Dumb Clucks (7 page)

Friday night. The Nyce House party in the gym was already underway.

My buddies and I crept up to the back doors of the gym. What did we plan to do?

Crash the party.

Crash the party with our chickens.

Five dollars. That's what it cost my friends to buy their very own chickens.

A great price. What would you pay to ruin a Nyce House party?
Any
amount, right?

So Bernie B. ended up with a drawer full of cash
for Parents' Day snacks.

And now, my Rotten House friends carried each of their chickens proudly. Hugging them tightly to their chests to keep them quiet.

I pulled open the door to the gym. Loud, thumping music and a roar of voices poured out.

Silently we carried our little surprises into the gym. This was a night the Drastic Duck dudes would never forget.

A hundred squawking, flapping, pecking chickens could ruin
any
party.

The war was about to be won. The Nyce House dudes would learn a new word tonight—
defeat
.

Calm and quiet would be the rule from now on.

And Headmaster Upchuck would thank me for a job well done.

Hugging our chickens, we crept along the back wall of the gym. In the center of the floor, kids danced and joked and hung out.

I gazed around at the decorations. Paintings of Drastic Duck on the walls. Streamers in Drastic Duck colors—gray and dark gray. Clusters of gray and dark gray Drastic Duck balloons.

I waited for the right moment. The moment the music stopped.

“Okay,” I said. And I raised my hand high. The signal to let the chickens go.

With a cry of, “Stupid Chicken Rules!” my buddies tossed their chickens high into the air.

 

AWWWWWWWWK!

SQUAWWWWWWWWK!

 

What a racket. The chickens squawked their heads off. And flapped furiously.

Then they hit the floor, running in wild, crazy circles. Flapping their wings. Sliding on the gym floor.

 

AWWWWWWWWK!

SQUAWWWWWWWWK!

BLUUUUUUCK!

 

The flapping chickens scuttled toward the kids in
the center of the floor. Some kids cried out. They backed away.

That's when I saw the cages against the wall. A long row of gray cages.

What were in those cages?

I saw Sherman and his pals running to the cages. They were pulling open the cage doors.

And I suddenly had a very bad feeling.

How could I know that the Nyce House guys would bring a hundred
ducks
to their party?

I guess the ducks were part of the decorations. Or maybe they were party favors.

Anyway, it wasn't good news.

The ducks came honking out of their cages. They flapped their wings and snapped their bills. And zoomed straight at the squawking chickens.

What can I say?

Feathers flew.

Kids backed against the four walls, staring in horror as a REAL war took place!

 

HONNNNNK! HONNNNNK!

 

SQUAWWWWWK!

ULLLLP!

 

Those animals knew how to make a racket.

Flapping and screeching and honking and squawking. Until even I had to hold my hands over my ears.

I saw two ducks fly out the gym window. A chicken scrambled out the open door. Two more chickens followed.

The animals were
escaping
onto the campus.

And of course, that's when Headmaster Upchuck decided to pay a visit to the party.

 

HONNNNNK!

HONNNNNK!

SQUAWWWWWK!

 

I waited for the look of horror on his face. He
did
turn bright red. But he wasn't scowling or gasping or shrieking.

He was GRINNING.

“Bernie, thank you! Thank you!” he cried. He stepped over a chicken and hurried up to me.

“You don't have to thank me, sir,” I said.

“Oh, but I do!” said the Headmaster. His grin grew so wide, it covered his eyes! “Thank you for
finally
giving me a good reason to say bye-bye, Bernie!”

“But—but—”

“You're outta here!” he screamed. “I
knew
you'd fail! I'm booting you out, Bernie! Out of this school! Oh, happy day! You're going home!”

And he did cartwheels from one end of the gym to the other.

“But, sir—” I chased after him.

Kids were screaming and running after the chickens and ducks. I saw Joe Sweety wrestling with two ducks. They had him pinned to the floor. But he was putting up a good fight.

Across the floor, Beast grinned at me. He had chicken feathers stuck to his teeth.

Uh-oh.

Even Beast wouldn't eat a
live
chicken—would he?

Ducks flew out the windows. Kids struggled to catch chickens and shove them into the duck cages.

I ran across the gym to Headmaster Upchuck. I knew I could talk my way out of this one, if he gave me a chance.

I decided to play innocent. “Sir, I don't understand what I did wrong.”

He tossed back his bald head and laughed. “Wrong? Wrong? Do you remember the words CALM and QUIET? I gave you an assignment, Bernie. I didn't ask you to turn my school into a
petting zoo
!”

“I know, sir, but—”

“Let me repeat. Your job was to keep this campus calm and quiet,” Upchuck continued. “And to raise money for the Parents' Day refreshments tomorrow.”

My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?
Tomorrow
?”

Upchuck scowled. “When the parents get here tomorrow, they'll think they're in a BARNYARD!”

“B-but, sir—” I sputtered.

“The school is RUINED!” Upchuck shrieked. “RUINED! And it's all your fault, Bernie!”

Most kids would feel bad after hearing an angry speech like that. Most kids would lower their heads in shame. Or maybe start to cry. Or beg the Headmaster for mercy.

Not Bernie B. Not a Hall of Famer.

I flashed Upchuck my best grin.

“Actually, sir,” I said, “I think you should congratulate me.”

“Huh?” A chicken landed on his head. He batted it away.

“You should congratulate me for saving the school,” I told him. “Actually, you might call me a HERO!”

Another chicken landed on him. I think they wanted to hatch his bald head!

He batted the chicken away. “You? A hero?” he cried. “Look at this place! Look what you've done in time for Parents' Day! You're a disgrace! A DISGRACE! How can YOU be a hero?”

My grin grew wider. “Sir,” I said, “I forgot to mail out the invitations!”