Mr. Jack Is a Maniac!

  Dedication

  To Archie and Emi Silverstein

  Contents

  Dedication

  1. The H Word

  2. Mr. Jack Is Cool

  3. Weapons of Mass Destruction

  4. Step Outside

  5. Butt-Kicking Time

  6. Sweet Revenge

  7. The Key to Self-Defense

  8. Intimidation

  9. Don’t Try This at Home

  10. The Emergency

  11. Teamwork

  12. The First Rule of Being a Kid

  About the Author and Illustrator

  Back Ad

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  1

  The H Word

  My name is A.J. and I hate hate.

  Let me explain.

  It was a really nice day, so Dr. Brad, the school counselor, took our class out to the playground to talk. We sat in a circle near the monkey bars. Dr. Brad was telling us how kids need to be nicer to each other.

  “‘Hate’ is not a nice verd,” Dr. Brad told us.* “Vee should try to be kind and tolerant of uzzer people, even if vee don’t like zem so much. Zuh verld vould be a better place if zare vuz less hate, no? So try not to use zat verd.”

  “I hate hate,” I said.

  “I can’t think of anything I hate more than hate,” said Ryan, who will eat anything, even stuff that isn’t food.

  “I hate people who hate people,” said Michael, who never ties his shoes.

  Everybody agreed that they hated hate. Well, everybody except Andrea Young, this annoying girl with curly brown hair.

  “If we shouldn’t hate things,” Andrea said, “then we shouldn’t hate hate. Right?”

  Huh?

  “Yeah, we should like hate,” said her crybaby friend Emily, who agrees with everything Andrea says.

  “But it would be wrong to like hate,” said Neil, who we call the nude kid even though he wears clothes.

  “I hate hate, but I hate hating hate, too,” said Alexia, this girl who rides a skateboard everywhere.

  I thought my head was going to explode. I hate when that happens.

  “Nobody hates hate more than I hate hate,” said Ryan.

  “I hate hate more than you hate hate!” said Michael.

  “You do not!”

  “I do too!”

  They went back and forth like that for a while.

  “Hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate,” everybody was saying.

  “SHTOP ZAYING HATE!” Dr. Brad shouted.

  “But you just said it!” I told him.

  Dr. Brad closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. Did you ever notice that only grown-ups rub their forehead with their fingers? Kids never do that. I guess when you grow up, your forehead gets itchy. Grown-ups are constantly rubbing their forehead with their fingers.

  “Zuh point is,” said Dr. Brad, “vee should try to use zuh H verd less, and love each uzzer more.”

  Everybody started giggling and poking each other with their elbows, because Dr. Brad said the L word. Anytime somebody says “love,” you should start giggling and poking the person next to you with your elbow. That’s the first rule of being a kid.

  “You know vut I mean,” Dr. Brad said. “If you have a disagreement viz somevon, you should try to talk it out instead of fighting about it all zuh time.”

  Dr. Brad got up and we all walked near the woods at the end of the playground. We’re not supposed to play back there. Our principal, Mr. Klutz, once told us that he saw a big, black bear out there one day. He was probably just kidding, but I stay away from the back of the playground anyway, because I don’t want to get attacked by a big, black bear.

  That’s when the most amazing thing in the history of the world happened!

  There was a loud sound in the trees.

  We all turned around.

  And you’ll never believe in a million hundred years what came roaring out of the woods.

  No, it wasn’t a big, black bear.

  Ha! You thought it was a big, black bear, didn’t you? Well, nah-nah-nah boo-boo on you, because it wasn’t. It was a big, black motorcycle. A big, black, loud motorcycle. And it was coming straight at us!

  “Eeek!” shouted all the girls.

  “Run for your life!” shouted Neil the nude kid.

  The big, black motorcycle skidded to a stop right next to Dr. Brad. After the dust cleared, the guy riding the motorcycle took off his helmet. He had deep-blue eyes and long, dark hair. He said only one word.

  “Yo.”

  2

  Mr. Jack Is Cool

  Is “yo” even a word?

  I know that “yo-yo” is a word. I saw this guy at a toy store once who did yo-yo tricks. He could fling the thing above his head, between his legs, and all over the place. Yo-yos are cool.

  Where was I? Oh, yeah, it doesn’t matter if “yo” is a word or not, because the motorcycle guy said it. And if you say it, I guess, it must be a word.

  “Who’s he?” everybody was asking.

  “He’s cool,” said Neil the nude kid.

  “He looks like a movie star!” said Alexia.

  “He’s handsome!” said Andrea.

  “He’s dreamy!” said Emily.

  The motorcycle guy turned off his motorcycle. He was wearing leather pants, leather shoes, a leather belt, and a leather jacket. That guy must really like leather! I wondered how many cows had to die to make his clothes.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a comb. Then he started combing his hair in slow motion. Doing anything in slow motion is cool. I saw this TV show once where they dropped watermelons out of a ten-story building and you could see them hit the ground and explode in slow motion. That was cool.

  “Excuse me, sir,” said Dr. Brad. “May I ask who you are and vut you are doing on school property?”

  The motorcycle guy didn’t say anything for a long time. He just stared at Dr. Brad with his deep-blue eyes.

  “My name is Mr. Jack,” he finally said. “You can call me . . . Mr. Jack.”

  “But your name is Mr. Jack,” said Ryan.

  “I know,” said Mr. Jack. “That’s why you should call me Mr. Jack.”

  “Don’t you want us to call you something instead of Mr. Jack?” asked Michael.

  “No. Why?” asked Mr. Jack.

  “When people say ‘You can call me,’ that usually means we should call them something different from their regular name,” I told him.

  “Not this time,” said Mr. Jack.

  That guy is weird.

  The recess bell rang, and kids came pouring out of the school.* They must have seen the motorcycle, because a whole bunch of them came running over and gathered around Mr. Jack. So did some of the teachers.

  “Well, hello,” said our gym teacher, Miss Small. She was all giggly and she started fussing with her hair.

  “Hi there, stranger,” said Miss Holly, our Spanish teacher. She was blushing and started fanning herself with her hand.

  “New in town?” asked Ms. Hannah, our art teacher. She pulled a little mirror out of her pocket and started putting makeup on her face.

  All the lady teachers were giggling and blushing and fussing with their hair and fanning themselves and looking in little mirrors. Ladies always do that stuff when they’re in love. Nobody knows why. Miss Small looked like she was going to faint.

  “What’s your name, sugar?” asked Miss Laney, our speech teacher.

  “Hello, ladies. My name is Mr. Jack. You can call me . . . Mr. Jack.”

  “Well,” giggled Miss Holly, “you can call me . . . available.”

  Dr. Brad pushed his way to the front so he could talk to Mr. Jack.


  “I’m sorry, sir, but vut you are doing is called trespassing,” said Dr. Brad. “Zis is school property. You need to leave.”

  “Oh, yeah?” said Mr. Jack. “Who’s gonna make me?”

  “Oooooooooh!” we all said.

  Anytime somebody says “Who’s gonna make me?” you have to say “Oooooooooh!” That’s the first rule of being a kid.

  “I suppose I’m going to make you,” said Dr. Brad.

  “Oh, yeah?” said Mr. Jack. “You and what army?”

  “Oooooooooh!”

  Anytime somebody says “You and what army?” you have to say “Oooooooooh!” That’s the second rule of being a kid.

  “I’m scared,” said Emily, who’s scared of everything.

  Dr. Brad was looking at Mr. Jack. Mr. Jack was looking at Dr. Brad. We were all looking at Dr. Brad and Mr. Jack. Well, the girls were pretty much just looking at Mr. Jack.

  At that moment, the back door of the school opened, and a bunch of male teachers came out—Mr. Macky, Mr. Granite, Mr. Loring, Mr. Docker. Even Mr. Louie, our school crossing guard, and Mr. Tony, the after-school program director, came out. They all ran over and made a circle around Mr. Jack.

  “Zees army!” said Dr. Brad.

  “Oooooooooh!”

  3

  Weapons of Mass Destruction

  “Who is this guy?” asked Mr. Macky, our reading specialist.

  “His name is Mr. Jack,” I said. “But you can call him Mr. Jack.”

  “Okay, Mr. Jack,” said our science teacher, Mr. Docker. “This is school property. You can’t stay here. We have you outnumbered. If you won’t leave on your own, we’re going to have to make you leave.”

  “Oh, let him stay,” said Miss Holly. “He’s cute.”

  “Yeah,” said all the lady teachers. “He’s cute!” Then they all started giggling.

  “This is going to be cool,” Ryan whispered to me.

  “Now zees is exactly zuh kind of situation I vus telling you children about,” said Dr. Brad. “Vee are having a little disagreement here. Ven mature adults have disagreements, zuh best vay to settle zem is to have an open and honest discussion instead of fight—”

  But Dr. Brad didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. At that moment, Mr. Jack picked him up and held him in the air.

  “Eeee-yah!” screamed Mr. Jack. Then he threw Dr. Brad across the playground!

  “WOW!” we all said, which is MOM upside down.

  Dr. Brad landed in the bushes. It was cool! I had no idea you could throw another person so far.

  Mr. Jack jumped into a karate pose.

  “I must warn the rest of you fellows,” he said, “these hands are dangerous tools. In fact, I had to have them registered with the government as weapons of mass destruction.”

  Mr. Jack’s hands looked just like regular hands to me. But what do I know about karate?

  “We’re not afraid,” said Mr. Tony. “Come on, boys. Let’s take him!”

  With that, Mr. Tony charged at Mr. Jack.

  “Eeee-yah!” screamed Mr. Jack.

  He spun around fast, grabbed Mr. Tony’s arms, gave him a kick in the butt, and sent him tumbling to the ground.

  “I don’t approve of violence on school property,” said Andrea.

  “What do you have against violins?” I asked her.

  “Not violins, Arlo!” Andrea shouted at me. “Violence!”

  “Oh, that’s different,” I said.

  Mr. Tony got up, and the other male teachers came after Mr. Jack, one at a time.

  Mr. Granite jumped on Mr. Jack. Mr. Jack flipped him sideways. Mr. Granite was flat on his back.

  Mr. Louie tried to grab Mr. Jack’s legs. Mr. Jack jumped up and landed on Mr. Louie.

  “Eeee-yah!” screamed Mr. Jack.

  “Hide your eyes, Emily!” Andrea said. “This kind of behavior is definitely not appropriate for children.”

  Mr. Macky and Mr. Loring charged at Mr. Jack, but Mr. Jack grabbed both of them at the same time and bonked their heads together.

  “Eeee-yah!” screamed Mr. Jack.

  “Oooof!” grunted Mr. Loring as he hit the ground with a thud.

  One by one, Mr. Jack kicked all their butts. It was like watching professional wrestling on TV, but without the TV.

  All the lady teachers were giggling and blushing and fussing with their hair and fanning themselves and looking at their faces in little mirrors. All the male teachers were sprawled on the ground, moaning and groaning. It was hilarious.

  “I guess you fellows will think twice before messing with Mr. Jack again,” said Mr. Jack. Then he started combing his hair.

  “How do I look?” he asked. “Does anybody want my autograph?”

  4

  Step Outside

  You’ll never believe in a million hundred years who came running out of the school at that moment. It was Mr. Klutz, our principal! He’s like the president of the world.

  Mr. Klutz has no hair at all. I mean none. They should put a solar panel on his head to generate electricity.

  “What’s going on out here?” Mr. Klutz demanded.

  Nobody said a word. Everybody stepped out of the way.

  Mr. Jack and Mr. Klutz were standing there, staring at each other. You could hear a pin drop.*

  “This playground ain’t big enough fer the both of us, pardner,” said Mr. Jack.

  “I reckon it ain’t, pardner,” said Mr. Klutz.

  Why were they talking like it was the Wild West? That was weird.

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” Andrea said.

  “Me neither,” said Emily.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to step outside, sir,” Mr. Klutz said.

  “We’re already outside,” Mr. Jack replied.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Mr. Jack turned to face us.

  “Should I beat this guy up too?” he asked.

  “Yeah!” shouted all the boys.

  “No!” shouted all the girls.

  Mr. Jack took two quick steps forward and dove at Mr. Klutz’s legs, knocking him down. Then he picked up Mr. Klutz and raised him high over his head.

  “Help!” Mr. Klutz shouted. “Put me down!”

  “Eeee-yah!” screamed Mr. Jack.

  Mr. Jack spun around a few times. Then he dropped Mr. Klutz on the ground and sat on him so he couldn’t get up.

  You should have been there! It was amazing!

  What happened next was even more amazing. Mr. Jack got up and helped Mr. Klutz to his feet. They shook hands and hugged each other. Then all the male teachers came over to shake hands with Mr. Jack. So did all the lady teachers. Then all the teachers got in a line and took a bow, like they were in a play or something.

  A few kids started clapping their hands, and then the rest of us broke into applause.

  “Zank you, Zank you,” said Dr. Brad. “You all did a vunderful job.”

  “Wait a minute!” I shouted. “You mean to say that wasn’t a real fight?”

  “No, of course not!” Dr. Brad replied. “At Ella Mentry School, vee don’t fight. Vee settle our differences viz verds, not viz fists.”

  “I felt that you kids should learn a few basic self-defense moves in case of emergency,” Mr. Klutz told us. “It’s a dangerous world out there and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Everyone needs to blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. That’s why I hired Mr. Jack to spend the rest of the day with us.”

  “Hooray!” we all shouted.

  “Any questions?” asked Mr. Jack.

  “You’re really good at karate,” said Michael. “Do you have a black belt?”

  “Let me put it this way,” said Mr. Jack. “I do have a belt, and it’s black.”

  “Wow, he has a black belt!” I shouted.

  I always wanted to take karate classes, but my parents said I had to wait until I was in fourth grade.

  “Who wants to be door closer for the day?” asked Mr. Klutz as we all walked back inside the school.

&n
bsp; “Me! Me! I do!” we all shouted.

  Everybody wanted to be door closer for the day. That’s an important job, because you have to be sure to close the door. If the door closer for the day doesn’t close the door, a wild animal might wander into the school. So being door closer is way more important than being line leader or snack passer outer.

  I always wanted to be door closer for the day. But Mr. Klutz never picks me. He always picks one of the other kids.

  “A.J., you are the door closer for the day,” Mr. Klutz said.

  “Yes! I rule!”

  After I closed the door, I ran up ahead so I could talk to Mr. Jack.

  “Are you going to teach us how to beat people up?” I asked him.

  “Up, down, and sideways, baby!” he replied.

  This was gonna be cool!

  5

  Butt-Kicking Time

  Mr. Jack led everybody into the gym. I stood between Ryan and Michael. We were all excited. We’d seen a lot of karate movies, and a lot of wrestling on TV. Finally we would get to kick some butt like those guys.

  “Do we get to kick butt now?” I asked Mr. Jack.

  “First, we need to warm up with stretching exercises,” Mr. Jack told us. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  That made sense, I guess.

  “Everybody reach up and touch the sky,” Mr. Jack told us.

  We all reached up and touched the sky.* Then we touched our toes. Then we leaned backward as far as we could go. Then we got down on the floor and twisted and turned and pulled every part of our bodies for a million hundred minutes. Then we did jumping jacks.

  I thought I was gonna die! This was the worst thing to happen since TV Turnoff Week.

  “Okay, everybody sit on the floor ‘crisscross applesauce,’” Mr. Jack told us.

  Grown-ups used to tell us to sit like a pretzel. But that didn’t make any sense, because pretzels don’t sit. After that, they told us to sit “crisscross applesauce.” Applesauce doesn’t sit either. But one time I sat in some applesauce in the vomitorium and got it all over my pants. It was gross.