by Raymond Bean
All of a sudden, this went from being a silly science experiment idea to being something bigger. And I could see that Mr. M. was very excited.
“There’s more,” he said. “Franklin goes on to say:
“Let it be considered of how small importance to mankind, or to how small a part of mankind have been useful those discoveries in science that have heretofore made philosophers famous. Are there twenty men in Europe at this day, the happier, or even the easier, for any knowledge they have pick’d out of Aristotle? What comfort can the Vortices of Descartes give to a man who has whirlwinds in his bowels! The knowledge of Newton’s Mutual Attraction of the particles of matter, can it afford ease to him who is rack’d by their mutual repulsion…. Can it be compared with the ease and comfort every man living might feel seven times a day, by discharging freely the wind from his bowels? Especially if it be converted into a perfume…. And surely such a liberty of Expressing one’s scent-iments, and pleasing one another, is of infinitely more importance to human happiness than that liberty of the press…. And I cannot but conclude, that in comparison therewith, for universal and continual utility, the science of the philosophers above-mentioned…are all together, scarcely worth a FART-hing.”
After that, he laughed.
“I got a little bit of that,” I said. Of course, I had no idea what he had just said.
“What did you get?”
“I got that he thinks this invention of better-smelling gas is important.”
“More than important, he says that if someone can discover something to make the gas of people smell good, it would be the greatest discovery of all time. It would make most other discoveries seem worthless in comparison. He is saying that it would be the discovery of all discoveries!”
Now I was more than a little nervous; I was totally freaked out. I wasn’t just doing a science experiment anymore; I was trying to solve a great challenge created by Benjamin Franklin!
“I don’t think I can do it,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“This is all a little too much. I just wanted to do something familiar to me. I just wanted to fix something I thought was wrong with the world. I never expected it to turn into such a big deal.”
“Well, it has turned into a big deal. And you’re doing this experiment. I am officially assigning it to you. If you want to pass science this trimester, you are doing this experiment. This is your idea, and it’s a great one. You should feel proud that you came up with the same idea that Benjamin Franklin did over two hundred years ago. You owe it to yourself, you owe it to me, and you owe it to Benjamin Franklin to do this science experiment.
“Who knows?” he said, leaning in closer to me. “Maybe you’ll change the world.”
CHAPTER 13
Now What?
So now I had the approval of Mr. M., my principal; Mr. C., my teacher; and strangely, Benjamin Franklin, great American scientist. Things had become a lot bigger than I had bargained for. Now came the real work. I had to decide what exactly I was going to test to try and make gas smell good.
I really could not believe what Franklin wrote. It was as if we knew each other. I would have figured someone like him would have only had incredible ideas, like discovering electricity. How in the world could someone so smart think of something so silly? I have to admit, it made me feel smarter to know I shared an idea with a great thinker, a revolutionary thinker.
Imagine if I could make something that makes people’s gas smell like roses or cotton candy. Imagine if when you passed gas, you could do it out in public, and no one would think you were gross. Imagine if people actually complimented you on it…
“Nice fart, Keith. Can you make another one?”
It would be strange, but it would be an improvement. I decided the world was ready for new and improved farts.
Plus Mr. Cherub always said that even if a scientist is wrong, it’s okay. The goal of science is to build knowledge and try new things. This certainly would be a new idea.
I thought to myself, What smells really good? Roses do. People love the smell of roses. Maybe cotton candy? Popcorn would make a great scent. Bubble gum, cherries, oranges, anything at all would be better than what they smell like now. Heck, they could smell like cardboard, and that would be better.
The toughest part of the experiment would be smelling people’s farts in order to rate them. My whole life I had learned to run from farts, to get as far away as possible and not look back. Now I would have to go against everything my brain told me and stand my ground. I would have to smell my family’s farts. I would have to take it like a man, in the name of science.
I sat my family down before dinner on Friday night and explained what I was planning on doing. My mother immediately said that she thought it was a bad idea. My father agreed with her but he had that look on his face like he wanted so badly to laugh but knew he couldn’t. My sister just looked confused.
“I don’t understand,” my mom said. “How come you can’t just do a project on volcanoes or make a tornado in a bottle like you did last year?”
“Because, Mom, this is real science. Those other experiments were kid’s stuff. Besides, I’m trying to answer a challenge that Ben Franklin gave in 1781.”
“What are you talking about?” my dad asked.
“I came up with the idea, and my teacher said no, and then I was sent to the principal, and he seemed really mad. But then, later, he called me back to his office and told me I had to do it because Benjamin Franklin had challenged scientists to do this same thing back in 1781, and no one had ever accomplished the challenge or maybe they didn’t take it seriously but I am and…” I was rambling on and running out of breath.
“Wait a second!” my mom said. “Stop for just one second. Did you just say Benjamin Franklin had the idea to make gas smell good, too?”
“Yes.”
“And your principal told you this?”
“Yes.”
“And this letter was written by Benjamin Franklin?”
“Yes.”
“Ben Franklin who discovered electricity and eyeglasses and the stove?”
“Yes.”
“And he wants you to make farts smell good?”
“Well, yes.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious, Mom.”
“You expect me to believe that Ben Franklin wrote a letter about farting? And you want me to also believe that your principal is asking you to do a project on farts?”
My sister raised her hand. “Yes, Emma?” my mom said.
My sister smiled really big and said in a low voice, “We don’t say fawt in this house.”
My mother closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was getting very frustrated.
I said, “He isn’t asking anymore; he is telling me. He says I might be a great thinker.”
“He is telling you this might make you a great thinker?”
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Why do you keep repeating everything I say?”
“Why do I keep repeating everything you say?”
“You did it again.”
“I did it again? I did it again? I know I did it again. I keep repeating what you’re saying because I can’t believe what you are saying.”
The next few seconds passed by very slowly. My mom and I just stared at each other. My father took his laptop out of his bag on the floor near the table and fired it up.
“He’s telling the truth, Liz,” my father said a moment later, breaking the silence.
On the screen was a copy of Ben Franklin’s letter to the Royal Academy.
“That’s it,” I said.
My mom put her head in her hands and sighed. “The girls on the PTA are never going to let me live this one down.”
I grinned. “I’m going to go down in history, Mom. Just you watch.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she sighed.
CHAPTER 14
Trial Num
ber One
Later that night, I created a list of things I thought might help make farts smell better.
My List
Rose petals
Daisies
Perfume on your food
Spoonful of sugar
Cotton candy
Herbs
Lemon zest
Soap flakes
Pollen
Baking soda
Baby powder
Lemon/lime/orange juice combination
I decided to do my first trial that night. Why wait around and worry about it? I would need to make my family stick to a strict diet. The foods they ate could not change. That way, the only thing changing would be the ingredient I decided to give them. I had one month until the science fair. I decided to pick three things to test: rose petals, baking soda, and a lemon/lime/orange juice combination. I would give each one to them for a week to see if there was any improvement in their gas smell.
Later on I sat them all down to explain my idea. “I am not going to do this,” my mom began.
“But what about supporting your son?” I asked.
“There is something very important that you are forgetting, Keith,” she said.
“What is that, Mom?”
“You are forgetting that I do not pass gas. A lady never does.”
“Come on, Mom. You’re going to tell me that you never pass gas?”
“Now you are the one repeating things,” she said.
“Never once?”
“Never once,” she said. My dad laughed.
“Don’t you even say a word, Mr. Oops,” she said. “Keith, listen to me very carefully. I do not pass gas, and I will not participate in your little farting contest. I will support you and help you in any way I can, but I will not be a part of this experiment.”
“I want to be in a contest,” my sister said. “Can I win a prize?”
“Not really,” I said. “It’s not that kind of a contest, Emma. It’s not really a contest at all. I just want to see if I can make farts smell good.”
“We do not say fawts in this house,” my sister insisted. “We call them bubs. And bubs don’t smell good. They smell gwose,” she said scrunching up her face.
“I know. I’m trying to fix them so they smell good.”
“Your sister and I would be happy to help,” my dad said.
“Okay, good. The first thing we have to decide on is your diet. You are going to have to eat the same thing every day for a month. We can’t change your diet in any way because it could alter the experiment.”
“I want to eat cookies,” my sister said.
“Me, too,” my dad added.
“I don’t think so,” my mom replied. “I’ll make you guys chicken cutlets, rice, and a salad every night.”
“I don’t want salad and chicken. I want cookies,” my sister whined.
“You can’t eat only cookies for a month,” my mom said.
“I want cookies and ice cream then.”
“You are going to have chicken because it is good for you. You will also have rice and a salad. And if you eat all of those every night, I will make you cookies. Is that fair?”
“Okay, but I only want the cookies. I do not have to eat the chicken.”
“Emma, do you want to be in your brother’s experiment or not?”
“I do want toooo,” she begged.
“Okay, then you will eat what Mommy makes for you.”
“Awlwight,” she agreed.
I cleared my throat. “We will also have to include one other thing for you to eat. I’ll have you eat each item for a week, along with the rest of your diet. I’ll keep track of any improvements by following my rubric. For the first week, though, I will have you eat only what Mom makes you so I can get an accurate idea of how bad your bubs really are. We won’t add anything to your diet that might improve the smell of your gas until next week.”
“When would you like to start?” my dad asked.
“How about tonight?” I said.
After dinner, I went in my room to play video games. I had just sat down at the computer when my sister burst in.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“You’re ready for what?” I said.
“I’m ready to make a bub for you.”
“Okay,” I said. “Wait, don’t do it yet. Let me get my clipboard with my rubric.” As I went to get my clipboard, I started to feel a little sick. Was I really going to let my little sister fart and then smell it on purpose? I realized at that moment what Franklin was talking about when he said it would be the discovery of all discoveries. The person doing the experiment would have to smell farts until he found a cure. I quickly decided it was worth it to smell a lot of farts in a few weeks if that meant I would possibly never have to smell them again.
“Okay, let it rip,” I told my sister. I waited, holding my pencil and my clipboard, bracing myself for the worst. It was like waiting for someone to pinch you. I just wanted to run. But I didn’t, and she didn’t, either. We both just stared at each other for a few seconds.
“I can’t,” she said finally and put her head down.
“Why not?” I asked.
“I think I am afraid.” Then she started to cry. “Mommy, I can’t make a bubble. I can’t make a bubble,” she yelled and ran out of my room crying.
I sat there shaking my head, wondering what I had gotten myself into. I could have done a volcano, and I’d be done by now. I could have made a tornado in a bottle, and I would have been done in the time it takes to fill a two-liter soda bottle with water.
The next thing I knew, my dad appeared in my doorway.
“I am reporting for duty. And I am afraid you may be the next one to run out of here in tears.”
“Oh no…” I said.
“Oh no, indeed,” he said. “Oh no, indeed, son.”
CHAPTER 15
What Did You Tell Her?
Saturday morning I woke up and felt like I hadn’t slept at all. You know those days when you wake up having the same thoughts you had the night before? This was one of those mornings. I had fallen asleep thinking about my project, and now I was waking up thinking about my project. I couldn’t help it. Not only was the principal excited about what I was doing, but I was trying to live up to a challenge given by Benjamin Franklin over two hundred years ago and…then something struck me.
I realized that my house was quiet again. It was the same as last Saturday. I knew that my parents had to run to the hardware store to get paint for their room. I didn’t think they would have left without me. They never left me home alone. I looked at my clock, which I couldn’t see at all without my glasses. I felt around for my glasses on my nightstand. Once I got them on, I saw that it was already ten.
“Wow,” I said out loud, breaking the silence.
“Wow is right,” a voice shot back at me. It was Scott, and he was sitting at my desk, reading comics online.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised.
“What are you doing here is the real question,” he said. “We have a baseball game in twenty minutes and you’re sleeping the day away.”
“Well, I have a question for you,” I said. “Why were you just sitting there? Why didn’t you wake me up? Where’s my family?”
“That’s actually three questions. First, I was sitting here reading your notes from your science project. You happen to be very strange, you know. Second, I didn’t wake you up because I don’t have computer comics, and I am catching up. Third, your family left. They said you are too weird to be around now that you are a full-time fart sniffer.”
“Very funny. Where is everyone?” I said as I got together my baseball stuff.
“Your grandma is in the yard with Emma. She told me to come and wake you up. She was asking me a whole lot of questions about what is going on with you at school.”
“What do you mean? What did you tell her?”
“Nothing. I just told her that everyone in our school calls you S.B.
D. now.”
“What are you talking about? Why would you tell my grandmother that?”
“She gave me a whole bunch of cookies, and I was all pumped up on sugar. I just didn’t think, I guess,” he said as he read my online comics.
I went into the bathroom to get dressed for baseball. I stood there looking in the mirror for moment. What am I going to tell Grandma? What am I going to do on science-fair night when I have to present this project to the class? Then it hit me. My heart began to race. My palms got all sweaty. I took a deep breath. We were playing Anthony Papas’s team in baseball.
CHAPTER 16
Hear Ye! Hear Ye!
Baseball is usually the highlight of my week, especially when the weather is just right. And the weather was just right. I didn’t even need a jacket or a sweatshirt. I was crammed next to Scott and Emma in the backseat of Grandma’s car, staring out the window at the town passing by.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been having gas problems?” Grandma asked from the front seat.
“I haven’t been having gas problems,” I said, feeling my cheeks brighten up with embarrassment.
“It’s okay, sweets. It happens to all of us. The other day at the supermarket, I let one go waiting to check out. What can you do?”
“Mommy says a lady never makes bubs,” Emma chimed in.
“Your mom may be an exception. But as far as I know everyone makes bubs,” she said.
“What is a bub?” Scott asked.
“A fart,” my sister blurted out.
“Emma,” I said, “you know Mom doesn’t like that word.”
“What word?” Scott asked.
“Fart,” I said.
“Why?”
“She just doesn’t.”
“She must really love your science-fair project, then.”
“What is your science-fair project, Keith?” Grandma asked.
