Calling All Birdbrains

by R. L. Stine

  Did the bird’s luck run out? Could it happen?

  Did my buddies Feenman and Crench ruin Lippy when they rubbed him bald? Did they rub away all the good luck?

  No way. No way. No way.

  I had to give the bird one more try. One more chance to bring Bernie B. some luck…

  “Uh…Jen, I’m sorry,” I said. “But I can’t be your partner. I’m in the Club.”

  She blinked. “What club?”

  “You know,” I said. “The Club. Very sorry. But you know how it is. The Club comes first.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Jennifer replied. She grabbed my arm and started to bend it up behind my back.

  “You snapped my arm!” I cried. “You SNAPPED it!”

  “Honey Breath, I guess that means you’re out of the Club now,” Jennifer said. She had a big, drooly grin on her face. “So now you can be my partner at the Competition.”

  I staggered away, holding my arm gently, very gently.

  I stumbled toward the dorm, gaaaacking all the way.

  Jennifer didn’t buy my Club story for a second. I could tell by the way she snapped my arm.

  Is Lucky Lippy Bad-Luck Lippy now? I wondered.

  I pulled the bird off my shoulder and held him in front of me. “Lippy, tell me you’re still lucky. Please—show me. Show me you’re still my good-luck charm.”

  The bird burped up something green and pasty onto my shirt.

  I turned and saw April-May June jogging over the grass. April-May is the coolest, hottest girl at Rotten School. She’s my girlfriend, only she doesn’t know it yet.

  “April-May! Wait up!” I shouted.

  She’s so shy. She started to run faster.

  “Wait up!” I shouted. I set Lippy on my shoulder and started to run.

  “WHOOOOA!” I let out a cry as I tripped over something.

  A garden rake!

  I went down hard—and smacked my face in the dirt.

  Shaking off the pain, I sat up.

  “Oh, nooo,” I moaned.

  My glasses were broken.

  Chapter 7

  GET OUT THE MOP

  April-May stood over me. Her blond ponytail waved in the breeze. She gazed down with laughing blue eyes. “Ha-ha. Do that again!” she said.

  “I did it on purpose,” I said. “Just to give you a laugh. I always like to start the day with a laugh—don’t you?”

  She smiled. “Your face always makes me laugh, Bernie,” she said.

  “Thanks,” I said. “That was a compliment, right?”

  “For sure,” she replied.

  “Help me up,” I said. I reached out my hand.

  She stuck her chewing gum into my palm. Then she took off, running to class.

  That girl is just plain crazy about me.

  Groaning, I pulled myself to my feet. I tucked my broken glasses into my shirt pocket. “That proves it,” I told Lippy. “Your luck has run out.”

  I ignored the bird and staggered to the dorm. My buddies and I live in the dorm called Rotten House. It’s actually a run-down old house on the edge of campus. And we love it.

  Mrs. Heinie is our dorm mother. We all love Mrs. Heinie, mainly because she’s very nearsighted. That means we can get away with pretty much anything!

  This morning, Mrs. Heinie was in the Commons Room, our living room, picking up crinkled soda cans and empty tortilla chip bags guys had tossed around last night.

  I crept in on tiptoe, heading for the stairs. I had to get to my room on the third floor without her seeing me. I knew I’d be in major trouble with Mrs. H. if she saw that I’d been out all night.

  Softly…softly…I crept along the wall silently…holding my breath.

  I nearly made it to the stairs when Lippy let out a loud,

  Mrs. Heinie spun around and squinted at me through her thick eyeglasses. “Bernie? Sneaking in at eight in the morning?” she said.

  “I can explain, Mrs. H.,” I said. “I just joined the Wake Up at Dawn Club, and I—”

  Huh? I couldn’t believe this! Now the bird was snitching on me?!

  “He’s joking,” I told Mrs. Heinie. “The bird loves to joke.”

  “So do I,” said Mrs. Heinie. “Bernie, do you know a good joke about scrubbing the kitchen floor?”

  Uh-oh.

  “No. I don’t know that joke,” I said.

  She handed me a mop and a bucket. “Get started,” she said. “Maybe you’ll learn it.”

  “Oh, really?” said Mrs. Heinie. “Well, then, you can scrub all the bathroom floors, too.”

  The bird did it to me again!

  I felt like mopping the floor with Lippy! My bigmouthed parrot was definitely BAD LUCK.

  As I mopped the floors, I asked myself the same questions over and over: What happened to Lucky Lippy? How can I get the good luck back?

  Chapter 8

  IS THERE A CURE FOR BAD LUCK?

  When I finally finished mopping, my hands were red and swelled up like balloons. I was hot and sweaty and not feeling in tip-top shape.

  I trudged up the stairs to my room on the third floor. My good buddy Belzer was waiting for me. He had a big tray in his hands. “I figured you’d be tired, Big B,” he said. “So I brought you a small lunch from the Dining Hall.”

  Good kid, Belzer.

  I lifted the lid off the tray. Belzer had brought two hamburgers, two plates of fries, a chili dog, a bowl of coleslaw, two pickles, two slices of pepperoni pizza, a bowl of tomato soup, a turkey club sandwich, a bowl of red and green grapes, and two thick shakes, one chocolate, one strawberry.

  “Pretty light,” I said. “But no problem. I’ll grab a snack later.”

  “I put ketchup on each French fry,” Belzer said. “And I tasted each grape to make sure they were all sweet.”

  “You’re the man!” I said. I handed Lippy to him. “Put him into his cage and cover it with a heavy blanket. I never want to see him again.”

  “Are you sure this is your parrot?” Belzer asked. “He looks like a bald eagle.”

  I sighed. “Feenman and Crench rubbed the feathers off his head. And I think they rubbed all the good luck off, too.”

  Belzer petted Lippy’s bald head. Lippy bit his little finger off.

  “The feathers will grow back,” Belzer said when he finally stopped screaming.

  “I can’t wait around for feathers to grow,” I said. “Look how much bad luck he already brought me!” I waved my hand—and spilled the thick strawberry shake into my lap.

  “See? See?” I cried. “And strawberry is my favorite! I can’t take this!”

  Belzer scrunched up his face till it looked like a closed fist. That’s how you can tell when he’s trying to think.

  “Maybe Nurse Hanley knows a way to fix Lippy,” he said.

  “Yes!” I cried. I jumped up excitedly—and spilled the rest of the food all over my shoes. “Yes! Nurse Hanley!”

  I grabbed the bird around the neck and started to the door. I knew Nurse Hanley could help. Nurse Hanley is a genius!

  I mean, when Belzer woke up one morning and couldn’t walk, we were all terrified. But it was Nurse Hanley who instantly saw that his shoes were on backward.

  And two weeks ago, Feenman cut his knee trying to walk on the ceiling. Nurse Hanley did a brilliant job of bandaging it. It turned out she bandaged the wrong leg. But it didn’t matter. By the time she finished, the bleeding had stopped, anyway.

  Brilliant!

  Her office door was closed. I gave it four or five hard knocks. “Nurse Hanley? Are you in there?”

  Then I saw a little handwritten sign next to the door. My glasses were broken. I had to squint to read it:

  I couldn’t believe it.

  More bad luck for me.

  I stared at the bald bird in my hands.

  What should I do now?

  Chapter 9

  LIPPY TAKES A POWDER

  I walked across the Great Lawn, carrying Lippy back to the dorm. As I passed the statue of I. B. Rotten, I saw
that spoiled rich kid Sherman Oaks. Why was he surrounded by a big bunch of kids?

  As I walked closer, I saw that Sherman was showing off a new bike. “It has a 3-D navigation system,” Sherman told the crowd. “I just pedal, and it steers itself.”

  A lot of kids were impressed.

  “The bike has six cup holders,” Sherman said. “Is that cool, or what?”

  I tried to hurry away, but Sherman spotted me. “Hey, Bernie—another you-know-what tournament tonight?”

  “Sorry. Can’t do it,” I said. “I promised Mrs. Heinie I’d help her with her knitting.”

  No way I could play cards with Sherman or anyone else. Not with Unlucky Lippy around. I’d lose big-time!

  I trotted off, and a few steps later—more bad luck.

  I ran into Angel Goodeboy.

  Angel is blond and blue-eyed and apple-cheeked and sweet looking. He looks like he should have a halo over his head.

  With his sweet smile and good manners, Mrs. Heinie, Headmaster Upchuck, and all the grownups think he’s a perfect angel.

  But I know the truth about Angel. He’s NOT an angel—unless you spell Angel like this: R-A-T.

  “What’s up, Angel?” I asked.

  He flashed me his dazzling, angelic smile. “I’m so excited, Bernie. My favorite cousin, Jolly Goodfellow, is coming to visit.”

  Angel’s smile faded. He squinted at Lippy. “Oh, my gosh and golly!” he exclaimed. “What happened to your lovely bird?”

  I shrugged. “No big deal. He lost a few feathers.”

  Angel patted my shoulder and smiled that blinding smile again. “Bernie, you’re in luck. I can help repair Lippy.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Repair him? How?”

  “My parents keep birds at home,” Angel said. “They have twenty lovebirds. Oh, my gosh. Sometimes the cooing keeps me up all night.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said.

  “All the Goodeboys love birds,” Angel said. “My cousin Bigboy Goodeboy keeps parakeets in his pockets.”

  “Thanks for sharing that with me,” I said.

  “Anyway,” Angel continued, “I have a very special jar of bird powder in my dorm room. I was going to bring it to my parents as a gift.”

  I stared at him. “Bird powder? What does it do?”

  “Oh, my gosh and golly. It makes feathers grow back instantly,” Angel said. “I’ll go get it for you, Bernie.”

  Angel trotted off toward his dorm. “I hate to see a bird with a bald spot,” he said. “We don’t want that poor thing to catch cold.”

  I stood there and watched him run all the way. “What an angel that dude is,” I told myself. “Maybe I got him all wrong.”

  I carried Lippy back to my room. “In a few minutes, you’re going to be beautiful,” I said. “And you’ll be my lucky bird again.”

  He plopped some green gunk onto my shirt.

  I laughed.

  I set Lippy down onto his perch by the window. A few minutes later, Feenman and Crench shuffled in. Huge wads of pink bubble gum made their cheeks bulge.

  Crench blew a big bubble and popped it with his finger. The gum exploded over his face and stuck to his cheeks, his forehead, and his hair. It didn’t seem to bother him. He just left it there.

  Feenman handed me a small yellow jar. “Angel said to give this to you, Big B. What is it?”

  I kissed the jar. “This is precious. Precious!” I said. “It’s feather-growing powder. For Lippy.”

  Crench made a grab for the jar. “Better try some on Feenman first,” he said. “You know. A test.”

  “You’re already a featherbrain!” Feenman said.

  “Give it a rest,” I said. “This is serious. You want bad luck for the rest of your life? We’ve gotta fix this bird.”

  I walked over to Lippy and opened the jar. I rubbed some of the yellow powder onto my fingers.

  Feenman and Crench grew silent. The only sound in the room was the snapping and popping of their bubble gum.

  Carefully…

  Carefully…I started to rub the powder onto Lippy’s bald head.

  Would it work?

  Chapter 10

  ANGEL’S LITTLE JOKE

  A sneeze exploded from my mouth and nose.

  Powder flew up from the jar in a yellow cloud.

  I sneezed again. A loud, wet, powerful sneeze.

  “Oh, no!” I let out a cry as I realized I’d SNEEZED so hard, I sneezed some of Lippy’s feathers right off him!

  I sneezed again. Again.

  Feenman sneezed.

  Crench sneezed.

  Feathers flew. Powder flew.

  LIPPY sneezed!

  Belzer stumbled into the room. “Yo. What’s up?”

  Belzer sneezed so hard, his pants fell down. He reached for his pants—and sneezed again.

  I sneezed some more. Sneezed so hard, I couldn’t breathe.

  Lippy sneezed. More feathers went flying.

  I turned away from him—and saw someone standing in the doorway watching us.

  Angel Goodeboy.

  He raised his hands to his round, pink cheeks. His blue eyes went wide. “Oh, my gosh and golly,” he said.

  A grin spread over his angelic face. “Did I make a little mistake?” he asked. “Did I accidentally give you the jar of sneezing powder I got from a joke Web site?”

  He pressed his hands to his cheeks. “Oh, my gosh and golly. My bad. My bad! How could I make such a horrid mistake?”

  He turned and hurried away. I heard him laughing all the way down the stairs.

  That proved it once and for all. Angel was no angel.

  I sneezed again—and watched the rest of Lippy’s feathers go sailing into the air. I looked up. It was raining feathers in the room!

  “Unnnh…unnnnh…” Feenman wiped the snot off his face with Crench’s shirtsleeve. “Bernie—that bird…he’s totally BALD!”

  Crench picked up Lippy and used him as a handkerchief.

  “Put him down,” I muttered. “He’s had a bad enough day, hasn’t he? Why does he have to wipe your nose?”

  I frowned at the limp, scrawny, naked bird and shook my head sadly. “You’re bad luck,” I said. “Bad-Luck Lippy. You have to go. Or else I’ll never have good luck again.”

  Feenman and Crench both gasped. “He’ll have to go? Do you mean it, Bernie?” Crench asked. “You’re gonna get rid of him?”

  I nodded. I had tears in my eyes. My stomach felt as tight as a knot. “We have no choice,” I whispered. “My poor pet parrot—he has to go.”

  But…where?

  Chapter 11

  GOOD NEWS, BAD NEWS

  It broke my heart—but what choice did I have?

  I waited till all the kids were on their way to dinner in the Dining Hall. I couldn’t eat. I was too upset.

  I put Lippy into his cage and carried it to the side of the girls’ dorm. I set the cage down in the grass next to the door.

  I blew Lippy a kiss. “Don’t worry,” I said. “A nice girl will adopt you and give you a good home.”

  He was so cute. I almost changed my mind.

  But…no way. I had to leave my bad luck behind.

  I blew him another kiss, forced myself to turn away—and ran all the way back to Rotten House.

  “Bernie? Bernie—come here a minute.” Mrs. Heinie stopped me at the stairs.

  Uh-oh. Was this good luck or bad?

  “Uh…sorry, Mrs. H.,” I said. “No time to talk right now. I’m skipping dinner tonight. You know I like to study for at least six hours every night. Four hours just isn’t enough. I want to learn, learn, learn!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Tell me another one,” she said. “Bernie, I know Belzer does your homework for you every night.”

  “No way,” I said. “I do all the thinking. He just writes it down.”

  “Bernie, give me a break,” Mrs. Heinie said. “I just want to congratulate you. You did such a wonderful mopping job. I think you deserve an extra dessert tonight!”r />
  Lippy was gone for only two minutes—and my luck was changing already!

  I thanked Mrs. Heinie and hurried to the Dining Hall. On the way, I found a crisp dollar bill lying in the grass. More good luck! And two desserts waiting for me!

  Could life get any better?

  Later that night, I even found my spare set of glasses. I sat in my room watching Belzer do my homework. I looked up when I heard a knock at the door.

  “Yo, Bernie!” Angel Goodeboy walked in—carrying the birdcage with Lippy inside it.

  Angel’s blue eyes twinkled. “Bernie, I found your parrot by the girls’ dorm,” he said. “I rescued him for you. Please—don’t thank me. I know how crazy you are about this bird!”

  “But—but—” I sputtered.

  Angel giggled. Then he set the cage down and hurried away.

  Another knock on the door. Mrs. Heinie poked her head in. “By the way, Bernie,” she said. “You did such a great cleaning job, I want you to mop the floors every week!”

  I let out a long groan. Bad luck. Bad luck for Bernie B.

  Bad-Luck Lippy was back.

  Chapter 12

  BERNIE THE HUMAN PRETZEL

  The next morning, I heard thundering hoofbeats again as I headed across the Great Lawn to class. I tried to run, but Jennifer Ecch tackled me from behind and dropped me to the ground.

  “Good morning, Sweet Cakes,” she said. She sat on my chest so I couldn’t escape.

  “Don’t call me Sweet Cakes,” I said, spitting grass from between my teeth. “What do you want, Jennifer?”

  She took my hand and licked it for a while. I told you—she’s crazy nuts about me.

  “Jennifer, please—I just had a shower,” I said.