Mr. Will Needs to Chill!

by Dan Gutman

“Maybe we can go to the Ding-Dong truck after school lets out this afternoon,” Michael whispered hopefully.

  “And you can forget about going to the Ding-Dong truck after school lets out,” Dr. Carbles announced. “I got a restraining order against Mr. Will. He isn’t allowed to come within five hundred feet of the school anymore. So nobody gets ice cream. Not on my watch.”

  What did watches have to do with anything? Why would anybody put ice cream on a watch? That would be weird.

  “I wonder when we’ll be allowed to get ice cream again,” whispered Emily.

  “You can forget about getting ice cream for the rest of your life,” announced Dr. Carbles.

  WHAT?!

  “Boooooooo!”

  “Wow, it’s almost as if Dr. Carbles can hear us talking,” whispered Andrea.

  “I heard that!” said Dr. Carbles. “Mr. Cooper’s students had better stop whispering to each other, or they’ll all be in big trouble!”

  “He put a bug in our classroom!” whispered Andrea.

  “Gross!” I shouted, looking inside my desk. “I hate bugs.”

  “Not those kinds of bugs, dumbhead,” said Andrea. “Dr. Carbles planted a microphone somewhere in here. He’s listening to every word we say.”

  “That’s right,” said Dr. Carbles. “So you’d better watch your p’s and q’s.”

  Huh? Why should we watch those letters? It didn’t make any sense.

  “I’m afraid,” said Emily, who’s afraid of everything.

  But I was afraid too. We all were.

  Finally the morning announcements were finished. I looked over at Mr. Cooper to see what he was going to teach us. But he just sat there with his head on the desk.

  “What are we going to work on this morning, Mr. Cooper?” asked Andrea. “Social studies?”

  “No.”

  “Reading?” asked Alexia.

  “Nah.”

  “Do you want us to turn to page twenty-three in our math books?” asked Ryan.

  “Whatever,” groaned Mr. Cooper. “I don’t care.”

  That was weird. Mr. Cooper loves teaching us stuff.

  After a few minutes he told us it was time for fizz ed with Miss Small. Yay! I love fizz ed. We walked a million hundred miles to the gym. When we got there, Miss Small didn’t look very happy either. She was sitting on the floor under the basketball hoop.

  “Are we going to play basketball this morning, Miss Small?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Are we going to have relay races?” asked Alexia.

  “No. Just go out in the playground and do whatever you want,” Miss Small muttered. “I’m not in the mood.”

  Wow. None of the teachers wanted to teach! With Dr. Carbles in charge, they just looked sad.

  So we did what we were told. We went out to the playground. And you’ll never believe in a million hundred years what happened next.

  There was that sound in the distance.

  A jingly-jangly sound.

  It was . . . the Ding-Dong truck!

  “He’s back!” I shouted. “Mr. Will is back!”

  “Hooray!” everybody shouted as the Ding-Dong truck pulled up and Mr. Will stepped out of it.

  That’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened.

  A tank came rolling down the street.

  Not a fish tank. It would be weird if a fish tank came rolling down the street. No, it was one of those army tanks, with a cannon in front. I saw it with my own eyes!

  Well, it would be pretty hard to see something with somebody else’s eyes.

  The tank stopped close to the Ding-Dong truck. The hatch on the top opened up. And guess whose head popped out of it? Yes, it was Dr. Carbles’s!

  “You are breaking the law, Ding-Dong man!” he shouted through his bullhorn. “Get out of here, and turn off that horrible music!”

  “No way!” Mr. Will shouted back. “Did you ever hear of the First Amendment? We have freedom of speech in this country, you know!”

  “Your freedom of speech ends at my ears!” shouted Dr. Carbles.

  “Your students want ice cream!” shouted Mr. Will.

  “I don’t care what my students want!” Dr. Carbles shouted back. “If you don’t get out of here right this minute, I will make you leave.”

  It looked like there was going to be a big fight. Like maybe Mr. Will was going to shoot soft serve ice cream out of a hose on the Ding-Dong truck. That would be cool.

  “I don’t like violence,” said Andrea. “It’s inappropriate for children.”

  “What do you have against violins?” I asked her.

  “Not violins, Arlo! Violence!”

  I knew that. I was just yanking Andrea’s chain.

  But there was no battle. Mr. Will didn’t spray Dr. Carbles with ice cream. He just walked back to the Ding-Dong truck and slowly drove away.

  “Don’t come here again!” Dr. Carbles shouted as he shook his fist in the air at Mr. Will. “I will crush your pathetic ice cream rebellion.”

  There was nothing we could do but watch through the fence. Dr. Carbles turned around and looked at us.

  “Go back to class, you little punks!” he barked.

  He’s mean! Having Dr. Carbles as our principal was worse than TV Turnoff Week. It was worse than National Poetry Month. It was worse than TV Turnoff Week and National Poetry Month put together.

  As Mr. Will drove off, we could hear the Ding-Dong jingle fading away in the distance. For the first time ever, it sounded sad and lonely.*

  It was really quiet when we got to the vomitorium for lunch that day. Everybody was afraid of what Dr. Carbles might do next.

  Me and the gang waited in line until we reached Ms. LaGrange, our lunch lady. Ms. LaGrange is strange. One time, she wrote a secret message in the mashed potatoes. That was weird.

  “What’s for lunch, Ms. LaGrange?” asked Michael.

  “Today I’m serving a bowl of dried mush with a piece of stale bread,” she replied sadly.

  The mush looked gross.

  “Mush is a food?” asked Alexia.

  “It is now,” Ms. LaGrange replied. “I’m under direct orders from Dr. Carbles. And tomorrow we will have cold gruel.”

  “Gruel? What’s that?” asked Neil.

  “You don’t want to know,” Ms. LaGrange replied.

  “Can we get dessert?” I asked.

  “Dessert?” said Ms. LaGrange with a snort. “Are you kidding?”

  “No dessert?” I asked.

  At that moment, a voice came out of a little speaker next to the cash register.

  “Dessert is for losers!” said the voice. “Eat your dried mush and stop complaining! You kids are lucky to get any food at all.”

  It was Dr. Carbles! There was a little video camera next to the cash register.

  “I’ve got my eye on you, A.J.,” Dr. Carbles said. “Don’t try any funny stuff or you’ll be in big trouble.”

  We found an empty table and sat down. I looked at my bowl of dried mush.

  “I’m not eating this,” I said.

  “Me neither,” said everybody else.

  Except Ryan, of course. Ryan will eat anything, even stuff that isn’t food.

  “I’ll try it,” he said.

  Ryan dipped his spoon into the dried mush.

  Then he brought the spoon up to his lips.

  I was already grossed out.

  Then Ryan opened his mouth.

  I thought I was gonna die.

  Then Ryan put the spoon in his mouth.

  Isn’t this exciting?*

  Then Ryan swallowed the dried mush. Ugh, gross!

  I looked at Ryan. Michael looked at Ryan. Andrea looked at Ryan. Neil looked at Ryan. Everybody was looking at Ryan.

  “Not bad,” Ryan finally said. “It tastes like pudding.”

  Pudding?! We all dipped our spoons into the dried mush. Actually it wasn’t bad once you put some sugar on it.

  But even so, everybody was in a bad mood d
uring lunch. Recess had been canceled. After we finished eating, we were told to go out to the playground, where Dr. Carbles was waiting for us.

  “Are we going to play a game?” asked Andrea hopefully.

  “No!” barked Dr. Carbles. “Games are for losers. Today you’re going to learn how to march.”

  WHAT?!

  “Pringle up!” Dr. Carbles shouted through his bullhorn. “Forward, march! Left! Right! Left! Right!”

  It was horrible. Marching is no fun at all. While we were marching back and forth, I looked over to see if the Ding-Dong truck was parked outside the school. It wasn’t. Mr. Will was nowhere to be seen.

  “Left! Right! Left! Right!” barked Dr. Carbles.

  “Where do you think Mr. Will went?” Michael whispered as we marched.

  “Maybe he went to Dirk School,” whispered Ryan.

  Ugh. Dirk School. That’s a school on the other side of town for genius kids. We call it “Dork School.”

  “Left! Right! Left! Right!”

  “Maybe Dr. Carbles kidnapped Mr. Will and tied him up in a dungeon,” I whispered. “That stuff happens all the time, you know.”

  “Stop trying to scare Emily,” said Andrea.

  “I’m scared,” said Emily.

  “Left! Right! Left! Right!” barked Dr. Carbles. “Marching makes you strong. Playing silly games makes you weak.”

  Dr. Carbles had us marching back and forth across the playground for a million hundred hours. It was horrible.

  “I’m not sure I remember what ice cream tastes like anymore,” Ryan whispered.

  “I think it’s cold and wet,” whispered Michael.

  “I’ll never know what an octopus Push-Up pop tastes like,” I said.

  “Someday we’ll look back on our childhood,” whispered Alexia. “We’ll tell our grandchildren what ice cream tasted like.”

  “Those were the good old days,” I whispered to Alexia.

  “What, you mean yesterday?” whispered Neil.

  “Left! Right! Left! Right!”

  “Even if we can’t eat ice cream anymore,” whispered Andrea, “at least we can have frozen yogurt.”

  “Frozen yogurt isn’t ice cream!” I whispered. “It’s not the same!”

  “You’re right, Arlo,” Andrea admitted. “Life wouldn’t be worth living without ice cream.”

  That’s when Emily started to cry. Then we all started crying.

  Everybody was whimpering and sniffling and snorting. It was the saddest day in the history of the world.*

  The next day when we got to school, I saw the most amazing thing. The guard towers were gone! The barbed wire was gone! So were the security cameras and the barking dogs! And most importantly, Dr. Carbles was gone! Standing at the top of the front steps and giving everyone hugs was our principal, Mr. Klutz.

  He has no hair at all. I mean none. His head is like a bowling ball with a face on it.

  “He’s back!” everybody was shouting. “Mr. Klutz is back!”

  Mr. Klutz is a nice man. He’s not mean like Dr. Carbles.

  “I missed you kids!” Mr. Klutz shouted when we all came over to hug him.

  “We missed you too!” said Emily.

  “Dr. Carbles is mean,” said Ryan.

  “Marshall can be a little . . . uh, strict,” Mr. Klutz replied.

  “A little?” said Michael. “He drives a tank to school.”

  “Did you have a good time at Principal Camp, Mr. Klutz?” asked Andrea.

  “Oh yes,” he replied. “Mrs. Jafee and I met lots of experts in the field of education, and we learned all kinds of new ways of teaching. I think it’s going to help you kids learn things.”

  Ugh. Learning things is a drag. But at least it will be better than having mean Dr. Carbles around.

  “So we don’t have to march in the playground anymore?” asked Neil.

  “Nope,” said Mr. Klutz.

  “We don’t have to eat dried mush and cold gruel for lunch?” asked Alexia.

  “Never again.”

  “Can we have recess today?” asked Ryan.

  “Sure!”

  “Can we go out for ice cream during recess?” I asked hopefully.

  “Why not?” said Mr. Klutz. “In fact, you can go out for ice cream right now.”

  “HUH?” we all said, which is also “HUH” backward.

  This was too good to be true! I figured Mr. Klutz must be pulling a prank on us. We’re never allowed to eat ice cream first thing in the morning. That’s the first rule of being a kid.

  “Really?” I asked. “We can have ice cream first thing in the morning?”

  “Absolutely!” said Mr. Klutz. “One of the experts at Principal Camp told me that kids learn better when they eat ice cream for breakfast. He said the cold wakes up your brain.*

  Hmmm, that makes sense.

  “Hooray for Mr. Klutz!” everybody started chanting. “Hooray for Mr. Klutz!”

  “Go ahead!” said Mr. Klutz. “I think I hear the Ding-Dong truck coming down the street right now.”

  He was right! The Ding-Dong truck pulled up across from the school. It was playing the Ding-Dong jingle, as always.

  “Ah, I love that song,” said Mr. Klutz.

  “Mr. Will is back!” somebody shouted.

  “Hooray for Mr. Will!” everybody started chanting. “Hooray for Mr. Will!”

  “Let’s go get ice cream!” Alexia shouted.

  “Yeah!”

  We were all about to run over to the Ding-Dong truck, but then we stopped.

  “Wait,” Michael said. “I don’t have any money.”

  “Neither do I,” said Emily.

  “I just have my lunch money,” said Andrea.

  “You don’t need to use your own money,” said Mr. Klutz.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Then he gave each of us a dollar.

  What?! Free ice cream? First thing in the morning? This couldn’t be happening! It was going to be the greatest day of my life.

  We all ran over to the Ding-Dong truck. That’s when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened. The Ding-Dong truck was back, but Mr. Will wasn’t inside it! It was some other Ding-Dong guy, with blond hair. He was wearing a white Ding-Dong uniform just like Mr. Will.

  “Where’s Mr. Will?” we all asked him.

  “I don’t know,” the Ding-Dong guy said. “I guess he took the day off. I’m Mr. Bill.”

  Hmmm, that was weird. Well, I didn’t care what the guy’s name was. As long as he had ice cream.

  “Do you have octopus Push-Up pops?” I asked Mr. Bill.

  Ever since Dr. Carbles took away my octopus Push-Up pop, I had been thinking about octopus Push-Up pops.

  “Sure!” said Mr. Bill as he reached into the freezer and pulled one out. “That will be seventy-nine cents, please.”

  I handed Mr. Bill the dollar Mr. Klutz gave me. Mr. Bill looked at the dollar bill. He had a puzzled expression on his face.

  “I don’t know how much change to give you,” he said.

  What?! That was weird. Mr. Will always gave us our change right away. It didn’t even seem like he had to think about it.

  “There are a hundred pennies in a dollar,” I explained to Mr. Bill. “All you need to do is take seventy-nine from a hundred.”

  Mr. Bill looked at my dollar bill again. Then he looked at me. He still looked all confused.

  “I don’t get it,” he said. “Can you show me how to do that?”

  What?! A Ding-Dong man who can’t make change for a dollar? Mr. Bill must be a real dumbhead.

  “Uh, I guess so,” I said.

  He handed me a pad and pencil.

  “Look,” I told him as I wrote on the pad. “It’s simple subtraction. The zero becomes a ten. Ten minus nine equals one. The other zero becomes a nine, and nine minus seven equals two. So you owe me twenty-one cents.”

  “Ah yes,” Mr. Bill said as he handed me two dimes and a penny. “I see it now. Thanks for explain
ing that to me.”

  “No problemo,” I told him.

  I was about to unwrap my octopus Push-Up pop when I stopped.

  “Hey,” I said, “that sounded a lot like a math lesson just there. Are you a math teacher?”

  “No, don’t be silly,” said Mr. Bill. “I’m just a Ding-Dong man.”

  Mr. Bill is weird.

  Mr. Bill’s octopus Push-Up pop was yummy. I could hardly taste any octopus at all. Ryan got a coconut Popsicle dip. Michael got a rocket pop. Alexia got a double-dipped butterscotch swirl cone. It was the greatest day of our lives.

  When we got inside the school, all the kids and teachers were smiling again. The day seemed to fly by. Mr. Klutz was right. Eating ice cream first thing in the morning does help you learn. At lunchtime in the vomitorium, Ms. LaGrange made yummy chicken nuggets and Tater Tots for us. Everybody was happy.

  I must admit, without mean Dr. Carbles around, school was kinda fun. But don’t tell the gang I said that. They would never let me hear the end of it.

  The next morning, I could hardly wait to get to school. Mr. Klutz was waiting for us on the front steps.

  “Can we buy ice cream again today?” Neil asked.

  “Of course!” replied Mr. Klutz as he handed each of us a dollar bill. “I can hear the Ding-Dong truck coming down the street right now.”

  We all ran over to the Ding-Dong truck as soon as it pulled up to the curb. I was expecting to see Mr. Bill, the new Ding-Dong driver guy. But that’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened.

  Mr. Bill wasn’t in the truck! It was some other guy. He had red hair.

  “Where’s Mr. Bill?” we all asked him.

  “Mr. Bill is on vacation,” said the red-haired guy. “I’m Mr. Mill.”

  WHAT? How could Mr. Bill be on vacation already? He just started work yesterday! Oh, well. As long as we get ice cream every morning, I don’t care who the Ding-Dong guy is.

  “I’ll have a chocolate Magic Shell Bomb Pop,” I told Mr. Mill.

  “Sure, coming right up,” he replied. “Hey, did you know we’ve had ice cream as far back as the second century BC?”

  “Really?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it be rotten by now?”

  “No, I mean ice cream was invented a long time ago,” Mr. Mill told me. “Alexander the Great liked to eat snow and ice flavored with honey.”