Sweet Farts #3: Blown Away (Sweet Farts Series) Read online

  Other books by Raymond Bean

  Sweet Farts #1

  Sweet Farts #2: Rippin’ It Old-School

  Sweet Farts #3

  Blown Away

  Sweet Farts #3

  Blown Away

  RAYMOND BEAN

  Visit www.raymondbean.com

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.

  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2010, Raymond Bean

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by AmazonEncore

  P.O. Box 400818

  Las Vegas, NV 89140

  ISBN: 978-1-61218-251-3

  Interior illustrations by Ben Gibson

  Author photo by D. Weaver

  For Stacy, Ethan, and Chloe.

  Also, for Baba, who would do anything for us.

  Contents

  1. I’m Keith Emerson, and I Just Farted!

  2. I Want Boogers

  3. No More School for the Guy in the Dress

  4. Uprising

  5. A Gabilliony Dollars

  6. Good Morning, Big Boy

  7. The Kilt

  8. Roland the Farter

  9. IQ Test

  10. Emma’s Lab

  11. Liver Canes

  12. Scott-tacular

  13. Singing Insult-o-gram

  14. Career Week

  15. Sneak Attack

  16. Thanks, Alfred Binet

  17. Breakdown

  18. They Fart All the Time

  19. Back to the Lab Already!

  20. The Clock Is Ticking

  21. Poop Field

  22. Let’s Go!

  23. Someone Made a Poop in the Van

  24. The Blue-ringed Octopus

  25. We Might Be Lame

  26. Leave It to the Guys

  27. Almost There

  28. Rise of the Emmpire

  29. Passing the Torch

  30. The Helen Winifred Show No. 2

  31. Fart Me Out to the Ball Game

  32. All Hail the Queen

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  I’m Keith Emerson, and I Just Farted!

  I finished the last bite of my very first square apple and threw it into the woods.

  “Wow, that was delicious,” I shouted to Scott.

  I was sitting in the dugout of the Sweet Farts, Incorporated, private baseball field. Scott was out at third base fielding balls from the new practice machine we created. We had taken a pitching machine and changed it around a bit so it shot ground balls, line drives, and pop-ups to the person in the field. It also turned to the left and the right so you never knew which way the ball was going to come at you. It was pretty awesome. Scott and I had sent the idea to the Yankees in hopes that they would order a few for their infield practice. They didn’t.

  “What?” Scott shouted as he dove for a line drive.

  I walked out onto the field and shut off the machine. Scott was lying on the ground with infield dirt all over him.

  “I said, those square apples are delicious. Have you had one yet?”

  “Yeah, your grandma gave me one yesterday when I was working in my lab. They’re awesome. I still can’t understand why she gave that whole idea away.”

  “She didn’t give it away; she’s just donating the profits. She decided that the money her Square Fruit business was making was better spent on people who really needed it. She has it set up where the money goes to like five or six different charities.”

  “That’s really nice and all, but she could have kept just a little, or I don’t know,” Scott smiled, “given it to me.”

  “That’s my grandma. She’s always thinking of everyone else. I think it’s pretty cool. You know a lot of the money that Sweet Farts makes goes to charity, too?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Scott said from the ground. “I know. You’re a good boy, Keith. What I’d like to know is how I can become one of your charities. I could use a little more coin in my bank account.”

  “You kind of already are one of my charities.”

  “That hurts, Keith. That really hurts. You know, after my last experiment, I’m a little worried that Mr. Gonzalez is getting tired of me working at the lab.”

  Scott was right to be worried. His last experiment didn’t exactly blow Mr. Gonzalez away. We were given several months to work on an idea for the fall science fair, but Scott had waited until the last minute. The morning of the fair, he had simply filled a two-liter soda bottle with colored water, and then taped another soda bottle to the top so the openings touched. It was the classic last-minute science fair project: tornado in a bottle.

  “Here comes Mr. Gonzalez now. Let’s ask him how he feels about you.”

  “Don’t!”

  Mr. Gonzalez was walking toward us. It was kind of funny seeing him out on the ball field in a suit. He usually stayed in the lab.

  “Don’t say a word,” Scott said. “I don’t think he’s forgiven me for the tornado in a bottle.” Scott rushed to his feet and wiped the dust from his clothes.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Mr. Gonzalez said. “I am very happy to see that you are both enjoying this wonderful day while the rest of us work in the lab. You two have to meet with Mr. Stuart in the development lab in about fifteen minutes. He needs to know what new Sweet Farts scents you will be putting out this summer. The tablets are selling well, but people are getting tired of the same old scents. We have too many obvious fruit and flower scents, like Tangerine, Grape, Pickles, and Summer Rose. Let’s try to think up something more interesting.”

  My phone buzzed. It was another video message from Anthony. For his last science project he’d figured out a number pattern that allowed him to predict and win the lottery. His mom bought the winning ticket using the numbers he chose, and his family left for a trip around the world with all the money they had won. He had been sending me messages pretty much every day since they left. I shook my head and put my phone back in my pocket.

  “Who was that?” Mr. Gonzalez asked.

  “Let me guess,” Scott said.

  “Yep,” I said, “that’s why I didn’t answer it.”

  “Who was it?” Mr. Gonzalez asked again.

  “It’s Anthony. He’s been driving me nuts ever since he left on his trip.”

  “But he’s been out of the country for months,” Mr. Gonzalez said.

  “He’s been sending me messages from people he’s met on his trip. They’re basically teasing me in other languages. He’s also doing ridiculous things and saying he’s me. He sent a video the other day that I couldn’t believe.”

  “What was he doing?” Scott asked.

  “Don’t ask me how he did it,” I said, “but somehow he had a mask of my face made. The video showed him wearing the mask in what looked like some kind of fancy museum. There were people everywhere, and the place was dead quiet. He ripped one so loud that everyone around him turned and shot him The Look.

  “At that moment he put his hands over his eyes and ran out shouting, ‘I’m sorry I farted; my name is Keith Emerson.’”

  Mr. Gonzalez chuckled a little. “I’ll give it to the kid. He’s creative.”

  Scott was amused, too, but didn’t dare say anything with Mr. Gonzalez standing there.

  “He’s driving me crazy,” I said. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you about him.
I was hoping some time apart would help, but even with an ocean between us, he manages to pick on me constantly.”

  “Keith, we’ve talked about this before. Anthony has trouble showing people he cares about them in an appropriate way. It will get better over time.”

  “I don’t think so, and I’m not interested in ‘things getting better over time.’ I want to kick him out of the company when he gets back from his trip.”

  “Really?” Scott asked. “I was just kidding when I said I wanted some of your money, Keith. Please don’t fire me!” He put his hands together like he was praying.

  “You’re my best friend. I’m not going to fire you. I do want to fire Anthony, though,” I said.

  “I understand that Anthony is a handful, but he has a place in this company. He’s very smart when he takes things seriously. Sometimes we learn the most from the people who challenge us. If I allowed myself to avoid every difficult personality I met, I would never have accomplished all of the things I have in my life. Besides, if you recall, you are the one who hired him in the first place,” Mr. Gonzalez replied.

  “I know, but that was a mistake. The only thing I’m learning from Anthony is how to be mean.”

  “Maybe you need to learn to stand up for yourself better,” Mr. Gonzales suggested.

  “I do stand up for myself,” I insisted.

  “Like I said, maybe you need to learn how to do it better. Now, I need you two sluggers to clean up and go meet Mr. Stuart about those new scents.” He flashed me a smile and started to turn away.

  “But, Mr. Gonzalez, I thought you put me in charge of Sweet Farts. If the company is mine, how come I can’t fire Anthony?”

  He turned back to face me again, “Sorry, Keith. I make the final decisions around here. Sweet Farts is your company, but it’s part of my laboratory. I’ve said it before: in many ways, you guys are my own experiment.”

  CHAPTER 2

  I Want Boogers

  “We can’t make farts smell like salami, Emma,” I said, laughing. We had been at the development lab for a couple of hours, and we were getting a little crazy. We were supposed to have figured out what the new Sweet Farts scents were going to be days before. Mr. Stuart, the scientist assigned to help us, was not pleased. Grandma checked her watch for the second time and then searched her purse for her car keys.

  Emma and Scott had the giggles. And when Emma gets the giggles, it makes everyone around her start laughing, too.

  “Okay,” she said, trying to catch her breath, “how about pastrami?” She struggled to hold back her laughter and look serious at the same time. “Or BOOGERS!”

  This made me laugh harder than before, and Scott was cracking up so bad he seemed to have stopped breathing. After a big breath, he squeaked out, “Boogers don’t have a smell.”

  “Okay, Emm,” Grandma finally said, taking her keys from her purse. “I think that’s enough work…and junk food for one day. We can talk about your interesting ideas on our way home. What do you say?”

  “No way! More candy is the right thing, Grandma,” Emma argued, again trying to sound serious.

  “It’s time to go, Sugar Pie. I think you’ve done enough for one day.”

  For most of the meeting, Emma had insisted on naming only lunchmeats as new scents for Sweet Farts. She’d suggested Roast Beef (but wanted to call it Roast the Beast), Olive Loaf, Smoked Turkey, Pastrami, Salami, and a bunch more. Basically, she named everything she could remember from the deli counter. At one point she suggested that one of the new scents should be Ham.

  Scott’s ideas were just as random and even more ridiculous. He came up with names like Slap Shot, Grand Slam, and Three Pointer. I kept explaining to him that those were sports terms and didn’t have a smell. Neither of them seemed to get it. After Emma suggested Boogers as a scent, Scott had followed it up with Field Goal. I shook my head in disbelief and looked to my grandma for some help.

  “I like them all,” she said, giving me a smirk and jingling her keys playfully in Emma’s direction. Grandma had a way of never getting worked up.

  “Grandma, help me out here. We haven’t come up with a single scent that is actually possible to use for Sweet Farts,” I pleaded. I could feel Mr. Stuart glaring at me from across the table.

  Emma stood up. “BOOGERS! BOOGERS! I INSIST ON BOOGERS!” She was out of her mind on sugar. She had eaten cotton candy and three donuts just since the beginning of the meeting. Mom and Dad were so happy that Emma was eating at all that they let her eat pretty much whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it.

  Emma’s refusal to eat was the inspiration for my last science-fair project. Since then, though, she has been much better about eating all different kinds of foods, even some healthy ones.

  Mr. Stuart finally lost his patience. “Keith, we’ve been in here half the day. You guys only need to come up with four scents. What are they going to be?”

  I tapped my fingers nervously on the table. It was like everything else at the lab, all fun and games for the other kids, but I was the one who had to be mature.

  “Keith?” Mr. Stuart asked again.

  Grandma took Emma by the hand and headed for the door. Emma grabbed a fourth donut on the way out, but Grandma put it back. “We’ll meet you in the car, boys,” Grandma said, licking the icing off her thumb.

  “We’re going to have to get back to you, Mr. Stuart,” I said, standing up. “I’ll have the names of the new scents to you as soon as I can. Things are just a little crazy right now.”

  Scott looked at me and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. We had been given weeks to think of the new scents. With Anthony away, we’d had the place to ourselves. We didn’t have a science project due for the first time since moving into the lab. Without a deadline, I’d finally been able to enjoy how fun the lab actually was. We played basketball and baseball, swam in the indoor pool, played video games, and just hung out. If we weren’t in school, we were in the lab. It was paradise.

  So why can’t I think of four new scents and get it over with? I wondered. I guess I still needed a break from the work of Sweet Farts. The last science fair took more out of me than I thought. I had to admit that as much as I enjoyed doing science, it was nice to just be a regular kid again.

  Mr. Stuart closed the folder in front of him. “If I don’t have the new scents by the end of the week, I’m calling Mr. Gonzalez, and you guys can deal with him.”

  CHAPTER 3

  No More School for the Guy in the Dress

  The party officially ended the next day. I’d known it was only a matter of time until Anthony returned.

  “I’m baaaack,” he announced, marching onto the basketball court at the lab, wearing what I can only describe as a dress. It was about noon, and Scott and I were shooting baskets. “My trip around the world is complete. My genius mind returns to you.” He turned to me. “I know you missed me, Lord of the Farts. I hope you didn’t cry too much,” he said as he held up his hand for a high five. I halfheartedly tried to return it, but he moved his hand out of the way just in time. I shook my head. I should have known better.

  “Scott, I hope you weren’t too bored having to spend your time with the Goozer here.” Anthony had that obnoxious smirk on his face that I’ve grown to really dislike over the years.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Anthony,” I said.

  “What was your trip like?” Scott asked.

  “Completely awesome, thank you for asking. And now that I have returned, I think I should let you guys know right away that I’m not going to school anymore.”

  I didn’t want to hear whatever nonsense Anthony was talking about. I checked the time. We only had a few more minutes until the Sweet Farts meeting started, and I was excited to show off my new meeting room.

  “I’m sure it’s a fascinating story, but we don’t have time to get into it right now. Our meeting is about to start,” I said.

  “Well, welcome home, and might I say that’s a beautiful dress you are wearing, Miss Papas,�
�� Scott said.

  “It’s a sarong. And you would know that if you had ever traveled farther than the mall before. They’re very popular in Thailand.”

  “Well, you look pretty in it,” I said and bowed. It was rare that I actually got the upper hand on Anthony when trading insults.

  “Wow, Keith, that was actually pretty funny. How unlike you. Still, this happens to be the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn. And, dress or no dress, you two geniuses will still have to go to elementary school tomorrow, and the guy in the ‘dress’ will never go to school again.”

  “What do you mean?” Scott asked. “You have to go to school. You’re a kid.”

  “We don’t have time for this right now,” I reminded them.

  Anthony held his hand to his chin like he was thinking. “I might as well just come out and say it. I am going to be home schooled.” He clapped his hands three times loudly and yelled, “ENTER!” A woman, who must have been waiting outside the door, walked in and flashed us a fake smile. She seemed very professional and looked dressed for business. In her hands, she held two large bags full of books. “Meet my tutor, Mrs. Weaver.”

  “Okay, Anthony,” she said, “I let you do that once to show off for your friends, but don’t expect me to agree to that ‘enter’ thing again. I’m going to start setting up. Which way is your lab?”

  Anthony pointed down the hall. “Last door on the left; just follow the smell of chlorine from my private pool.”