The Teacher from Heck (4 page)

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?”

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!”

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.

Belzer'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.

I bent down to help him up. “I can explain, sir,” I said.

But even the great Bernie B. couldn't talk his way out of this one.

And the next day, Headmaster Upchuck had his revenge. Mr. Skruloose, The Teacher from Heck, appeared….