Party Poopers Read online

  Rotten School

  Party Poopers

  R.L. Stine

  Illustrations by Trip Park

  For Grandottie

  –TP

  Contents

  Map

  Morning Announcements

  1. Go, Bernie!

  2. Duck Plop

  3. My Biggest Fault

  4. Three Nostrils?

  5. Bernie Breath

  6. The Coolest Dude

  7. The Sound the Sharks Make

  8. Toe Fungus

  9. Crybabies

  10. Splat!

  11. The Big Rodent Hunt

  12. Tinkle Tinkle

  13. Egg Barf

  14. Ba-Boom! Ba-Boom!

  15. “Everybody Join In!”

  16. Good News, Bad News

  17. Jennifer Changes Her Mind

  18. In the Soup

  19. “Mmmmwwwwwaaaaaaaah!”

  20. A Deadly Tug of War

  21. Ruined!

  About the Author

  Other Books by Rotten School Series

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Map

  MORNING ANNOUNCEMENTS

  Good morning, Rotten students. This is Headmaster Upchuck. I’d like to begin our Rotten day by reading the Morning Announcements. Those of you who are screaming or crying at the top of your lungs or pounding each other with your fists—please stop so that others may hear the announcements. Thank you.

  The fourth grader known as Beast would like to invite everyone to the Crafts Fair in the gym. When you go, you can see Beast’s life-size sculpture of me—Headmaster Upchuck—made entirely from things he found in his nose.

  Students in Ms. Sally Monella’s Homemaker class will be selling used baked goods at the Crafts Fair. Ms. Monella tells me the cookies, brownies, and cakes are only slightly used.

  I’m sorry to say that the Butt Sculptures molded in clay by third grader Murray Krissmus are disgusting and will not be shown at the fair. Murray’s clay has been taken away from him.

  Mrs. Twinkler announces something exciting this week: The guest speaker on Guest Speaker Day will be a well-known Hollywood chimpanzee.

  And finally, fifth grader Harry Ahrms has been sent home for a while. He knows why.

  Chapter 1

  GO, BERNIE!

  The sun was shining. Birds twittered in the apple trees. As I trotted across the sparkling, green lawn, I sang to myself, my new favorite song….

  “I love Bernie Bridges,

  Bernie is the one who has fun.

  Go, Bernie! Go, Bernie!

  La-duh-da-duh-da whatever rhymes with Bridges.”

  Yes, I was making it up as I went along. I always write songs in my head. And they’re usually about one of my favorite people in the whole world—ME.

  Come on, dudes—if you were popular and good-looking and smart—who would you sing about?

  And today I had a lot to sing about.

  For one thing, I love being at Rotten School. You poor thing. You probably have to go home every day after school. But Rotten School is a boarding school. I get to live at school in a dorm with all my friends—and NO PARENTS!

  Cool enough for you?

  Another reason I was singing: I was on my way to the girls’ dorm to find April-May June. April-May June is the hottest, coolest, dreamiest, drooliest, babe-alicious girl on campus.

  She’s my girlfriend. Only she doesn’t know it yet. She doesn’t have a clue that we were meant for each other. But she definitely can’t resist me.

  Who can resist Bernie B.?

  La-la-la something that rhymes with Bernie…”

  Don’t you wish you could write songs off the top of your head like that?

  Another reason I was singing? It was almost time for the party of the year. The All-Nighter. One of the great Rotten School traditions. Maybe you guessed from the name—the party goes ALL NIGHT LONG! We don’t go to sleep till the sun comes up.

  I knew April-May wanted to spend that special night with only one special person—Bernie B.

  So I was trotting across the Great Lawn. I sang to myself and watched the girls come out of their tall, white dorm.

  Suddenly I heard a deafening cry behind me:

  Huh?

  I stopped singing and hit the ground hard.

  Chapter 2

  DUCK PLOP

  I landed on my stomach. My breath shot out in a painful whoosh! With a groan, I spun around and glanced behind me.

  I saw my friend Feenman running across the grass. He was hugging a big, brown duck in his arms. The duck was quacking its head off and snapping at Feenman’s ears.

  “Duck, Bernie!” he shouted.

  I pushed myself to my feet. I brushed off the knees of my khakis. “Feenman,” I said, “where did you get that duck?”

  “I found it,” he said.

  The duck honked and chewed off a big hunk of Feenman’s brown hair.

  “You’d better set it free,” I said. “It doesn’t like you.”

  Feenman’s mouth dropped open. “Set it free? But I found it! It’s mine!”

  Feenman is not the brightest candle on the cake. If we are talking brains, the duck would win.

  Feenman squeezed the duck a little too hard. It dropped a disgusting mess onto his shoes.

  “Bernie, are you going to the hard-boiled-egg-eating contest Friday?” Feenman asked. “Are you gonna bet on Beast?”

  Our friend Beast can eat anything. Last year he ate forty-two hard-boiled eggs before he barfed his guts out.

  I made a ton of money betting on the dude.

  “I don’t have time for the contest,” I said. “I’ve got to find April-May. I want to go with her to the All-Nighter.”

  “It’s a girl-ask-boy party,” Feenman said. “If a girl doesn’t ask you, you can’t go!”

  “April-May is desperate to ask me,” I said. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  The duck snapped off another hunk of Feenman’s hair. “Did you hear what they are planning?” he asked. “A huge barbeque. A soccer game on R.U. Dumm Field—boys against girls. Then a three-legged race across Pooper’s Pond. And a treasure hunt in the dark for BIG prizes.”

  I rubbed my hands together. “I gotta get to that party,” I said. “I have a special reason. I’ll show you why.”

  I saw my buddy Belzer staggering under the two huge cartons he was carrying for me. You don’t expect Bernie B. to carry two fifty-pound cartons, do you?

  “Belzer—come over here!” I shouted.

  He stumbled forward. “Hunh-hunh-hunh.” He was gasping for breath. “Hunh-hunh.” Sweat poured off his pudgy face.

  “Okay. You can set ’em down for a minute,” I said.

  Belzer lowered the cartons. Then he fell face-down onto the grass in a dead faint.

  “Feenman, put down the duck,” I said. “Check this out.”

  He hugged the duck tighter. “Maybe we can cook it,” he said.

  “Feenman, we’re kids—remember? Kids don’t cook duck.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. I don’t wanna eat duck, anyway. All those feathers would get stuck in my teeth.”

  “Drop it,” I said. “Before it drops another pile of plop onto your shoes.”

  Oops. Too late.

  Feenman finally opened his arms and set the duck free. It tore across the grass, flapping and squawking.

  “Feenman, come over here,” I said. I tugged open one of the cartons. “This is why I’ve gotta get to the All-Nighter. Check this out….”

  Chapter 3

  MY BIGGEST FAULT

  Feenman squinted into the open carton. “What are those, Big B?”

  I pulled out one of the shiny, red objects. “Pocket flashlights,” I said. “Two hundre
d pocket flashlights.”

  He stared at the one in my hand. “For seeing into your pocket?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, Feenman. They’re for cheating at the treasure hunt. It’s gonna be pitch black at night, right? Well…every kid at the party will want one.”

  Feenman pulled a flashlight from the box and studied it. “For finding the hidden treasure?”

  “You got it,” I said. “I’m gonna sell them cheap. Only a dollar each. I’ll sell all two hundred. Easy. This party is gonna make me RICH!”

  Feenman clicked the flashlight on. He frowned at it and clicked it again. “Bernie,” he said, “this flashlight doesn’t work.”

  “You’ve got to slap it a few times,” I said. “What do you want for a dollar?”

  Feenman slapped the end of the flashlight, and the light flickered on. “Cool,” he said. “What’s in the other box?”

  I tugged open the carton and pulled out a sweatshirt. “You know how cold it gets late at night. I’m gonna sell at least a hundred of these—at five dollars each.”

  “Wow,” Feenman said. “Let me see the front.”

  I held up the sweatshirt. It had a big picture of my smiling face on it. And it read: I PARTIED ALL NIGHT WITH BERNIE!

  “Feenman,” I said, “can anyone resist a sweatshirt like this? Of course not.”

  I folded up the sweatshirt and dropped it back into the carton. “Kids will also want to buy the flashlights so they can see their new sweatshirts! It’s a perfect combo!”

  “Brilliant!” Feenman cried. “Bernie, you’re a genius!”

  “We’ll be rich. RICH!” I cried. “All of us dudes at Rotten House—we’ll be rolling in money! Of course, I’m only doing this for my guys.”

  Feenman scratched his head. “You mean you’re gonna share the money with us?”

  “Maybe five or ten dollars,” I said. “Don’t thank me, Feenman. I know I’m too generous. It’s my biggest fault.”

  I dragged Belzer to his feet. “Take the boxes to the dorm,” I said. “And be careful with them. I spent three months’ allowance on this stuff.”

  “Hunh-hunh.” Belzer staggered off with the cartons. Good kid, Belzer.

  Feenman shook his head. “Bernie, you spent three months’ allowance? What if no girl asks you to the All-Nighter? You’re totally sunk.”

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you kidding? A dozen girls are dying to ask me. Maybe two dozen. But they’re holding themselves back. Because they know April-May June wants to ask me first.”

  And then I saw her crossing the grass. I saw her blond ponytail bobbing in the sunlight. Her blue eyes sparkling, her mouth in a happy smile.

  Was she thinking about me?

  “Take a lesson, Feenman,” I said. “Watch how I allow April-May to ask me to the party.”

  I took off, trotting to catch up to her.

  Chapter 4

  THREE NOSTRILS?

  “April-May—hi!” I called. “Wait up!”

  She kept walking. I guess she didn’t hear me.

  “Wait up!”

  She walked a little faster. She probably didn’t know it was me.

  I had to run full speed. I caught up with her and spun her around. I flashed her my most adorable smile, the one with the dimples. “Hi ya, babes. Whussup?”

  She gave me a warm greeting. “Take a hike, Pond Scum.”

  I laughed. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have an awesome sense of humor?”

  She pulled a fat wad of pink bubble gum from her mouth and stuck it onto my forehead.

  I know what it means when girls tease you that way. It means they really like you!

  “April-May, you look totally excellent today,” I said.

  “You look like the breakfast I just threw up,” she replied.

  I laughed again. “Funny. I love a good laugh in the morning.”

  “Want a good laugh, Bernie? Go look in a mirror!” she said.

  I had to run again to catch up to her. I knew all her hard-to-get tricks.

  “You’re so shy,” I said. “Don’t be ashamed. I’m shy, too.”

  She pulled the bubble gum off my forehead and shoved it back into her mouth.

  “I know how much you want to ask me to the All-Nighter,” I said. “So don’t be shy. Just go ahead and ask me.”

  She rolled her beautiful eyes. “I’d rather have big, red pimples up and down my tongue,” she said.

  “Is that a yes?” I asked.

  “I’d rather stick my head into Pooper’s Pond,” she said. “I’d rather drill a third nostril into my nose.”

  “Is that a maybe?” I asked. I slapped my hand over her mouth. “No. Don’t answer. I know what you’re really saying. You’re really saying you want to ask me to the All-Nighter.”

  April-May tossed back her head and laughed until she swallowed her bubble gum.

  “OWW!” I let out a scream as someone attacked me from behind.

  I felt two strong arms wrap around my waist. I lurched—and fell backward onto the grass. Before I could move, someone landed on my stomach.

  Jennifer Ecch!

  That big, hulking girl I call Nightmare Girl. She sat on me, her stringy hair falling over her face. She gazed down at me with her one brown eye and one blue eye.

  “Honey Cakes,” she cooed, “guess who’s going to the All-Nighter with me?”

  Chapter 5

  BERNIE BREATH

  Do you know how embarrassing it is to be in fourth grade and have a girl who’s totally in love with you?

  Jennifer Ecch follows me everywhere. She calls me Honey Cakes and Baby Lamb. She thinks it’s perfectly okay to plant loud, smoochy kisses all over me—even in class!

  It’s hard to fight her. She’s big and strong. She opens cans with her teeth!

  And now here she was, sitting on my chest, inviting me to the All-Nighter in front of my girlfriend!

  I struggled to breathe. “April-May, don’t be jealous,” I choked out.

  April-May laughed. “That’s so adorable, the way Jennifer tackled you and knocked your breath out,” she said.

  “Adorable?” I cried. “She broke sixteen ribs!”

  April-May grinned down at me. “That’s so cute, the way Jennifer is planting smoochy kisses up and down your arm.”

  I groaned. “It’s giving me a skin rash! I’ll have to see the nurse!”

  Jennifer grabbed my head and tugged it.

  “The head doesn’t come off!” I screamed. “It’s attached to my neck!”

  April-May laughed again. “Bernie, it’s so totally cute how she’s got you in that headlock and won’t let go until you agree to go to the All-Nighter with her!”

  “Cute? You call this cute?” I wailed. “She rubbed off all my hair. I’ve been scalped!”

  April-May shrugged. “Frankly, Bernie, I don’t know what she sees in you.” She tossed back her blond ponytail and hurried away.

  The Ecch leaned over me, breaking a few more ribs. “Don’t pay any attention to that stuck-up girl, Lamby Toes,” she cooed.

  “Don’t call me Lamby Toes!” I shouted.

  “Baa-baa Berniekins,” she said.

  SICK!

  “Jennifer, I…I can’t go with you to the All-Nighter.”

  She gave my ears a hard tug. I knew my earmuffs wouldn’t fit anymore. “Why not?” she demanded.

  “I…I have Dorm Patrol that night. I have to stay in and guard the dorm.”

  She pulled my ears again. This time she pulled them so hard, they touched each other! “Honey Face, there’s no such thing as Dorm Patrol.”

  I gulped. “There isn’t?”

  She squeezed my neck until my eyeballs nearly popped out. “Bernie Breath, we’ll have so much fun at the All-Nighter!”

  “Please—please don’t call me Bernie Breath!” I begged.

  “We’ll have the whole night together!” she said. “Hours and hours!”

  I groaned. I knew what the night would be like. Jennifer hugging me an
d holding on to me and calling me Bernie Breath in front of all my friends.

  I mean, double

  I couldn’t go with Jennifer. No way. Especially since April-May was dying to ask me!

  And here was the other problem: If The Ecch was hugging me all night, how would I sell my sweatshirts and flashlights?

  I spent three months’ allowance on that stuff. I had to sell it all!

  That meant I had to get to the party—without Jennifer!

  But—how?

  Chapter 6

  THE COOLEST DUDE

  Wes Updood lives across the Great Lawn from us in Nyce House—the dorm we Rotten House dudes all hate. But that doesn’t matter—Wes is the coolest guy on campus.

  He is tall and thin and has spiky, brown hair. I don’t know what color eyes he has because he never takes off his shades—even in the shower!

  Wes plays saxophone and has an awesome rock band. He’s so totally cool, no one can understand a word he says!

  After classes, I went to the gym to help Coach Manley Bunz deflate the basketballs. Coach likes to take all the air out of the balls after every practice. Don’t ask me why.

  I was surprised to see Wes in the middle of the floor, practicing with his band. He lowered his big, golden sax and flipped me a two-fingered salute.

  “Whussup, dude?” Wes Updood said.

  “Not much,” I said. “What’s up with the band? Are you gonna play at the All-Nighter?”