a Saturday afternoon. We were going to study some new bubble gum flavors.

  You know. Serious stuff.

  I wandered into the game room and saw Sherman at the Ping-Pong table. Sharonda Davis, April-May’s friend, was at the other end. Sharonda and Sherman were slamming the ball back and forth over the net at each other. They were grunting and sweating and running from side to side.

  “No way Sherman can win,” I told myself. He had Bad-Luck Lippy on his shoulder. That meant he couldn’t win at Ping-Pong if he used a tennis racket for a paddle!

  I watched the battle for a while. They both worked up a sweat. Sharonda slammed the ball so hard, it cracked and flew off the table.

  Finally, she threw down her paddle, muttering to herself. “I don’t believe it…. I don’t believe you beat me again, Sherman.”

  Sherman came over to me, a big sixty-five-tooth smile on his face. “Thanks, Bernie,” he said. “You were right about Lippy.”

  “Excuse me?” My mouth dropped open. “What do you mean?”

  “I won twelve straight games,” Sherman said. He petted Lippy’s bald head. “Thanks to my lucky parrot.”

  Weird. Sharonda is a champion Ping-Pong player.

  “Gotta hurry,” Sherman said. He pulled out a leopard-skin handkerchief and wiped the sweat off his forehead. “I’m meeting April-May.”

  Huh? He was meeting MY girlfriend?

  “We’re going to have a picnic at Pooper’s Pond,” Sherman said.

  I said. I was too choked up to talk.

  I followed him out of the Student Center. April-May was waiting for him. Her blue eyes flashed, and she gave him a big smile.

  She wrapped her arm in his. “Shermie, you’re so cute with that adorable parrot on your shoulder,” she gushed.

  Shermie?? Adorable parrot??

  I couldn’t stop acking.

  Arm in arm, they started to walk away. Suddenly, Sherman stopped. He bent down and picked something up from the grass.

  “Check it out, April-May,” he said. “I just found a twenty-dollar bill!”

  Sherman? Suddenly lucky?

  “Calm down, Big B. This can’t be happening,” I told myself. “Wait till the all-night Uno tournament tonight. We’ll see who’s lucky!”

  Chapter 17

  “URRRRRRP,” CRENCH REPLIED

  Sherman won every game that night. He took every dime I had.

  And the whole night, that stupid parrot on his shoulder kept squawking:

  Finally, I handed my wallet to Sherman. “Keep it,” I said. “I don’t have anything left to put into it.”

  “Thanks, Bernie,” Sherman replied, slapping me on the back. “I couldn’t have done it without you!” Then he laughed for about ten minutes.

  What a sore winner!

  I staggered back to the dorm. I could still hear that parrot squawking and crowing.

  I trudged into Feenman and Crench’s room and dropped weakly onto the edge of their bunk bed. “Root beer,” I moaned. “Bring me gallons of Foamy Root Beer. I love Foamy Root Beer.”

  Feenman pulled some cans out from their hiding place under his mountain of dirty clothes. The three of us drank silently for a while, wiping the foam off our faces with the backs of our hands.

  After a three-or four-minute burping session, I shook my head sadly. “Thanks to that traitor parrot,” I moaned, “Sherman is now the luckiest dude in school.”

  “Who knew the bird would turn lucky again?” Feenman said.

  Crench wasn’t finished burping.

  Foamy Root Beer is very bubbly. Sometimes after you drink it, you burp for two or three days.

  “Sherman is bragging all over campus,” Feenman said. “He says he’s going to win every game at the I. B. Rotten Competition.”

  “He is going to win every game,” Crench said. “With Lucky Lippy, no way he can lose.”

  I slapped my forehead. “What am I going to do?” I moaned. “When are those games? The day after tomorrow, right?”

  Crench replied.

  “Jennifer says she and I have to win every game,” I said, shuddering. “If I don’t get that bird back, she’ll…she’ll…”

  I knew exactly what Jennifer would do to me. Crack my arms and bend me into a pretzel.

  But I couldn’t say it. “Aaaack, aaaack.” I started acking again.

  “Get Bernie some more soda,” Crench said.

  Feenman dove under his dirty clothes pile.

  “Aaaaack. No time for root beer,” I moaned. “I’ve got to get Lippy back from Sherman. Now.”

  Chapter 18

  GASSY SHOWS OFF

  The next day, I brought my pet bulldog, Gassy, over to Nyce House, Sherman’s dorm. You can probably guess how my dog got his name.

  I found Sherman in the Commons Room with Wes Updood and a bunch of his buddies. He had Lippy on his shoulder. And believe it or not, Sherman was still showing off his new gold cell phone.

  “See this bright yellow light? Know what that’s for?” Sherman asked. “It’s so I can tell which pants pocket the phone is in!”

  “It’s like a cherry in your ear,” Wes Updood said to me. “Without the stem. Know what I’m saying?”

  “No,” I said.

  Gassy wagged his stub of a tail.

  “Wet dogs don’t chew their food,” Wes said. “But you can look up fiduciary if you don’t know how to spell it. Know what I mean?”

  “No,” I said.

  Wes is so awesomely cool, I wish I could understand him.

  I pushed through the crowd and stepped up to Sherman. “I’ve gotta apologize,” I said. “I did a bad thing.”

  Sherman slipped the cell phone into his pants pocket. I could see it glowing in there.

  “I didn’t give you the REAL lucky pet,” I said. “And I feel bad about it, Sherm, because you’re my buddy.”

  I pushed my sweet bulldog up to Sherman. “Here he is—the real good-luck guy. He’ll bring you so much good luck, you won’t know what hit you!”

  Sherman squinted down at Gassy. “That fat thing is good luck?”

  I nodded. “I feel so bad, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll give you Gassy and take Lippy off your hands. It means I’m gonna have a lot of bad luck. But that’s okay. I want to do the right thing.”

  I reached for Lippy.

  But at that moment, Gassy decided to live up to his name.

  We all heard it. And then we all smelled it.

  It was BAD…. So bad, it set off the smoke alarms!

  Sherman’s friends were gagging and retching and sick on the floor.

  “Take Gassy, Sherman. Don’t let his little stomach problems keep you from having good luck,” I said.

  Sherman dropped to his knees, holding his nose. “OUT!” he screamed. “OUT! I’m dying! I’m DYING!

  Get that dog OUTTA here!”

  “Okay, okay, don’t shove,” I said. “You don’t want good luck? Fine. I’m going.”

  Chapter 19

  WHO’S A GOOD BIRD?

  I’m a good guy. I’m not a thief.

  But what choice did I have? Spend the rest of my life as a pretzel? Or steal Lippy away from Sherman?

  That night, I paced back and forth in my room. Feenman popped his head in. “What’s up, Bernie?

  “What’s up? What’s up? How can you ask what’s up?” I cri
ed. “The games are tomorrow morning. You know I have to help my partner, The Ecch, win every game. What can I do?”

  Feenman scratched his head. “I saw a movie about a boy who runs away from home and joins a circus. He gets a job shoveling up after the elephants, and—”

  “Stop right there,” I said. “I’m allergic to big animals.”

  Feenman shrugged. “That’s all I can think of.”

  “Thanks for your help,” I said.

  I already knew what I had to do. Sneak into Sherman’s room and steal Lucky Lippy back.

  A piece of cake. Sherman’s room was in the back of Nyce House, on the first floor. All I had to do was climb in his window, grab the bird, and run.

  I waited until midnight. Everyone was asleep. I crept down the stairs silently in my stocking feet. Then I pulled on my sneakers and slipped out the front door.

  A cool, clear night. A full moon and hundreds of twinkling stars to lead my way across the silent, empty campus.

  My heart pounded. Not from being scared. From happiness. Soon, all the good luck would be mine again—and just in time for the games!

  I made my way around to the back of the dorm. Hunching low behind a row of bushes, I counted the windows to Sherman’s room.

  The window was open. I grabbed the window ledge and hoisted myself up. I peered inside to make sure I had the right room.

  Yes. I could see Sherman’s favorite poster on the wall—a poster of a big dollar sign.

  I heaved myself onto the ledge and dropped silently into the room. I took a deep breath and held it, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

  In the yellow moonlight coming through the window, I saw Sherman in his bed, wearing his favorite dollar-sign eye mask. He was sound asleep on his satin pillow, under his zebra-skin blanket.