Fart Squad (7 page)

“Touché.” Walter put on his crash helmet. “So what do we do now?”

“Just what Stan trained us to do,” Darren said firmly, his mind made up. “The Fart Squad needs to go into action!” He realized now that the canny janitor had been right all along. “From great farts come mighty winds!”

He held out the tray of greasy burritos.

“Eat up!”

T
he Fart Squad refueled in a hurry. Tina and Juan-Carlos scarfed down a burrito each, while Walter somehow managed to polish off two in the same amount of time. “I must say,” he said with his mouth full, “I'm developing a real taste for these succulent morsels.”

“Just hurry up and swallow,” Darren said. “Harry and B.O. could be digging up the Scratcher at this very moment!”

Tina emitted an oddly delicate burp. “I'm ready if you are.”

“Me, too,” Juan-Carlos said, patting his stomach. “Let's kick some Buttz!”

They raced down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Darren heard banging noises and cussing down below. They rushed into the basement in time to see Harry Buttz lifting a package from a freshly dug hole in the basement floor. The B.O. twins stood nearby, sweating
heavily, which made them smell even worse. Bertha gripped a shovel with both hands. Oscar held a sledgehammer. And was that a jackhammer in the corner?

“Finally!” Harry exclaimed. “I found it!” He held up a battered wooden chest about a foot long. He fumbled with a rusty latch, trying to pry it open.

“Put that back where it belongs, Harry!” Darren shouted. “It's too dangerous to mess with!”

Harry was startled by the interruption. “You again, Stonkadopolis?” He spotted the rest of the Fart Squad as well. “And you brought friends?”

“We can't let you use the Scratcher,” Darren said. “It's too dangerous!”

“Try and stop me,” Harry said, sneering. He nodded at B.O. “Keep them away from me, and I'll buy you all the computer games you want!”

“No problem, Number Two,” Bertha said.

“Don't call me that!”

“Sorry!”

She swung the shovel at Walter, who farted in alarm. A burst of hot air shot him up to the ceiling so that the shovel passed harmlessly beneath him.
Bertha's eyes bugged out in surprise. “Huh?”

Clutching his precious package, Harry darted toward a fire exit at the rear of the basement. Darren hesitated, torn between chasing after him and staying behind to help the Squad deal with B.O.

Could the rest of the Fart Squad take care of themselves?

Tina and Juan-Carlos faced off against Bertha and Oscar, who snickered at their seemingly unimpressive opponents.

“Seriously? A little girl and a clown?” Bertha jeered. “Is this a joke?”

Tina smiled slyly. “That depends,” she said politely.

“On what?” Berta said, scowling.

“On who gets the last laugh.”

Tina didn't seem to do anything but just stand there primly, but a powerful odor hit Bertha without warning. The looming bully toppled backward into the hole in the floor.

“One down,” Tina said.

“Sis!” Oscar cried out, suddenly finding himself
outnumbered. He raised his sledgehammer nervously. “What did you do to her?”

Tina shrugged. “Who said I did anything?”

Oscar chickened out. He bolted for the stairs. “Get out of my way, you freaks!”

Juan-Carlos darted aside to let him pass, but, just as Oscar thought the way was clear, a stink bomb went off on the stairs, knocking him backward down the steps. He moaned at the foot of the stairs, all the fight banged out of him.

Darren grinned at Juan-Carlos. “Nice timing.”

“I'm working on it,” he said. “Now let's go get that Scratcher.”

A voice from the ceiling called down to them.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Walter said. “I wouldn't mind a little help getting down from here!”

Darren hesitated again. Harry was getting away. . . .

“Don't worry about Walter,” Tina called out to Darren. “We'll help him out. You go after Harry.”

“Yeah,” Juan-Carlos chimed in. “Get that magic butt thingy back before we're all scratching ourselves like crazy!”

Darren trusted his squad to get Walter down from the ceiling.

Then he took off after Harry . . . and the Golden Scratcher!

D
arren chased Harry out of the basement and up three flights of stairs. Huffing and puffing, Harry ran out onto the rooftop playground and slammed the door shut behind him. Darren grabbed the doorknob, but it refused to budge. A harsh odor seeped from the other side of the door. Darren recognized it right away.

Superglue! Couldn't Harry at least have come up with something new this time?

Harry had glued the lock shut, but that wasn't going to stop Darren. He turned around
and let loose with a volcanic
blatt
that melted the lock and blew down the door. Steam rose from the back of his trousers.

“Okay, that's more like it,” he said, his butt still smarting from the eruption. “I had that one under control. Almost.”

He rushed onto the roof just in time to see Harry pry open the lid of the wooden chest and reach inside for the Golden Scratcher. About a foot long, the gleaming instrument had curved metal claws at one end, all the better for scratching a persistent itch.

“Yes!” Harry gloated. “I can finally cure my itch!”

“Don't do it, Harry,” Darren shouted. “I know about the curse, but it's too risky. You read the book. The Scratcher can't handle one more itch!”

“I don't care!” Harry snarled. “Stay out of this, Stonkadopolis. I told you before, this is
none of your business. Get lost!”

“Your buddies made it my business when they stole my lunch,” Darren said.

“Those morons were supposed to take
all
the lunches, so that everyone would eat those disgusting burritos, but then you and your nerdy buddy had to interfere so that I only got four measly lunches.
Everybody
was supposed to be farting like crazy, not just you and a few other kids. I wanted the whole school shut down!”

Darren stalled some more. “So then you tried again. . . .”

“Yes! The next time the burritos were on the menu. And now the Scratcher belongs to me!”

Darren tried to reason with Harry.

“That was buried for a reason, remember? The
Scratcher can't take any more. If it blows, you could curse the whole town with itchy butts like yours!”

“So what?” Harry said. “It would serve everybody right for laughing at me all these years.” He waved the Scratcher at Darren like a weapon. “Don't even try to talk me out of this. I've been waiting for this moment for too long!”

Before Darren could stop him, Harry reached around and put the Scratcher to use. A look of supreme relief came over his face.

“Oh my goodness!” he exclaimed. “It's working! It's killing the itch!”

Darren hoped that would be the end of it, but no such luck. After a few moments, an eerie glow lit up behind Harry, and the Scratcher started humming and throwing off sparks. Visibly frightened, Harry yanked the Scratcher away from his rear. More sparks flew.

“Uh-oh,” he said sheepishly.

Darren resisted the temptation to say “I told you so.”

The Golden Scratcher was glowing brighter and brighter, like a nuclear power plant running out of control. Darren could tell it was too late to bury it again. The Scratcher had reached its limit and was about to burst. Generations of Buttz itches were going to spill over the entire town—unless Darren could use his farts for good!

“Throw it away!” Darren shouted at Harry. “Hurry!”

Panicked, Harry hurled the sparking Scratcher away from him. It arced through the air.

“Watch out, Number Two!” Darren shouted.

“Don't call me that!”

Using every bit of energy in his gut, Darren blasted the flying Scratcher with a fiery ball of gas that completely incinerated it. All that was left was ashes—and a charred hole at the back of Darren's pants.

“Yikes!” Harry backed away, trembling.

The rest of the squad came rushing onto the roof. Darren half expected to see Bertha and Oscar
chasing after them, but those two were nowhere in sight. “You take care of you-know-who?” he asked, pinching his nose to represent the smelly twins.

“Naturally,” Juan-Carlos said. “Everyone knows that farts are stronger than B.O.”

Tina looked around. “What happened to the Scratcher?”

“It's toast,” Darren said. “Mission accomplished.”

“Way to go, dude.” Juan-Carlos high-fived him. “You're on fire. Get it?”

Tina groaned. “Yes, JC, we get it. We
always
get it.”

Sirens blared below as police cars and fire engines converged on the school.

“Time to retreat!” Darren decided. He looked Walter over. “You think you can airlift all of us?”

“Absolutely.” Walter fished a cold burrito from his pocket and stuffed his face. He swelled up like a hot-air balloon and started to lift off from the ground. Darren and Juan-Carlos grabbed his legs just in time. Tina scrambled onto his back and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck. “Hold on
tight!” Walter said. “Prepare for takeoff!”

A tremendous fart blasted them all into the air. Walter zoomed off the roof, carrying the rest of the Squad with him. Within seconds, they were far away from Harry Buttz Elementary and the wailing fire engines. All of Buttzville stretched out below them.

“Yes!” Darren whooped. “We did it!”

Maybe this Fart Squad thing was going to be a lot of fun after all.