The Teacher from Heck (2 page)

He glared at me. “You're ALMOST late to class.”

“Almost?” I whimpered. “
Almost
late?”

Was this dude a little
weird
?

Mr. Skruloose pointed to the floor in front of me. “Soldier, drop down and give me ten,” he ordered.

“Soldier? But my name is Bernie!”

He pointed to the floor. “Drop down and give me ten.”

I blinked. “Ten
what
?”

“Soldier, give me ten push-ups.”

“I was afraid of that,” I said. I turned to my friend
Belzer at the next desk. “Belzer,” I whispered, “drop down and give him ten push-ups for me.”

“No problem,” Belzer said.

Where would I be without good ol' Belzer?

The kid does
everything
for me. Brings me breakfast in bed…carries my backpack to class…It took
weeks
to put Belzer through his obedience-training. But it was worth it.

Belzer hit the floor and began straining to push his chunky body up. “One…uh…one and a half…one and three-quarters…”

“GET UP!” Mr. Skruloose boomed at Belzer. Two of his blazer buttons popped off and flew across the room. He gave me a cold stare. “In my class we do
our own
push-ups,” he snarled.

I had no choice. I dropped to the floor. “It's kinda dusty down here, sir,” I said. “Maybe I'd better not do this. Dust always makes me sneeze.”

he roared again. “Give me ten!”

“Could we compromise on
three
?” I asked.

He didn't answer in words. Just growled.

I took that for a no. I dropped down and started giving him ten.

Skruloose marched back to his desk. Some kids saluted him, and he saluted back.

From down on the floor, I saw Sherman Oaks jump up from his seat in the front row. His parents pay extra so he can always sit in the front row. And they bought him a leopard-skin pillow to put on his chair so his butt doesn't get tired. I
told
you Sherman is a spoiled, rich brat.

Sherman walked up to Skruloose and pressed a few hundred-dollar bills into his hand. “Just a welcome present from me and my friends in Nyce House,” Sherman said.

Sherman's blue eyes twinkled. He handed Mr. Skruloose a shiny, silver pen. “That's another gift for you. You can use it to write down my name. For when you make the Honor Roll list. It's Sherman Oaks.”

Mr. Skruloose crinkled up the hundred-dollar bills
and shoved them into Sherman's mouth. “Are you trying to bribe me, soldier?” he boomed.

“MMMMPH-MMMMPH,” Sherman replied.

“You might want to write down
my
name,” Skruloose said. “My name is Mr. Skruloose.
No one
from my class ever makes the Honor Roll. I don't
believe
in giving good grades.”

Sherman swallowed the hundred-dollar bills with a loud
gulp
. “You—you can't do this!” he sputtered. “I'm TOO RICH and too HANDSOME to be treated this way!”

I think that made Skruloose angry. His eyes bulged out of his head, he gritted his teeth, and his face turned the color of a tomato. He waved his meaty fists in the air.

Sherman took the hint. Shaking his head, he slunk back to his seat.

“NINE…TEN!” I shouted. I climbed into my seat. Actually, I only did two push-ups—but no one was looking.

Skruloose turned to the class. He loosened his school tie. Even his Adam's apple had muscles!

“Listen up, soldiers. I'm just a farm boy,” he said.
“I come from Heck, Indiana. I guess you could call me The Teacher from Heck.”

A few kids snickered at that. I groaned.

“But you'd better
not
call me that,” Skruloose said. “I don't allow jokes in my classroom. And here are a few other things that I don't allow…”

He pulled out a long list and started to read:

“No glancing from side to side. No burping. No yawning. No blinking.

“No pencil-tapping on desks. No eraser-chewing.

“No sneezing. Always breathe through
both
nostrils.

“Never come
almost
late to class…”

I shook my head. I suddenly knew how to spell Skruloose…
N-U-T-S!

No lie—he really
was
The Teacher from Heck!

How did this HAPPEN to us?

How did we lose Mrs. Heinie and get the toughest teacher in the world?

Well…it started a few days ago. It was all because of the Water War.

The Water War was on full blast. It was Rotten House against Nyce House in the wettest squirt-gun war in history. No one was safe. No one was
dry
!

We all walked around school totally soaked. Water dripped down our faces. Our wet sneakers squeaked on the floors.

Of course our teacher, Mrs. Heinie, didn't have a clue.

There are NO SQUIRT GUNS ALLOWED at the Rotten School.

So how did we have a squirt-gun war?

We had to be clever. And quick.

Every time Mrs. Heinie turned her back in class, someone got hit full blast in the face.

One day she was standing at the chalkboard making a list. “Now, who can tell me about the tomato?” she asked, squinting at us through her thick glasses. “Is the tomato a fruit or a vegetable?”

“It's a planet!” Wes Updood called out. “It revolves around the third moon of Vesuvio!”

Wes Updood is the coolest guy in school. But he's on a planet of his own. Maybe he comes from the Tomato Planet. No one can understand a word he says.

Mrs. Heinie shook her head. “Sorry, Wes, it's not a planet,” she said. “Can anyone tell me about the tomato? Fruit or vegetable?”

Billy the Brain raised his hand. Billy knows everything.

“Actually,” he said, “the tomato isn't a fruit
or
a vegetable. It's a kind of potato.”

Mrs. Heinie let out a long sigh. She turned to the chalkboard and wrote
tomato
in the
Fruit
column.

As soon as she turned her back, we went to work.

I raised my watch, squeezed it, and squirted Sherman Oaks in the face with a spray of water. Wes Updood hiked up his belt buckle, squeezed it, and sprayed my pal Crench in the chest.

Crench pulled out his squirting MP3 player. He aimed a spray of water at Wes—missed—and hit the wall.

Kids laughed and cheered.

At the back of the room, I saw my friend Beast go to work. We call the guy Beast because we don't know if he's human or not. He's very furry for a human. And sometimes he bites if you make him angry.

Mrs. Heinie keeps him on a leash. But he's a good dude.

Beast picked up a bottle of water and squeezed the water into his mouth. Then he tilted his head up and spit a gusher of water over half the room.

Kids ducked and screamed.

Mrs. Heinie turned around and squinted through her thick glasses. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

“No. No problem,” I said. I was mopping my desk with a towel.

“How about lettuce?” Mrs. Heinie asked. “Come on, class. Is lettuce a fruit or a vegetable?”

Billy the Brain raised his hand again. “Lettuce is actually an animal,” he said. “That's because it has a head.”

Sometimes I wonder about Billy the Brain. Maybe he needs a new nickname. Like Billy the Idiot.

Mrs. Heinie took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. I pulled out my squirting pencil and gave Sherman a shot in the face.

Billy the Brain made all our secret squirting things. Thanks to him, just about
everything we own
squirts water!

Mrs. Heinie sighed and put her glasses back on. “People, the lettuce is
not
an animal,” she said. “Does anyone—”

She stopped. She walked over to Billy the Brain, who sat at the end of the second row. She had her eyes on the laptop on Billy's desk.

Uh-oh.

“You brought your laptop,” Mrs. Heinie said. “Good. Let's look up
lettuce
and see what it says.”

She reached for the laptop.

“No. Please—” Billy said. But he wasn't fast enough.

Mrs. Heinie leaned down. She started to type—and the laptop blasted her in the face with cold water!

Water splashed her glasses, ran down her cheeks, and drenched her sweater. She staggered back until she hit the wall. “What's going
on
here?” she shrieked.

Billy shrugged. “I've been having problems with my laptop,” he said. “Why does it keep
doing
that?”

 

At lunch in the Dining Hall, Billy the Brain leaned over the table and whispered to me. “I have a new idea for a squirting weapon,” he said. “Can you get me a lettuce?”

A squirting lettuce? Yeah, it sounds kinda dumb. But you can see the dude is always thinking, thinking,
thinking
!

Sherman and his Nyce House geeks were winning the Water War. My guys were dripping wet from morning to night. We needed to be clever. We needed some new ideas.

I took a bite of my salami sandwich. A shadow fell over the table. I looked up to see Joe Sweety hulking over me.

We call him The Big >Sweety. But not to his face. Joe is the biggest,
meanest kid at Rotten School. He lives in Nyce House and is Sherman Oaks's good buddy.

Is Joe tough? Well, once I saw him punch out a tree because it wouldn't get out of his way.

“What's up, Sweety?” I said. “Had enough water battles? Did you come over to surrender?”

He didn't say anything. He just leaned over our table.

“HEY—!”

We all screamed as a powerful stream of water came shooting out of his nose.
Both nostrils!

He soaked Feenman's pizza slice and my salami sandwich. Then he stood up, dried his nose with a tissue, and started to walk back to the Nyce House table.

“Hey, Sweety—that was
awesome
! How'd you do that?” Billy called.

Sweety turned around. He had a big grin on his meaty
face. “You losers should surrender,” he said. “Sherman's parents bought us high-tech squirting weapons.”

“What kind of weapons?” I asked.

“We've got
digital
squirters,” Sweety bragged. “Our noses are hooked up to hidden water tanks. You guys can't win!”

He tilted his head back. Water shot out of his nose and sprayed our table again.

“Ooh, we're scared. We're scared,” I said, pretending to shake and quake. “You've got us shaking.” I burst out laughing.

“Just wait. You won't be laughing when you're swimming for your lives!” The Big Sweety shouted.

What did he mean by that?

I took off my glasses, squeezed them—and shot water at Joe Sweety. I hit him in the front of his pants—in a very embarrassing place.

He looked down. Saw his wet pants. Shook a huge fist at me. And went running from the Dining Hall.

“Way to go, Big B!” Feenman and Crench both slapped me on the back.

But I didn't feel like celebrating. We were losing the war—big-time. How could we win against digital nose-squirters?

And I couldn't stop thinking about Joe Sweety's words…

“
You won't be laughing when you're swimming for your lives….”

What were those Nyce House dudes planning?