by Raymond Bean
She took a picture with all of us before leaving. As we walked down the hallway toward the street, we passed Helen Winifred’s dressing room. I noticed that Grandma was hanging far back from the rest of us. And as we passed Helen’s dressing room, she ducked in for a moment. When we got in the car, Grandma sat next to me. “I am so proud of you, Keith. You were such a gentleman in there. I think you should feel pretty great about yourself right now.”
“Thanks, Grandma. I noticed you snuck into Helen’s dressing room on the way out. What was that all about?”
“Oh, I just wanted to drop a little thank-you on her desk, that’s all.”
CHAPTER 29
In the End
That night we all went to the lab. We ordered a bunch of pizzas and just hung out. Scott and Anthony were playing basketball in their fancy clothes. Mr. Gonzalez and Mr. Carson were talking at a table and having a cup of coffee. Emma was asleep on one of the couches. And Grandma was in the kitchen doing something.
I was sitting on the couch across from Emma. Mom was seated on one side of me, and Dad was on the other.
“You handled yourself really well today, Keith,” Mom said.
“Yeah, I have to give you credit, son. You’ve dealt with a lot over the past few months. I don’t know that I could have done it.”
“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it.”
“No problem, son,” he said. Then dad leaned to his left side and let one go—it was the loudest and longest fart I have ever heard. It went on and on, and got louder and louder. Just when I thought it was going to end, it kept going for what seemed an eternity. Emma woke from her sleep in terror, Anthony and Scott stopped in their tracks, and Mr. Gonzalez and Mr. Carson both looked stunned. When it finally stopped, the room was completely silent. Dad looked as proud as a peacock and announced, “I give you The Amplifier, ladies and gentlemen.” He stood up and took a bow.
“Awesome!” Anthony shouted from the basketball court.
“Honey, that is wrong on so many levels,” Mom said as she scrambled to the other side of the room. “That is what you have been spending all your spare time on the past few months?”
“I want an Amplifier,” Emma pouted.
“Maybe for your birthday, sweetie,” my dad said, amused.
Just then Grandma walked in as if nothing had happened. She set a box she had been holding down on one of the tables and started taking out green and orange squares and stacking them on the table.
“Grandma, you didn’t!” I exclaimed.
“Oh, yes I did, Goozer, my boy. Oh, yes I did!”
Sitting there on the couch, sandwiched between my mother and my father, taking a bite out of my first square pear, I realized two things. First, I loved square pears.
“Awesome, Grandma!” I said. She just winked as she peeled a square orange.
Second, the same people who had been frustrating me for the past two months were the same people I was most thankful for at that moment. Sure, Scott and Anthony made me crazy and gave me a hard time, but I don’t know what I would do without them. They are ridiculous, but everyone needs a little ridiculous in his life.
Grandma is in her own world, there’s no denying that, but she is so supportive of me. It doesn’t matter what I am doing or thinking, she thinks it’s the best. I’m lucky to have her.
In terms of Emma, she’s still just a baby. If anything, I owe her an apology for creating all this Sweet Farts craziness when she was so young. I was pretty much responsible for turning her into a fart monster. I can only hope that as we grow older, she will learn to use the lab for something she loves.
And my parents, well, my parents are the best. Do they drive me crazy sometimes? Sure! Do they give me a hard time? You bet. But, at the end of the day, they want me to do well, and they’re on my side, no matter what happens. Seriously, how many moms would allow their kid to experiment with farts?
In the end, the only one of us who didn’t make some sort of great invention this year was me. Oh, and Scott.
Grandma’s square fruit ended up taking supermarkets across the country by storm, especially after they were featured on The Helen Winifred Show. It turns out that the thank-you Grandma left on Helen’s desk was a square pear and her cell phone number.
Anthony put in a private swimming pool at the lab, which, as far as I can tell, he uses strictly for cannonballs. Surprisingly, he also donated 20 percent of his money to the charity of my choice. Honestly, I was shocked that Anthony was capable of such kindness. The more I get to know that guy, the more surprising he becomes. They say never judge a book by its cover, and Anthony proves it. Who would have thought that gasbag would turn out to be a math genius?
It turns out he’s pretty amazing on the computer, as well. He created the company Web site, www.sweetfartsinc.com, so the kids at school will stop bugging us about what projects we are working on. Thanks to Anthony, we just post updates on the Web when we are working on something new.
And, as if that isn’t enough, he helped the lotto people understand the patterns he found. They decided to add letters to the lottery drawings, as well as the numbers. Anthony figured it would make it more difficult for people to find patterns, as he had been able to do.
Emma continues to eat well, even though I haven’t found a way to change liver to candy canes. Every day she reminds me that we have a deal, and every day I go to the lab and try my best to make good on my promise.
It’s kind of amazing to think how much Sweet Farts, Inc., has accomplished in just a couple years. We were even featured in a national science magazine as the most unexpected scientific company of the year. I guess a company like ours is pretty unique.
I remember thinking that I was the only one who had a clue in this group of misfits. In the end, the only one without a clue was me. I thought my company was made up of a bunch of lemons, but when I put those lemons together, I got lemonade. The saying still holds true: if life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Lemons and lemonade, my friends, lemons and lemonade.
About the Author
Raymond Bean is the Amazon best-selling author of the Sweet Farts series. Writing for kids who claim they don’t like reading, his books have ranked #1 in children’s humor, humorous series, and fantasy and adventure genres, and the Sweet Farts series is consistently in Amazon’s top 100 books for children. His second book, Sweet Farts #2: Rippin' It Old School, was Amazon Publishing’s very first children’s release. Foreign editions of his books have been released in Germany and Korea, and editions for Italy, Brazil, and Turkey are forthcoming.
Sneak Peek of next book in the Sweet Farts series:
CHAPTER 1
I’m Keith Emerson, and I Just Farted!
I finished the last bite of my very first square apple and threw it into the woods.
“Wow, that was delicious,” I shouted to Scott.
I was sitting in the dugout of the Sweet Farts, Incorporated, private baseball field. Scott was out at third base fielding balls from the new practice machine we created. We had taken a pitching machine and changed it around a bit so it shot ground balls, line drives, and pop-ups to the person in the field. It also turned to the left and the right so you never knew which way the ball was going to come at you. It was pretty awesome. Scott and I had sent the idea to the Yankees in hopes that they would order a few for their infield practice. They didn’t.
“What?” Scott shouted as he dove for a line drive.
I walked out onto the field and shut off the machine. Scott was lying on the ground with infield dirt all over him.
“I said, those square apples are delicious. Have you had one yet?”
“Yeah, your grandma gave me one yesterday when I was working in my lab. They’re awesome. I still can’t understand why she gave that whole idea away.”
“She didn’t give it away; she’s just donating the profits. She decided that the money her Square Fruit business was making was better spent on people who really needed it. She has it set up where the money goes to
like five or six different charities.”
“That’s really nice and all, but she could have kept just a little, or I don’t know,” Scott smiled, “given it to me.”
“That’s my grandma. She’s always thinking of everyone else. I think it’s pretty cool. You know a lot of the money that Sweet Farts makes goes to charity, too?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Scott said from the ground. “I know. You’re a good boy, Keith. What I’d like to know is how I can become one of your charities. I could use a little more coin in my bank account.”
“You kind of already are one of my charities.”
“That hurts, Keith. That really hurts. You know, after my last experiment, I’m a little worried that Mr. Gonzalez is getting tired of me working at the lab.”
Scott was right to be worried. His last experiment didn’t exactly blow Mr. Gonzalez away. We were given several months to work on an idea for the fall science fair, but Scott had waited until the last minute. The morning of the fair, he had simply filled a two-liter soda bottle with colored water, and then taped another soda bottle to the top so the openings touched. It was the classic last-minute science fair project: tornado in a bottle.
“Here comes Mr. Gonzalez now. Let’s ask him how he feels about you.”
“Don’t!”
Mr. Gonzalez was walking toward us. It was kind of funny seeing him out on the ball field in a suit. He usually stayed in the lab.
“Don’t say a word,” Scott said. “I don’t think he’s forgiven me for the tornado in a bottle.” Scott rushed to his feet and wiped the dust from his clothes.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Mr. Gonzalez said. “I am very happy to see that you are both enjoying this wonderful day while the rest of us work in the lab. You two have to meet with Mr. Stuart in the development lab in about fifteen minutes. He needs to know what new Sweet Farts scents you will be putting out this summer. The tablets are selling well, but people are getting tired of the same old scents. We have too many obvious fruit and flower scents, like Tangerine, Grape, Pickles, and Summer Rose. Let’s try to think up something more interesting.”
My phone buzzed. It was another video message from Anthony. For his last science project he’d figured out a number pattern that allowed him to predict and win the lottery. His mom bought the winning ticket using the numbers he chose, and his family left for a trip around the world with all the money they had won. He had been sending me messages pretty much every day since they left. I shook my head and put my phone back in my pocket.
“Who was that?” Mr. Gonzalez asked.
“Let me guess,” Scott said.
“Yep,” I said, “that’s why I didn’t answer it.”
“Who was it?” Mr. Gonzalez asked again.
“It’s Anthony. He’s been driving me nuts ever since he left on his trip.”
“But he’s been out of the country for months,” Mr. Gonzalez said.
“He’s been sending me messages from people he’s met on his trip. They’re basically teasing me in other languages. He’s also doing ridiculous things and saying he’s me. He sent a video the other day that I couldn’t believe.”
“What was he doing?” Scott asked.
“Don’t ask me how he did it,” I said, “but somehow he had a mask of my face made. The video showed him wearing the mask in what looked like some kind of fancy museum. There were people everywhere, and the place was dead quiet. He ripped one so loud that everyone around him turned and shot him The Look.
“At that moment he put his hands over his eyes and ran out shouting, ‘I’m sorry I farted; my name is Keith Emerson.’”
Mr. Gonzalez chuckled a little. “I’ll give it to the kid. He’s creative.”
Scott was amused, too, but didn’t dare say anything with Mr. Gonzalez standing there.
“He’s driving me crazy,” I said. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you about him. I was hoping some time apart would help, but even with an ocean between us, he manages to pick on me constantly.”
“Keith, we’ve talked about this before. Anthony has trouble showing people he cares about them in an appropriate way. It will get better over time.”
“I don’t think so, and I’m not interested in ‘things getting better over time.’ I want to kick him out of the company when he gets back from his trip.”
“Really?” Scott asked. “I was just kidding when I said I wanted some of your money, Keith. Please don’t fire me!” He put his hands together like he was praying.
“You’re my best friend. I’m not going to fire you. I do want to fire Anthony, though,” I said.
“I understand that Anthony is a handful, but he has a place in this company. He’s very smart when he takes things seriously. Sometimes we learn the most from the people who challenge us. If I allowed myself to avoid every difficult personality I met, I would never have accomplished all of the things I have in my life. Besides, if you recall, you are the one who hired him in the first place,” Mr. Gonzalez replied.
“I know, but that was a mistake. The only thing I’m learning from Anthony is how to be mean.”
“Maybe you need to learn to stand up for yourself better,” Mr. Gonzales suggested.
“I do stand up for myself,” I insisted.
“Like I said, maybe you need to learn how to do it better. Now, I need you two sluggers to clean up and go meet Mr. Stuart about those new scents.” He flashed me a smile and started to turn away.
“But, Mr. Gonzalez, I thought you put me in charge of Sweet Farts. If the company is mine, how come I can’t fire Anthony?”
He turned back to face me again, “Sorry, Keith. I make the final decisions around here. Sweet Farts is your company, but it’s part of my laboratory. I’ve said it before: in many ways, you guys are my own experiment.”
CHAPTER 2
I Want Boogers
“We can’t make farts smell like salami, Emma,” I said, laughing. We had been at the development lab for a couple of hours, and we were getting a little crazy. We were supposed to have figured out what the new Sweet Farts scents were going to be days before. Mr. Stuart, the scientist assigned to help us, was not pleased. Grandma checked her watch for the second time and then searched her purse for her car keys.
Emma and Scott had the giggles. And when Emma gets the giggles, it makes everyone around her start laughing, too.
“Okay,” she said, trying to catch her breath, “how about pastrami?” She struggled to hold back her laughter and look serious at the same time. “Or BOOGERS!”
This made me laugh harder than before, and Scott was cracking up so bad he seemed to have stopped breathing. After a big breath, he squeaked out, “Boogers don’t have a smell.”
“Okay, Emm,” Grandma finally said, taking her keys from her purse. “I think that’s enough work…and junk food for one day. We can talk about your interesting ideas on our way home. What do you say?”
“No way! More candy is the right thing, Grandma,” Emma argued, again trying to sound serious.
“It’s time to go, Sugar Pie. I think you’ve done enough for one day.”
For most of the meeting, Emma had insisted on naming only lunchmeats as new scents for Sweet Farts. She’d suggested Roast Beef (but wanted to call it Roast the Beast), Olive Loaf, Smoked Turkey, Pastrami, Salami, and a bunch more. Basically, she named everything she could remember from the deli counter. At one point she suggested that one of the new scents should be Ham.
Scott’s ideas were just as random and even more ridiculous. He came up with names like Slap Shot, Grand Slam, and Three Pointer. I kept explaining to him that those were sports terms and didn’t have a smell. Neither of them seemed to get it. After Emma suggested Boogers as a scent, Scott had followed it up with Field Goal. I shook my head in disbelief and looked to my grandma for some help.
“I like them all,” she said, giving me a smirk and jingling her keys playfully in Emma’s direction. Grandma had a way of never getting worked up.
“Grandma, help
me out here. We haven’t come up with a single scent that is actually possible to use for Sweet Farts,” I pleaded. I could feel Mr. Stuart glaring at me from across the table.
Emma stood up. “BOOGERS! BOOGERS! I INSIST ON BOOGERS!” She was out of her mind on sugar. She had eaten cotton candy and three donuts just since the beginning of the meeting. Mom and Dad were so happy that Emma was eating at all that they let her eat pretty much whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it.
Emma’s refusal to eat was the inspiration for my last science-fair project. Since then, though, she has been much better about eating all different kinds of foods, even some healthy ones.
Mr. Stuart finally lost his patience. “Keith, we’ve been in here half the day. You guys only need to come up with four scents. What are they going to be?”
I tapped my fingers nervously on the table. It was like everything else at the lab, all fun and games for the other kids, but I was the one who had to be mature.
“Keith?” Mr. Stuart asked again.
Grandma took Emma by the hand and headed for the door. Emma grabbed a fourth donut on the way out, but Grandma put it back. “We’ll meet you in the car, boys,” Grandma said, licking the icing off her thumb.
“We’re going to have to get back to you, Mr. Stuart,” I said, standing up. “I’ll have the names of the new scents to you as soon as I can. Things are just a little crazy right now.”
Scott looked at me and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. We had been given weeks to think of the new scents. With Anthony away, we’d had the place to ourselves. We didn’t have a science project due for the first time since moving into the lab. Without a deadline, I’d finally been able to enjoy how fun the lab actually was. We played basketball and baseball, swam in the indoor pool, played video games, and just hung out. If we weren’t in school, we were in the lab. It was paradise.