“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Texting an SOS to the Squad!” she said. “What else?”
The vines nipping at their heels, they raced out of the cornfield toward the farmhouse. Then a harsh voice shouted at them.
“Hey there! What’s all this racket?”
A scowling farmer emerged from the barn, holding two snarling hound dogs on leashes. The dogs strained to break free, snapping and barking. Foam sprayed from their jaws.
“You kids don’t belong here!” the farmer said, glaring at the intruders. “No trespassing!”
“Help!” Darren shouted. “We’re being invaded by Stink Weeds from outer space!”
Oddly, the old farmer did not immediately believe Darren. He didn’t budge from where he stood, blocking the kids’ escape. The dogs snarled and drooled.
“Don’t be smart with me, boy! Crazy kids and their pranks!”
“But you have to believe me!” Darren said. “They’re right behind us!”
“I’m not falling for your tricks . . . !”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Tina said. “We don’t have time for this.”
A stealth fart rustled her uniform. The farmer’s eyes rolled backward and he keeled over into a pile of hay. The dogs whimpered briefly and passed out a moment later.
“Pleasant dreams,” Tina said sweetly.
But before they could start running, the Stink Weeds came slithering out of the cornrows. Stinging vines grabbed Darren and Tina. Thorns snagged their clothes and skin.
“Hold on to them at all costs!” Doctor Thorn ordered the other Weeds. “We still need them—and their precious burritos!”
So much for our great escape, Darren thought. The Weeds have got us again!
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Take them back to the ship,” Doctor Thorn ordered. “The mammals failed to permanently disable our engines. Prepare to activate the backup fertilizers!”
Caught by the vines, Darren squirmed uncomfortably. Was it just his imagination or were the thorns even sharper than before?
“It’s not fair,” Tina complained. “We almost got away.”
“At least they haven’t gotten the burritos yet,” Darren said. “That’s something, I guess.”
The Stink Weeds began to drag the kids back toward the cornfield. Darren was trying to figure out what to do next when a familiar voice shouted from above.
“Chill out, everyone!” Juan-Carlos yelled. “Here we come!”
Darren looked up in surprise. The rest of the Fart Squad was flying to the rescue, propelled by Walter’s fart-powered jets. Juan-Carlos perched on his flying friend’s shoulders, while Walter seemed to be using the GPS on his phone to track down the location of Tina’s phone.
“Watch out!” Darren shouted at his friends. “They’re after you and Walter . . . and the burritos!”
“Silence!” Doctor Thorn reeked. “Order your friends to surrender at once!”
No way, Darren tooted. My Squad never gives up. Just like farts, you can’t keep us bottled up forever!
He just hoped his friends knew what they were doing.
Walter dropped Juan-Carlos off in front of the barn, just out of reach of the aliens’ vines. Juan-Carlos looked a bit spooked, but tried to talk tough.
“Listen up. Let go of our friends and this doesn’t have to get, well, uglier than you are.” He gave Darren and Tina a puzzled look. “Hey, why are you wearing aluminum underwear?”
“Never mind that!” Darren shouted. “These Weeds are trouble. They want to kidnap us all and take us back to their home planet!”
“Seize the foolish human!” Doctor Thorn said, although Darren realized that only he and Tina could understand the Weeds.
Jaws snapping, a couple of Stink Weeds charged at Juan-Carlos. Darren fought to free himself, but could only watch helplessly as the mutated aliens went after his friend. If only he could use his fart abilities without making the Weeds even stronger . . . !
“Uh-uh,” Juan-Carlos said, scrambling backward. “We’re ready for you this time!” He hollered up at Walter. “Whack those weeds!”
“Acknowledged,” Walter said. “Providing air support now!”
Tooting through the sky, he performed a loop-the-loop high above the farm. Darren noticed for the first time that Walter had a pair of Super Soaker squirt guns strapped to his back. Walter reached around and took hold of the squirters.
“What the heck?” Darren wondered aloud.
He watched hopefully as Walter swooped down over the charging Stink Weeds like a very pudgy crop duster, squirting them with something that made them wilt and turn brown around the edges. The startled Weeds shrank back in fear, losing their grip on Darren and Tina, who broke away from the twitching vines and ran to join Juan-Carlos. Frantic smells sounded like shrieks in Darren’s nose, overpowering the peculiar smell of the spray, which he couldn’t quite place.
“Way to go!” Juan-Carlos said, cheering Walter on. “Keep it coming!”
Darren’s hopes began to rise. “What’s he spraying them with?”
“Weed killer, of course,” Juan-Carlos replied. “My dad’s secret recipe. One half vinegar, one half dish soap. Works every time.”
Of course, Darren thought. What else would you use against weeds?
Pollen sprayed from the Weeds as they tried to bring Walter down, but he was too high up. Darren worried briefly about the unconscious farmer and his dogs, but figured they were safe enough where they were. The Weeds were after the Fart Squad right now, not some random farmer.
Lucky us, he thought.
Darren grabbed a pitchfork from a nearby haystack. The Weeds were obviously not giving up. Although slightly wilted, they sank their roots into the rich soil of Earth, refusing to retreat.
“Don’t surrender!” Doctor Thorn ordered his crew. The weed killer was holding them back for the moment, keeping them confined to the cornfield, but it was only slowing them down. “We’re Weeds. Nothing can stop us from spreading!”
And then Walter’s squirt guns ran dry. . . .
The twin sprays dwindled to trickles. One last squirt emptied Walter’s supply. He was all out of weed killer—and the Stink Weeds were still standing.
Juan-Carlos gulped. “Er, does anybody have a Plan B?”
“I wish!” Darren said.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“We will have our revenge,” Doctor Thorn vowed, uprooting himself from the ground. A furious stench radiated from his wilted brown petals. Walter’s amateur crop-dusting had not improved the Weeds’ mood any. They lurched after the kids, chasing them across the farm. “You will all pay for your paltry attempts to poison us!”
“Now what?” Juan-Carlos asked, running beside Darren and Tina.
“I don’t know!” Darren turned to fend off grasping vines with his borrowed pitchfork. These alien Weeds were even more stubborn than the ones in his mom’s garden. “But running away isn’t enough. If we can’t stop them here, they’ll infest the whole planet!”
An idea hit him.
He recalled how the Star Flowers had detected the Fart Squad from all the way out in space, as well as how Doctor Thorn had tried to hide his crew’s transformation from his fellow aliens. Maybe he could use his translator shorts to send an urgent warning to the Botanican mother ship, alerting them to Doctor Thorn’s nefarious plan to turn their entire species into Stink Weeds.
“Juan-Carlos!” Darren asked. “Do you have any burritos on you?”
“You bet!” Juan-Carlos lobbed a squashed foil package to Darren, who caught it one-handed. “Figured you guys might need to refuel.”
Darren quickly unwrapped the burrito. It was cold and greasy and unappetizing, but now was no time to be picky. He needed to stuff his stomach with gas if he was going to pull off what he had planned. This couldn’t be just any fart. It had to be a fart that could be smelled from space!
“Seize the specimens!” Doctor Thorn smelled loudly. “And do not be gentle about it!”
The Stink Weeds were getting faster and stronger as the effect of the weed killer wore off. Tina scrambled behind the parked hay baler to get away from an angry Weed, while Juan-Carlos knocked over a large, cylindrical bale of hay to buy Darren some time. Walter hurled his empty water guns at the Weeds from above.
“If you’re going to do something, Darren,” Juan-Carlos said, “you’d better do it quick!”
Darren had to agree. He crammed the revolting burrito into his mouth and practically swallowed it whole. Gooshy beans and spicy sauce hit his stomach like gasoline on a fire. His gut churned volcanically, the pressure instantly building up inside him, demanding release. He struggled to hold it in while dialing the volume on his translator shorts as high as it would go. His lips quietly mouthed a warning as he farted urgently:
A fart to end all farts went off in his shorts, testing the limits of the alien underwear. His butt burning, Darren could only hope that, somewhere out in space, his message would be received.
If not, Earth’s future would be full of weeds!
CHAPTER NINE
Darren’s emergency fart did not go unnoticed by the Stink Weeds.
“No!” Doctor Thorn smelled in dismay. “If those Goody Two-shoes Flowers find out about us before we’re ready—”
A sonic boom shook the sky, followed by the overpowering smell of fertilizer. A bright white glare lit up the isolated farm—as a humongous UFO arrived at the speed of smell.
The gigantic F.A.R.T.S. was at least ten times bigger than the Stink Weeds’ crashed scout ship. It hovered hundreds of feet above the cornfields. An intensely floral perfume gushed from the UFO’s loudsmellers.
“Attention: Mutant Plants! Prepare for General Decontamination Wash.”
“Never!” Doctor Thorn stank defiantly! He shook his thorny vines at the ship. “We’re Weeds now. We don’t want to be cured!”
“Your thought processes have clearly been impaired,” the mother ship responded. “Remain still and allow yourself to be scanned so that we can isolate the cause of your mutation.”
But the Stink Weeds refused to cooperate. “Retreat!” Doctor Thorn ordered. “Back to the ship! We can still escape from those irksome Flowers—and stay Weeds forever!”
The Weeds slithered frantically back toward their own UFO, seeking refuge from the Star Flowers and a means of escape. Darren realized that he couldn’t let them get away. He knew from his mom’s garden just how hard it was to get rid of weeds for good.
The other Star Flowers can’t do this alone, he thought. It’s up to me to deal with these weeds, once and for all!
He hopped into the seat of the mechanized hay baler and fired up its engines. “Out of the way!” he shouted at his friends as he hit the gas and chased after the fleeing Weeds. As he suspected, the Weeds were weakened by the weed killer and could not outrun the speeding piece of farm equipment. “Time to wrap this up, in more ways than one!”
“No!” Doctor Thorn smelled in alarm. “Halt your infernal contraption! We must get away from those Flowers—before they turn us back into what we were!”
“Sounds like a pretty good idea to me,” Darren said.
He bounced atop the baler as it ran over the Weeds, scooping them up into the baling mechanism, which rolled them into tight, leafy tubes wrapped in twine. One by one, the baled Weeds were pooped out the back of the baler, landing with a thud on the ground.
“Wretched meat-monsters!” Doctor Thorn rolled across the farm, his bound vines packed into the shape of the bale. “Release us!”
Not a chance, Darren tooted. We’ve finally got you Weeds under control.
He called to the rest of the Squad, who helped him roll the captured Weeds back under the hovering mother ship.
Over to you, he farted.
“Thank you, mammals,” the Star Flowers responded. “Decontamination procedures can now commence.”
“Stop!” Doctor Thorn protested. “Don’t do this to us!”
The Weeds twisted and strained, but, bound in bales, their vines were tied. A bright golden beam from the UFO scanned them for a minute or two, while Darren and his Squad crossed their fingers that the other aliens would be able to fix the Weeds. Sprinklers protruded from the bottom of the ship.
“Commencing Decontamination.”
The sprinklers activated. A sudsy wash, which smelled like lemons, drenched the Weeds, who began to change once more. The spray washed away the jagged petals and thorns and turned the plants’ stems supple and green again. The snapping jaws closed, while fresh yellow petals bloomed in the glow of the hovering mother ship. Doctor Thorn threw up his shrinking vines to protect himself, but it was no use. The Decontamination spray seemed to reverse the mutation caused by the original farts. Within minutes, the Stink Weeds were gone, replaced by a half dozen beautiful Star Flowers.
“Much better!” Tina nodded in approval. “I was really getting tired of those hideous weeds.”
“You and me both,” Darren said, but he wished for another burrito as the tallest of the Star Flowers glided toward him. After that big, long-distance fart, he wasn’t sure he had another one in him. “Doctor Thorn?”
“Call me Professor Blossom,” the transformed alien scented. He smelled like perfume now instead of stinking like a weed. “Doctor Thorn seems a bad dream now.”
“You can understand me? I don’t have to fart-speak anymore.”
“Now that I’m no longer a weed, there’s no need. Let me offer my most sincere apologies for our terrible behavior before.”
“No harm done,” Darren said, choosing to overlook an abduction and attempted invasion. He held out his hand again. “Perhaps we can start over?”
As far as he knew, there weren’t any more stink bombs waiting to go off.
“I’m afraid not,” Professor Blossom said, dipping his petals sadly. “Your planet is obviously too hazardous to our kind. From now on, we will keep our distance from Earth, so that the Stink Weeds will never return.”
Juan-Carlos shrugged. “I can live with that. Considering.”
“I concur,” Walter said. “Better safe than sorry.”
The Fart Squad watched as the restored Star Flowers boarded the mother ship, which hooked a tow chain to the crashed UFO before taking off back into the sky. Darren craned his neck, following the rising ship until it vanished into the clouds. All that was left behind was scattering of loose petals and thorns.
“Good-bye and good riddance,” Walter said. “That’s one way to dispose of unsightly and invasive flora.”
Juan-Carlos sighed in relief. “I’m just glad they’re leaving without us.”
“But I was right all along,” Darren couldn’t resist pointing out. “There really was an Unidentified Farting Object.” He smirked at Tina. “I think somebody owes me an—”
He toppled over in midsentence, landing flat on his back.
“I’m sorry,” Tina said. “Were you saying something?”
The sun was already setting by the time Darren made it back home. He was going to be late for dinner, but not as late as he would have been if the Stink Weeds had gotten their way.
Good thing I’m not halfway across the galaxy by now!
At the last minute, he remembered to peel off the translator shorts and chuck them in the recycling bin before heading inside. Even still, his mom took one look at his scratched face and dirty clothes and gasped out loud.
“Darren! What on earth have you been up to now?”
“Nothing much,” he answered. “Just a little weeding.”
THE END
Excerpt from Fart Squad #4: The Toilet Vortex
Read a Sneak Peek of Book Four,
Fart Squad: The Toilet Vortex
CHAPTER ONE
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Darren Stonkadopolis groaned as he backed away from the toilet.
Janitor Stan leaned over his shoulder to get a better look at the offending specimen. “Oh, you’re fine,” he said. “Happens all the time.” And
with the push of one finger, Stan flushed that toilet good.
Stan was the only human being whom Darren and his friends trusted to keep their identity as the elusive superhero team, the Fart Squad, a secret. He also doubled as their coach, or scent-sei. Cleaning up toilets after school wasn’t exactly how Darren would have chosen to demonstrate his gratitude. But when Stan asked Darren for help with a running toilet, Darren just couldn’t say no.
“Okay,” Stan declared to the otherwise empty bathroom, “which one of you won’t shut up?” He eyed the row of toilets before pointing to the far end. “Aha, gotcha!” he announced.
Darren followed the janitor to the last stall. “No water on the floor,” Stan said as they stopped in front of it. “That’s good.” He pushed the stall door open, and Darren shivered. Suddenly it was really, really cold.
Stan grabbed the toilet handle and tried jiggling it. The water kept running, forming a swirling vortex in the center of the bowl. He lifted the lid off the toilet’s tank and peered inside. “Everything looks okay,” he told Darren, “but sometimes something gets knocked loose.” The janitor reached inside the toilet’s tank and fiddled with a valve, but the water kept on running.
“Nothing there,” Stan said, pulling his arm from the tank and drying it on a rag from his back pocket. “Could be something clogging the actual toilet pipe, I guess. What’s weird is the toilets up here have been doing this all week—every time I get one to stop, another starts acting up.” He studied the toilet bowl and the water swirling down into it before finally sticking his hand in there.
“There’s definitely suction,” he reported. “A whole lot of it, actually. In fact”—his shoulder twitched and wrenched, but his hand was still in the toilet—“I think I’m stuck!”
Fart Squad #3 Page 3