by Jeff Strand
"What are you going to do with it?" asked Julie.
I draped another paper towel over the dish. "Take it to the bathroom and throw it away, where Mrs. Jones won't find it."
"It does smell good," said Julie. "I think you should try it."
"Yeah, right."
Mrs. Jones walked back into the classroom right as the bell rang and told us to leave our lab books on the table, so she could collect and grade them. Fortunately, I was able to move past her without her noticing the paper towel-covered petrie dish I was carrying.
As I headed for the bathroom, I got another whiff of the glop, and decided not to throw it away just yet. Maybe this was a genuine scientific discovery. Maybe it could cure glomerulonephritis! I picked up my pace so I wouldn't be late to my next class, and made a quick detour to my locker. I set the dish on the top shelf, right beside my glow-in-the-dark wart, then shut my locker and hurried off to my next class.
WHEN PRE-ALGEBRA ENDED and my day at school was officially complete, Scoopy and I walked back to my locker. I spent a few moments once again trying to remember my combination, then opened it. The smell was overwhelming. And it was goooooooooood.
"Whoa!" said Scoopy. "What is that?"
"A chemical reaction."
"Can I have some?"
"No. It's probably..." I started to say "poison," but hadn't the lab sheet said that none of the chemicals were harmful? The only real danger would be catching some horrible and disgusting disease from Andy's spit. What could it hurt to let Scoopy try some?
I removed the paper towel, grabbed the petrie dish, and held it out to him. "Here, grab a blob."
Scoopy pinched off some between his index finger and thumb, sniffed it, gave a wide smile, then shoved it into his mouth and began chewing.
"This is the best gum I've ever had!" Scoopy proclaimed. "If you tried to sell this, you could become a millionaire!"
"Is it really that good?"
"Try some yourself!"
"No, that's okay." I'd seen how it was made, and that was enough to convince me that I didn't want it going into my mouth. "But are you serious? It's really the best gum you've ever had?"
"Without a doubt."
"Well, then," I said, "I think it's time for us to become millionaires."
Chapter Five Quiz
1. How many fingers am I holding up?
2. What is the meaning of life? (For bonus points, also explain the meaning of something else.)
3. Which chapter number is this quiz for? (For bonus points, also tell which chapter number the chapter four quiz was for.)
Chapter Six
"WHAT ARE YOU boys doing?"
Scoopy and I stopped what we were doing, which is, Scoopy was rolling the glop into little balls, and I was covering them with powdered sugar and then wrapping them in aluminum foil. So far we'd made about fifteen of them, and it looked like we'd get another ten or so before we'd used up the last of the glop.
"Hi, Mom," I said. "We're just working on an experiment for science class."
I haven't described my mom yet, and I'm proud to announce that I have the coolest mother alive. The coolest father, too. The reason they're so cool is that they know when to be normal, boring parents and when to be fun.
For example, when they're driving my friends and I somewhere, you will never, ever hear them sing along to a popular song, thus embarrassing me beyond the point of no return. One time I was in the car with Howard Mosher when his mom was driving us home from the movies, and she started singing along to a current rap song in a very loud, energetic voice. That was the last I ever heard of Howard.
And yet, while my parents have never tried to sabotage my social life by pretending to be hip young kids, they can be all kinds of fun. I can take them to the movies without fear of humiliation, they play a mean game of miniature golf, and we play board games at home all the time. The only time my dad embarrasses me is when he gets all worked up about wanting to be the car in Monopoly.
"What kind of experiment?" Mom asked.
"We're making gum," I said.
"You're doing a scientific experiment where you make gum? And this is for school? I didn't think you were even allowed to chew gum in school."
"That was last year. Now that we're in junior high we can chew all the gum we want. We've earned the right."
"It smells really good. What did you use to make it?"
"I forget," I admitted. "It's written on the lab sheet at school. Actually, right now we're concentrating on the business portion of the experiment."
Mom furrowed her brow. "This is one of those instances where I'd be better off just going downstairs to make dinner and pretend I never heard a thing, isn't it?"
"No, it's no big deal," I said. "We're going to sell some gum, that's all."
"Elrod, my son, I love you very much, but the words ‘it's no big deal' and ‘Elrod McBugle' just don't go together. I'm going downstairs to make dinner. I never heard a thing."
ONE OF THE keys to a successful business venture is losing tons of money at first so that when you finally start to show a profit you appreciate it more. At least that's the way I understand it. While Scoopy and I hadn't invested any money into our gum business yet, we did decide to give away our first twenty-five pieces as free samples. Okay, our first eighteen pieces, since a certain member of our partnership couldn't keep from chomping down on a few pieces.
We got to school a couple minutes early, which was a big deal for Scoopy, and walked up to a group of kids standing outside the main entrance. We'd taken the lid of a cardboard box and turned it into an elaborate display case, with the name "McBugle Chew" written in big letters on the front. I held the box out to the kids for their inspection.
"Free samples!" I said. "It's the best gum you'll ever chew. If you disagree, I'll take the sample right out of your mouth and chew it myself."
The kids helped themselves to a few of the pieces. "This is delicious!" one girl proclaimed. The other kids chewed and nodded their agreement.
"Remember, it's McBugle Chew," I said. "Tell your friends."
We gave out the rest of the free samples on the way to first period. As the day progressed, more and more people came up to me asking where they could get some.
"It goes on sale Monday," I said. "Bring lots of money."
When it was finally time for science class, I had two missions. First, copy down everything I'd written in the lab book. Second, convince Julie to join our partnership. I'll be honest, I didn't really want to share the profits, but since Julie already knew how McBugle Chew had been invented, I figured it was best to fend off the potential competition early. Besides, she could help pay for ingredients and provide some manual labor.
Her first reaction was "You let human beings chew that stuff???"
"Yes," I said.
"Why???" she asked.
"Because," I said.
"Are you crazy???" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
She stared at me, horrified.
"By the way, people are willing to pay for it," I said. "Do you want to join us in making all kinds of money?"
"Yes," she said.
And so it was settled. Julie's job was to buy the chemicals we needed, while Scoopy's job was to purchase a wide variety of bubble gum brands and flavors. My job was to make two more McBugle Chew display boxes, and fix the first one because "Chew" had fallen off. Surprisingly, there was no complaint about my having named the gum after myself. I guess Julie's reasoning was that if something went seriously wrong, I'd be the one to take the blame.
Julie is a very smart girl.
The next day, Saturday, I woke up early. Then I went back to sleep, because there was no way Scoopy would be awake anytime before one in the afternoon. I got up around nine, ate a couple bowls of cereal-shaped sugar, and finished my display cases. I watched a bit of brain-rotting television, read a brain-rotting horror book about killer fuzzy slippers that bit people's feet off, and called Scoopy around twelve-thirty.
"It's about time," he said. "I was wondering how late you were going to sleep."
"What are you talking about? I was waiting for you."
"I've been up since seven-thirty. I feel great! Let's make some gum!"
This gum truly had powers beyond anything we imagined.
I talked to Julie, after five minutes of interrogation by her father about why I (a boy) was calling his precious daughter (a girl). She said she'd be over in fifteen minutes.
So finally we were all together, in my kitchen, ready to make our fortune. We mixed the chemicals exactly as we had during class, except that we used a plastic pitcher instead of a glass beaker, and finally ended up with the same nasty brownish-black liquid.
"I chewed that?" asked Scoopy, looking sick to his stomach.
Next came the moment of truth. I unwrapped a piece of strawberry bubble gum, held it above the pitcher, and paused dramatically. If you're going to be a successful inventor, you have to know how to use those dramatic pauses.
Then I dropped it in.
Two seconds later, we were all still alive, which is always good. Since this is a book about my wacky misadventures, I'd like to be able to say that an enormous blob of gum burst out of the pitcher, covering every square inch of the kitchen. And then I'd describe how my father walked in, clenched his fists, and shouted "ELROOOOOD!!!" while his face turned red and smoke came out of his ears.
But, as it turned out, the gum worked exactly as before. Our plan was a success.
We experimented with different kinds of gum, and they all turned out equally delicious. At least, Scoopy said they were...Julie and I wouldn't try any. By the end of the day we had all three display cases filled, with 150 pieces per case. At a quarter a piece, we'd make over a hundred dollars if we sold them all. And this was just a one-day supply. It was time to get rich!
MONDAY MORNING SCOOPY and I arrived at school half an hour early. We would have been there even earlier, but I just couldn't get moving as quickly as him. Julie was already there, and she waved excitedly to us.
"I've sold eighteen pieces so far!" she said. "People love it!"
There was no doubt that she was right. By the end of first period I'd sold more than half of my supply. By the end of second period it was completely gone, and people were bugging me about getting more.
Everything was wonderful!
Until the start of seventh period.
Chapter Six Quiz
1. 5 + 4 = ?
2. 12 + 7 = ?
3. 18 + 9 - 16 + 5791.32 - 17,382,190.88888 + 2 = ?
Chapter Seven
WHEN I FIRST SAW the sign on the science room door, "Mrs. Jones' class, please meet in Room 212," I didn't really think anything of it. Behind the teacher's desk in Room 212 sat a tall, cheerful-looking man in a three piece suit. After we were all settled, he wrote "Mr. Flipson" on the board.
"Mrs. Jones' husband is in the hospital with nose job complications, so I'll be your substitute for the next week or so," he explained. "I apologize for making you wander all over the place, but there's been a horrendous smell in your real classroom since this afternoon. It's enough to make you sick."
"Warren must've been in there," said Andy, slapping his good buddy on the back.
"The custodian found the source," said Mr. Flipson. "It's some brownish-black stain on one of the lab tables, but he can't seem to get it off."
Julie and I looked at each other. It was not a happy look.
After informing us that having a substitute did not mean this was a free day, Mr. Flipson lectured to us from our science book. I raised my hand and asked to use the restroom, explaining that no, it couldn't wait. I grabbed the hall pass and left the room, then hurried to our real classroom.
I pushed open the door and grimaced. Yes, this was one bad smell. Consider yourself very lucky that this isn't a scratch-and-sniff book or you'd be on the floor making gagging noises. I held my nose and walked to the lab table where Julie and I had worked. The stain was there, and it was definitely the place where the pink gum glop had oozed over the side of the beaker. Apparently wiping it up with a towel hadn't been good enough.
Okay, so, a whole bunch of students had chewed gum that started out delicious, then later turned nauseating. That didn't mean anything bad was going to happen. I mean, they all spit it out, right? Maybe some of them stuck it under their desks, which might lead to some stinky classrooms, but there wouldn't be any health risks, right? Right?
Oh, man, was I in trouble.
I DID NOT HAVE pleasant dreams that night. I dreamed that I was in court, being tried for the murders of half the students of Greenwater Junior High.
"And in conclusion, Your Honor," said the prosecuting attorney, "I wish to say that Elrod McBugle is a bad, bad, bad person! He's selfish and greedy and uncaring and I hate him! I want him sent to jail for the rest of his life! You're a jerk, McBugle! That will be all."
The judge checked his watch. "Since the defense attorney is still in the bathroom, we're going to skip ahead to jury deliberations."
The head juror stood. "Your Honor, we've been passing notes throughout the trial which indicate that all of us think Mr. McBugle is completely guilty. That is, except for Juror #11, but I think you'll agree that he's a real dork."
The judge shook his head. "I'm afraid my official ruling is that Juror Eleven is, in fact, a dweeb."
"Yes, Your Honor. Anyway, I say we send this McBugle kid to jail for the rest of his life and go out for pizza."
"Very well." The judge pounded his gavel. "Elrod McBugle, for the crime of killing your classmates with bad gum, I hereby sentence you to life in prison without parole! But you still have to do all your homework!"
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!" I said as I sat up in bed. I shook my hands, spraying sweat everywhere like a dog shaking itself after a bath. I looked at the clock and saw that it was three in the morning. My stomach hurt. It couldn't have been from dinner, since I hadn't been able to eat.
I wanted to call Scoopy to see how he was doing, but I figured if he was fine his parents would be mad at me for waking them up, and if he was dead his parents would have more important things to do than answer the phone.
When I finally went back to sleep, I dreamed I was living in a zoo. I don't know why. It was a pretty stupid dream.
"HOW DO YOU feel?" I asked Scoopy the next morning as we walked to school.
"Fine. Kinda tired. I need more gum."
"NO! Forget about the gum. It's evil."
Scoopy gave me a strange look. "What's wrong with it?"
"Do you feel sick at all? Do you feel like your insides are turning black and gooey?"
"No."
"Do you feel like your heart and stomach are trying to beat each other up?"
"No."
"Do you feel like your nose is about to fall off and take on a life of its own?"
"Yes, but I feel that way all the time." Scoopy looked worried. "What's wrong with the gum?"
"Oh, nothing," I said. "Gum itself is evil. Causes tooth decay. Forget I said anything."
IN THE MIDDLE of Mr. Stamper's lecture, Terry Drummond hiccuped.
This was not a big deal. People hiccup all the time. It's human nature. You've probably hiccuped once or twice in your life, too.
He continued hiccuping, earning lots of giggles, until Mr. Stamper excused him to go get a drink of water. A few minutes later he returned, still hiccuping. He did his best to cover it, but it was still very distracting, and I'm sure that only about three percent of Mr. Stamper's lecture was retained by anyone in the class.
WHEN I WALKED DOWN the hall toward my next class, somebody else was hiccuping. I didn't know him, but I thought he looked familiar, like one of the kids who'd received a free sample of McBugle Chew.
BY THE END of the day, everyone was talking about the twenty-five students who couldn't stop hiccuping. The principal thought it was all a big prank and threatened to give each of them detention if they didn't knock off that hiccuping right this m
inute, but none of them complied.
"What have you hiccup done to hiccup me?" asked Scoopy as we walked home.
"It's not my fault!" I insisted. "How could I have known? I'm not psychic! I'm not a chemist! There's no way I could predict that McBugle Chew was going to cause hiccups!"
"When hiccup are they going to hiccup go away?"
"I don't know, but, I mean, how long can hiccups possibly last?"
" Hiccup hiccup hiccup hiccup ," Scoopy replied.
YOU KNOW WHEN you're walking around at night and you can hear hundreds of crickets chirping? The next day, as I walked down the hallway listening to the constant background noise of hundreds of hiccups, I was reminded about how much I hate crickets.
Teachers tried to hold class, but when you've got that many kids hiccuping all at once, it's just not going to work. And there didn't seem to be any end to it. I could just imagine the upcoming newspaper headline:
Hiccups Claim The Lives of Over 100 Students; "That Darn Elrod!" Relatives Shout
Gym class was interesting, watching all the kids trying to do push-ups while hiccuping. Finally, the PA system crackled and I heard the announcement I'd been waiting for all day.
"Elrod McBugle, please report to the principal's office. Immediately."
I waved to the secretary as I entered. I could see Principal Botkin in his office waiting for me, looking stern. Mr. Clark was also there, and as I walked by his office I think I saw the comic I'd drawn hanging up on his wall. Another man was with them, wearing glasses so thick I'm surprised he could lift his head.
"Please sit down, Elrod," said the principal, gesturing to a chair. I sat down. "I understand you were selling a type of gum called McBugle Chew. Is this correct?"
