by Dan Gutman
“Who writes poems about garbage?” whispered Ryan.
“That’s a dumb topic,” whispered Michael.
“What are we supposed to say about garbage?” whispered Neil.
“I don’t know,” whispered Emily. “We’ll come up with something.”
“Arlo, you need to come up with something,” whispered Andrea.
“Why me?” I whispered. “Why don’t you write a poem about garbage?”
“I don’t know how to write poems,” she whispered back. “That’s your job!”
“We’re running out of time!” whispered Alexia.
I tried to think of a poem about garbage. I was concentrating so hard that my brain hurt.
“I can’t think of anything!” I said.
“Time’s up!” shouted Dr. Carbles. “Okay, let’s hear the garbage poems. Dirk School, you go first.”
Tommy the nose picker went out to the middle of the stage holding his pad. He read his poem . . .
“Roses are red.
Pens are inky.
Perfume smells nice.
But garbage is stinky.”
Everybody clapped.
“Man, that poem was lame,” Ryan whispered to me. “You gotta be able to come up with something better than that, A.J.”
“Wonderful, Tommy!” said Dr. Carbles. “Okay, Ella Mentry School, let’s hear your garbage poem.”
Ryan and Michael pushed me out to the middle of the stage. Everybody was staring at me. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. I had to think fast.
“Okay, give me a beat, you guys,” I said.
Michael, Ryan, Neil, and Alexia started beatboxing.* Everybody started bobbing their heads to the beat. I closed my eyes. And then I started rapping. . . .
“Dirt and dust and junk and ash.
Now you know I’m talkin’ trash.
I know this may make you throw up,
but I think that when I grow up
I will have a secret plan
to be a well-paid garbageman.
“Other kids can be accountants.
I’ll live on a garbage mountain.
It may cost a million bucks,
but I’ll buy ten big garbage trucks
and drive around all day in haste
to pick up everybody’s waste.
“I think garbage is quite pretty,
especially piled up in the city.
You may think that it’s a handful
when they take it to the landfill.
But garbage makes me sing and jump,
especially at the garbage dump.
“I know that it will make you gag.
But I like to smell a garbage bag.
There are things that I can’t do,
like run real fast or cook a stew.
I can’t sing or drive a van.
But if I can’t do it, garbage can!
“I’d like to make one small proposal,
while I’m here at your disposal.
Let’s make Monday Garbage Day.
And Tuesday too. What do you say?
Wednesday, Thursday, Friday as well.
And Garbage Weekend would be swell.
“What would we do without Garbage Day?
We’d have nothing to throw away.”
By the end of my rap, everybody was clapping with the beat. Even the Dirk parents were into it. Dr. Carbles went over to the microphone.
“And the winner of round three is . . . Ella Mentry School!”
“You did it, A.J.!” Miss Brown shouted.
We were all shrieking and hooting and hollering and freaking out. Now the score was 210–100. We were winning, big!
It was the greatest moment of my life.
When we were done celebrating, those weight lifters carried a swimming pool out to the middle of the stage. Then they took a big hose and started squirting red stuff into the pool.
“Wow, where do you think they got a swimming pool?” Michael asked.
“From Rent-A-Swimming Pool,” I told him. “You can rent anything.”
“Round four of the Brain Games will be a surprise competition worth a hundred points,” announced Dr. Carbles. “Dirk School and Ella Mentry School will compete at Jiggly wrestling!”
WHAT?! They were filling the swimming pool with Jiggly gelatin? That’s crazy!
“I’m not doing that,” said Andrea. “No way!”
“Me neither!” said Emily, who won’t do anything Andrea won’t do.
“Wait a minute,” said Morgan Brocklebank. “We have to wrestle in Jiggly gelatin?”
“No,” replied Dr. Carbles. “Of course not. The principal of each school has to wrestle in Jiggly gelatin.”
I looked over at Mr. Klutz. Suddenly, he was wearing a bathing suit! He climbed up on the stage and we all cheered.
“What does Jiggly wrestling have to do with using your brain?” asked Andrea.
“The Jiggly gelatin company said they would only sponsor the Brain Games if someone from each school wrestled in a pool filled with Jiggly,” said Dr. Carbles. “Where is Mr. Wilson of Dirk School?”
Mr. Wilson climbed up onstage.
“I’m very sorry,” he said. “But I’m allergic to Jiggly gelatin. So I won’t be able to wrestle. Is there anybody who can take my place?”
All the grown-ups slinked down in their seats. That’s what you do when you don’t want to get called on.
“I will represent Dirk School!” shouted Dr. Carbles.
That’s when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened. Dr. Carbles took off all his clothes!
Well, he didn’t take off all his clothes. He was wearing a bathing suit. That was weird. He must have thought he was going to go swimming today.
Dr. Carbles and Mr. Klutz turned to face each other.
“You’re going to lose, Klutz!” said Dr. Carbles.
“I don’t think so, Walrus Face!” said Mr. Klutz.
“Oh, snap!” said Ryan.
I remembered that the two of them didn’t like each other. Back in high school, Mr. Klutz gave Dr. Carbles the nickname Walrus Face, and then everybody called him that.
As they climbed into the swimming pool, everybody started yelling and screaming. Well, everybody but Little Miss Perfect, of course.
“This is not a good example for children,” Andrea told Miss Brown. “I don’t like violence.”
“What do you have against violins?” I asked her.
“I think it’s a great idea,” said Miss Brown. “Anybody can wrestle on the floor. It takes creativity to wrestle in a swimming pool filled with Jiggly.”
A bell rang. Mr. Klutz and Dr. Carbles grabbed each other by the shoulders.
“Klutz! Klutz! Klutz!” we all chanted.
“Carbles! Carbles! Carbles!” chanted the Dirk crowd.
In seconds the two of them were covered with red Jiggly, flipping and flopping all over the pool. It was hilarious! We got to see it live and in person. You should have been there!
“You can do it, Mr. Klutz!” shouted Neil. “We need those hundred points!”
First it looked like Mr. Klutz was winning. Then it looked like Dr. Carbles was winning. Then it looked like Mr. Klutz was winning again. Then it looked like Dr. Carbles was winning again! It was a seesaw battle, even though there weren’t any seesaws around.*
Then Mr. Klutz pulled the toupee off Dr. Carbles’s head. That got him really mad. He picked Mr. Klutz up, held him over his head, and threw him down into the Jiggly.
“Glug glug!” shouted Mr. Klutz. “I give up!”
Dr. Carbles raised his arms in the air.
“In your face, Klutz!” he shouted.
The Dirk crowd went crazy. Now the score was 210–200. Anybody could win.
Dr. Carbles had red Jiggly dripping all over him. But he didn’t care. He climbed out of the swimming pool and went right over to the microphone.
“Teachers! Students! It’s time for the final round of the Brain G
ames,” he announced. “The car challenge!”
“Ooooooooh!” everybody oooohed.
It would all come down to this. The team that built the best car would win the Brain Games.
The weight lifters pushed the swimming pool out of the way. Then they set up a maze on the stage with walls that we would have to drive our car around. Miss Brown went behind the curtain and came back out with our car.
“We call it . . . the Death Machine!” she announced.
A few of the Dirk parents clapped politely.
Then the Dirk team went behind the curtain to get their car.
“Behold!” announced Morgan Brocklebank. “The Dirkmobile!”
What?! Their car was amazing! It was almost the size of a regular car, and it had real rubber tires, glass windows, and side-view mirrors.
“Oh, man!” said Michael. “Look at that!”
“There’s no way they built that car,” said Ryan.
“I bet their parents did all the work,” said Alexia. “It’s not fair.”
The audience was yelling and screaming and hooting and hollering.
“Nice car!” said Dr. Carbles. “And what do you use to power the Dirkmobile?”
“We built our own engine,” Morgan Brocklebank said into the mic. “It runs on methane.”
What?! Methane?
“And where did you get methane?” asked Dr. Carbles.
“From cow farts,” said Morgan Brocklebank. “This way, we keep harmful greenhouse gases out of the atmosphere.”
“That’s very green, and creative!” said Dr. Carbles. “Next, Ella Mentry School. What did you use to power your car?”
“A pencil sharpener,” I mumbled.
“Oh, man,” Ryan said. “We are finished.”
“Our car is going to crush your pathetic car,” said Morgan Brocklebank, “and the Dirkmobile is going to change the world.”
“You should call it the Fartmobile,” said Alexia.
“Oh, snap!” said Ryan.
It was our turn to go first. I would have to steer the Death Machine through the maze of walls and then drive it over the Bridge of Love.
“Are you ready?” asked Dr. Carbles.
“Yeah,” I said, even though I wasn’t really ready.
“You can do this, A.J.!” Miss Brown told me as she handed me the remote control.
I pushed the ON button. The car made a sound like a pencil sharpener and started moving forward. It was a few feet away from the first wall.
“Left, A.J., left!” everybody shouted.
It wasn’t easy, but I steered the Death Machine to the left. It was a few feet away from the next wall.
“Right, A.J., right!” everybody shouted.
I tried to steer the Death Machine to the right, but it wouldn’t turn. It seemed to go wherever it wanted to go.
“I can’t control it!” I shouted.
The Death Machine started moving back and forth really fast.
Then it started driving around in crazy circles!
Then it rammed into one of the walls!
The wall toppled over!
“Run for your lives!” yelled Neil.
The wall landed on top of the Dirkmobile!
“Oh no!” everybody shouted.
The Dirk team ran over to push the wall off their car. It looked like it was okay.
“That’s it,” groaned Michael. “The Death Machine didn’t make it over the Bridge of Love. We lose.”
It was Dirk’s turn. Since their bridge had been destroyed, Dr. Carbles said that all they needed to do was drive their car through the maze to win.
“Watch and learn from the masters,” Morgan Brocklebank told me as she picked up her remote control and pushed the ON button.
Nothing happened.
She fiddled with the remote.
“What’s the matter?” asked Dr. Carbles.
“The Dirkmobile won’t start,” she said. “It must have been damaged when that wall fell on it.”
“I’m sorry,” said Dr. Carbles, “but if your car won’t start, you lose this round; and the winner of the Brain Games is . . . Ella Mentry School!”
“Yay! We win!” We were all jumping up and down.
“That’s not fair!” shouted Morgan Brocklebank. “They cheated! A.J. ran his car into the wall on purpose!”
“I did not,” I said. “I have no control over the Death Machine.”
“You’re a liar!” she shouted.
At that moment, the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened. Morgan Brocklebank grabbed my remote control out of my hands and started pushing buttons. But she must have pushed the wrong button, because the rocket on the roof of the Death Machine fired!
It flew across the stage!
And it slammed right into the back of the Dirkmobile!
We all thought that was hilarious, until something even more amazing happened.
“What’s that smell?” asked Miss Brown.
“It smells like cow farts,” said Dr. Carbles, wrinkling up his nose.
“It’s methane!” shouted Morgan Brocklebank. “Your dumb rocket must have hit our fuel tank!”
“The Fartmobile could blow any second!” I shouted.
“Run for your lives!” shouted Neil.
Everybody was yelling and screaming and shrieking and hooting and hollering and freaking out as we ran out of the auditorium. Parents and kids were climbing all over each other to get out of there before the Fartmobile exploded. Somebody called 911, and by the time we got out on the street, the fire engines had arrived.
Luckily, Dirk School didn’t burn down, and nobody was hurt. As we waited for the bus to take us back to school, Miss Brown gathered us around her.
“Congratulations,” she said. “I told you we could win!”
“I’m really sorry about what happened with the Death Machine,” I said to her. “It was an accident.”
“Hey, anybody can build a car that runs on cow farts and drive it around a maze,” she replied. “It takes creativity to ram a pencil sharpener car into a wall and make the other team attack their own car with a rocket.”
Well, that’s pretty much what happened at the Brain Games. I can’t wait until we leave for our trip to PizzaWorld. Until then, maybe a truck full of lightbulbs will fall on Andrea’s head. Maybe Miss Brown will start walking on her feet like a normal person. Maybe the Death Machine will run over Emily again. Maybe they’ll start putting rocket launchers on car roofs. Maybe I’ll make up more garbage poems. Maybe Tommy will stop picking his nose. Maybe Mr. Klutz will stop calling Dr. Carbles Walrus Face. Maybe they’ll have seesaw wrestling at the Brain Games next year. Maybe those Dirk dorks will build a new Fartmobile.
But it won’t be easy!
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About the Author and Illustrator
DAN GUTMAN has written many weird books for kids. He lives in New York (a very weird place) with his weird wife and two weird children. You can visit him on his weird website at www.dangutman.com.
JIM PAILLOT lives in Arizona (another weird place) with his weird wife and two weird children. Isn’t that weird? You can visit him on his weird website at www.jimpaillot.com.
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Credits
Cover art © 2015 by Jim Paillot
Copyright
MY WEIRDEST SCHOOL #3: MISS BROWN IS UPSIDE DOWN! Text copyright © 2015 by Dan Gutman. Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Jim Paillot. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Gutman, Dan.
Miss Brown is upside down! / Dan Gutman ; pictures by Jim Paillot. — First edition.
pages cm. — (My weirdest school ; 3)
Summary: With guidance from Miss Brown, a teacher who is an expert on creativity, the third grade class at Ella Mentry School builds a car and a bridge to compete in a Brain Games competition against Dirk School.
ISBN 978-0-06-228427-3 (pbk.) — ISBN 978-0-06-228428-0 (library)
EPub Edition © September 2015 ISBN 9780062284297
[1. Schools—Fiction. 2. Teachers—Fiction. 3. Creative ability—Fiction. 4. Contests—Fiction. 5. Humorous stories.] I. Paillot, Jim, illustrator. II. Title.
PZ7.G9846Mjb 2015 2014041202
[Fic]—dc23 CIP
AC
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FIRST EDITION
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*Who decided we have to raise our hand before we can say anything? That makes no sense at all.