The Teacher from Heck Page 2

  “I love it when you try to be funny,” Sherman said, curling his lip in a sneer. “It’s so cute. Lame, but cute.”

  “So what’s up with the vacuum cleaner?” I asked.

  “Actually, it’s a twelve-gallon water tank,” Sherman said. “It hooks up to this new Power Blaster my parents sent me.”

  He flashed me that blinding smile again. “My parents send me anything I ask for. They know I’m a spoiled brat. But they want me to be a happy spoiled brat!”

  I tapped the water tank with a fist. It was full.

  “I hook the tank up to the Devastator,” Sherman said. He pulled out a red-and-blue water blaster. It looked like the nozzle at a gas station pump.

  “The Devastator is more powerful than a fire hose. And it has a long-range viewfinder. So it can blast a kid up to a mile away.” He pointed it at me and pretended to shoot it.

  I gulped. “A mile?”

  Sherman nodded. “Are you ready to surrender, Bernie? You’d better. If I blast you with the Devastator, it will change your whole bone structure. And you’ll be about a foot shorter.”

  I tapped the water tank again. “You’re not trying to scare me—are you, Sherman?”

  He snickered. “Hee-hee-hee.” It was an evil snicker.

  I scratched my head. I pretended to be confused. “I don’t get it,” I said. “You hook up that thing to the tank, and it squirts? How does it work?”

  “It’s totally simple, dude,” Sherman said. “Even you could work it. I’ll show you.”

  He always likes to show off his new toys. Makes him feel like a big man. I scratched my head some more, pretending I didn’t get it.

  “Do you push this button here?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” Sherman said. “Here, Bernie. Try it on. I’ll show you.”

  With a groan, he hoisted the heavy tank off his back. I helped him strap it onto my back. Then I watched him hook up the big, red-and-blue nozzle.

  “Is this the shooter?” I asked. “Is this the part that blasts the water?”

  It isn’t easy for a genius like me to play dumb. But I can do it when I need to.

  “Relax, dude,” Sherman said. “It’s simple. You just hold the nozzle and press this button.”

  I bit my lip. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can work it.”

  “Yes, you can,” Sherman said. “Even a baby could do it. You just push right here.”

  “Really?” I said. I aimed the nozzle at Sherman’s chest.

  “No! Wait!” Sherman cried.

  I pushed the button.

  The blast of water was so powerful, it knocked me onto my back. Over the deafening roar, I could hear Sherman’s screams of agony.

  I sat up and took my finger off the button.

  I blinked. Once. Twice.

  Was I seeing what I was seeing?

  Yes.

  Sherman stood in front of me, dripping wet—and totally naked!

  The water blast blew all his clothes off!

  The only things he was wearing were his shoes!

  “Pretty good,” I said. I handed him back his water blaster. “Not bad. It could use a little more power, though.”

  Sherman let out a weak gurgle.

  I saw April-May June and a bunch of girls crossing the lawn. They stopped and pointed at Sherman. The girls uttered squeals of surprise. Then they started laughing their heads off.

  Sherman gurgled again. He shook a fist at me. “You’re toast, Bernie,” he said. “Totally toast.”

  He glanced at the laughing girls. Then he ran off, trying to cover his butt as he ran.

  The rumor is true! I saw. I clapped my hands to my face. Sherman really did have dollar signs tattooed on his butt!

  As I watched the naked dude run, I knew he would try to get even with me.

  Sure enough, he struck at lunch the next day….

  Chapter 6

  THE NAKED ASTRONAUT WINS

  Sherman struck without warning.

  My buddies Feenman, Crench, and I were having a quiet lunch in the Dining Hall. I was lapping up a big bowl of spaghetti. And I was showing my friends some really funny things you can do with meatballs.

  I saw April-May June get up from her seat at the girls’ table. She came walking toward me.

  My tongue fell out of my mouth. I started to pant. April-May is my girlfriend. She’s nuts about me. Only she doesn’t know it yet. She doesn’t have a clue.

  I flashed her my best smile. “Yo, April-May,” I said. “Whussup?”

  She gave me a nice greeting. “No way, Bernie,” she said.

  “But I haven’t said anything yet!” I replied.

  “No way, Bernie,” she said.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I said.

  She tossed back her blond hair. “No way, Bernie.”

  “I heard you all baked peanut-butter pies in Cooking class,” I said. I started to drool. I love peanut-butter pie. Some nights I dream about it.

  “Wipe your chin, Bernie,” April-May said. The nicest thing she ever said to me. She DOES care!

  I wiped the drool off my chin with both hands.

  “Do you think you could sneak out one of those pies for me?” I asked. “As a special favor?”

  She sneered. “Bernie,” she said, “I’d rather stick my fingers up my nose for a whole day.”

  “Does that mean you’ll do it?” I asked.

  April-May didn’t have a chance to answer.

  That’s when Sherman burst into the Dining Hall. He raised a huge, new weapon. It looked like a giant slingshot. An enormous, blue balloon bounced on top of it.

  “Stand back, everyone!” Sherman boomed. “It’s gonna BLOW!”

  “Hey, Sherman—looking good, dude! You’re wearing your pants today!” Crench shouted.

  Kids hooted with laughter.

  You can’t expect to stand totally naked on the Great Lawn and not get major laughs and hoots.

  But the laughing stopped when Sherman raised the big slingshot.

  “Stand back, everyone!” he shouted again. “This is no joke. It’s rocket-powered!”

  “Your butt is rocket-powered!” Feenman shouted. “Thanks for showing it to us yesterday!”

  This time kids didn’t laugh. A hush fell over the room. Everyone was staring at Sherman’s rocket-powered slingshot.

  “It’s a water-balloon launcher,” Sherman said. He struggled to hold it up in both hands. “My parents sent it to me because they want to buy my love. It cost two thousand dollars. It’s rocket-powered. It uses NASA technology. And it can send a water balloon into space!”

  A few kids gasped.

  “Sherman, why don’t you go up into space and try it out?” Feenman shouted. “You could be the first naked astronaut!”

  “I’m gonna try it out right here!” Sherman shouted.

  He raised the big slingshot. He pointed it at my table.

  I heard a

  And then…

  The giant blue water balloon shot across the room, spinning as it flew. It hit our table—and exploded!

  “YAAAAIIIIIEEE!” I let out a horrified cry as a wave of water swept over us. My spaghetti bowl flew up into my face. Cold water gushed over me and splashed over the table.

  When I finally pulled the spaghetti off my face, I saw Feenman and Crench frantically doing the breaststroke on the tabletop.

  I spit out a mouthful of water and turned to the front of the room. My friends and I were soaked.

  April-May stood a few feet away with Sherman and Wes Updood. They had their heads tossed back, and they were laughing…laughing their guts out.

  I grabbed Feenman and Crench and dragged them to dry land. Then I raised both hands in surrender.

  “Truce!” I shouted. “Truce!”

  Crench grabbed me by my soaked school blazer. “Huh? Bernie? What’s up with that? Are you really giving up?”

  “You never give up!” Feenman cried. “Never!”

  I brushed them both away. “Truce!” I shoute
d to Sherman. I kept my hands up high. “It’s over. You win, Sherman. You win!”

  Chapter 7

  A SECRET WEAPON

  I know. I know. This is supposed to be the story of how we got stuck with Mr. Skruloose, The Teacher from Heck. Well, I’m getting to it.

  Just stick with me. I’m up to the good part of the story. I mean, the bad part. This is the part of the story where it all turned to horror.

  We were in Rotten House. Everyone was gathered in my room on the third floor. That’s because I’m the only kid in the dorm who has his own room.

  I can’t share. It makes me nervous. Besides, I need plenty of room to plot and scheme.

  “Bernie, why did you call a truce? We can’t quit,” Feenman said. “We can’t give up so easily.”

  “We can build our own rocket-powered water balloon launcher,” Billy the Brain said. “You know I can build anything. Here, Big B—check this out. This can be our secret weapon.”

  He walked to the bed and woke up Gassy, my big bulldog. He tugged Gassy to his feet.

  “Billy, that’s my dog,” I said. “How can he help us beat Nyce House?”

  “Squeeze him,” Billy said. He pushed me over to the dog. “Go ahead. Squeeze him.”

  “Are you NUTS?” Crench cried. “Don’t squeeze him. The dog STINKS!”

  “How do you think he got the name Gassy?” I said.

  Billy tugged me over to the fat bulldog. “Go ahead. Squeeze his stomach.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said. I reached down and wrapped my hands around my sweet dog’s middle. I gave him a hard squeeze—and water shot out of his butt!

  “I turned him into a squirt gun,” Billy said. “The Nyce House dudes will never expect it! You’ll take ’em totally by surprise.”

  I squeezed Gassy again. Another stream of water shot across the room.

  “Dude, that’s pretty clever,” I said. “I like it. But…you’re too late.”

  The guys all stared at me. “Too late?” Belzer asked.

  I nodded. “Sherman is on his way over here,” I said. “He agreed to the truce. I told him Nyce House won.”

  “But, Bernie—” Feenman cried. “The war was just beginning. It’s too early to surrender.”

  “Shh.” I raised a finger to my lips. “I hear footsteps. Coming up the stairs.”

  We hurried out to the hall and listened for a few seconds.

  “It’s Sherman,” I whispered, peering down the stairs.

  “Bernie—don’t give up the fight,” Feenman whispered.

  “We can beat them,” Crench said.

  “Sssshhhh!” I hushed them again. I could hear Sherman stop to take a breath on the second floor. Now he was starting up the stairs again.

  Closer…one more step…then one more…I counted silently to myself. I waited until he made it to the eighth step. Then I reached up and grabbed the heavy rope I’d stretched along the ceiling.

  I gave it a hard tug.

  I’d timed it perfectly. The giant water balloon perched over the eighth step crashed down on Sherman’s head.

  I heard a startled scream. The splash of cold water.

  He hit the floor. I heard, “Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.”

  I cried, jumping up and down. “Yesss! A direct hit! Bull’s-eye!”

  My buddies jumped to their feet, cheering, clapping, and laughing their heads off.

  Belzer cried. “Bernie B. is still king!”

  We all touched knuckles. Then we did the secret Rotten House Handshake.

  I heard the gurgling sound again. I turned and gazed down the stairwell.

  “Uh-oh—!”

  I gasped in horror. Then I gasped again.

  “Nooooo!” I wailed. “It can’t be! It can’t be!”

  My buddies turned and stared. They saw what I saw.

  It wasn’t Sherman on the stairs. It was Mrs. Heinie!

  Mrs. Heinie on her knees, slipping and sliding on the wet stairs, soaked from head to foot. Mrs. Heinie, swept down the stairs by the water bomb. She stared up at us. Stared up at us and shook her fist.

  “Uh-oh,” Feenman muttered. “Think we’re in trouble now?”

  I let out a long, sad sigh. “Are we in trouble? Does a goose lay eggs in the woods?”

  Chapter 8

  “GOOD-BYE FOREVER!”

  Mrs. Heinie roared up the stairs. She stood over us, dripping water. Her sopping wet hair drooped over her eyes. Water ran down her face. She shook both fists at us.

  “You—you—you—” She made sputtering sounds.

  Finally she brushed her hair back. Mopped her face with one hand. Straightened her drenched housedress.

  Then she went berserk-o.

  “I QUIT!” she screamed. “I—I can’t TAKE it anymore!” She shook both fists in the air. She started pounding the wall with them.

  “I QUIT! I QUIT! I QUIT!”

  Bernie B. to the rescue. Other kids might try to hide when something like this happens. Not the Big B. I knew I could charm her.

  I flashed her my best smile. “Mrs. H., your hair looks lovely when it’s wet,” I said. “The Damp Mop look really suits you. Awesome!”

  “I quit! I quit! I QUIT!”

  The old charm wasn’t working yet. I took a deep breath and tried again. “I love those earrings. Are they new?”

  “I’m not wearing earrings!” she screamed. “I have an infection on my earlobes!” She pounded her fists on the wall some more. “I quit! I’m outta here!”

  “Mrs. H., let me explain what happened,” I said. “We only did it because we LIKE you! It’s just our way of saying what a good sport you are!”

  “HAH!” she cried. Then with a wet swish, she turned and went screaming down the stairs. “I QUIT! I QUIT! GOOD-BYE FOREVER! I QUIT!”

  Chapter 9

  THE UPCHUCK GARDEN

  That didn’t go well. We knew we were in trouble.

  A few minutes later, we heard Headmaster Upchuck’s tiny shoes tapping on the stairs. And then he appeared in front of my door.

  Everyone looks up to Headmaster Upchuck, even though he’s only three feet tall. He’s bald and has very pink skin and tiny black eyes. You could mistake him for a very big rodent, except that he wears a suit.

  “What’s going on here?” he demanded. “This is all your fault—isn’t it, Bernie?”

  I put on my best smile, stepped forward, and shook his little pink hand. “It’s good to see you, sir,” I said. “The guys and I were just saying how you never come visit us.”

  “Shut your piehole,” he said.

  “Very good, sir,” I said, giving him a salute.

  His pink face darkened to red. “I just want to know what happened to Mrs. Heinie.”

  Behind me, Feenman and Crench were trembling. They didn’t want to be kicked out of school. I didn’t like the idea, either.

  “I can explain everything, sir,” I said. “By the way, did you tie that bow tie yourself? That’s brilliant, sir. It’s upside down, but it’s tied so beautifully!”

  “Never mind my tie,” Upchuck growled. “What happened here?”

  “Poor Mrs. Heinie,” I said, lowering my head. “It was a plumbing problem, you see. We don’t like to cause the school janitors any trouble. So we were trying to fix the water pipe in the ceiling by ourselves. And poor Mrs. Heinie just happened to walk under the leaky pipe when—”

  Headmaster Upchuck raised a hand to stop me. “Bernie, let me say to you what I say to my darling, little grandchildren every day.”

  “What’s that, sir?” I asked.

  “Shut your yap.”

  “Yes, sir!” I said, saluting again.

  “Bernie, I know it wasn’t a plumbing problem,” he said. “Sherman Oaks told me about your Water War.”

  I put on my most innocent, wide-eyed face. “Water War, sir? I don’t know what you mean.”

  Upchuck turned to Belzer, who was shaking in a corner. “Belzer, you know about the Water War, don’t you!” he said.

  B
elzer’s chins quivered up and down. “No hablo inglés!” he cried. “No hablo inglés!”

  Whenever Belzer gets scared, he pretends he doesn’t speak English. It’s kinda dumb, but sometimes it works.

  Upchuck let out a growl. He turned back to me. “Sherman told me you started the whole thing, Bernie. What do you have to say about that?”

  “It wasn’t me, sir,” I said. “I’m allergic to water. I have to stay dry at all times. Even when I take a shower.”

  Upchuck pointed at my school blazer. “Bernie, are you going to tell me that that flower on your lapel doesn’t squirt water?”

  “Of course not,” I said. I fingered the yellow daisy on my blazer lapel. “I love flowers, sir. Everyone knows that about me. I’m planting a flower garden, and I’m naming it after you, sir. The Upchuck Garden.”

  Was he buying it? No.

  He stared at the daisy on my jacket. “It’s a squirting flower. I know it is,” he muttered.

  “No way,” I insisted.

  “No hablo inglés!” Belzer said again.

  Headmaster Upchuck stepped forward. He reached out to squeeze my flower.

  I was too fast for him. I backed away. But, whoa—! Look out! I tripped over Gassy. A gusher of water sprayed from the dog’s butt—and hit Upchuck right between the eyes!

  “Uh…I can explain that, sir,” I said.

  “NO, YOU CAN’T!” he screamed. He wiped water from his face. “Bernie, I know how to take care of you and your pals! You’re doomed. DOOMED!”

  “Surely you don’t mean that, sir,” I said. “We all know you have a great sense of humor. You can take a joke—right?”

  “Ha-ha-ha,” Upchuck said. “I’m going to be laughing, okay. I’m going to be laughing when you get your new teacher! Ha-ha-ha.”

  He turned and started down the stairs. And that’s when the second water balloon fell from the ceiling.

  It plopped onto his head, flattened him to the stairs, and drenched him under a foot of cold water. The poor little guy was kicking and sputtering and swearing and swimming for his life.