Mr. Will Needs to Chill! Read online

  “That’s nice,” I said. “I’ll have a chocolate Magic Shell Bomb Pop.”

  But Mr. Mill didn’t give me a chocolate Magic Shell Bomb Pop like I asked. He just kept talking.

  “During the Roman Empire,” he said, “Emperor Nero sent runners up to the mountains to get snow. Then he had it flavored with fruit.”

  “That’s interesting,” I said. “Can I have a chocolate Magic Shell Bomb Pop now, please?”

  “Did you know,” said Mr. Mill, “that Marco Polo went to the Far East and came back to Italy with a recipe for something that was very much like ice cream?”

  “I didn’t know that,” I said. “Would you please give me a chocolate Magic Shell Bomb Pop?”

  “By the time the United States became a country, ice cream was really popular,” said Mr. Mill. “In fact, George Washington spent two hundred dollars on ice cream during the summer of 1790.”

  What a snoozefest! Could Mr. Mill possibly be any more boring? All I wanted was to eat some ice cream.

  “You don’t really have any chocolate Magic Shell Bomb Pops, do you?” I asked Mr. Mill.

  “Sure I do!” he replied as he reached into the freezer and handed me a chocolate Magic Shell Bomb Pop. “Here you go.”

  I was about to unwrap my chocolate Magic Shell Bomb Pop when I stopped.

  “Hey,” I said, “that was sort of a history lesson you just gave me. Are you a history teacher?”

  “No, don’t be silly,” said Mr. Mill. “I’m just a Ding-Dong man.”

  Mr. Mill is weird.

  The chocolate Magic Shell Bomb Pop was awesome. I couldn’t wait to get to school the next morning so I could get more ice cream from Mr. Mill. We all ran over to the truck as soon as we heard the Ding-Dong jingle.

  But Mr. Mill wasn’t there. It was some other Ding-Dong guy!

  “Where’s Mr. Mill?” I asked him.

  “Mr. Mill is sick today,” the new Ding-Dong guy told me. “I’m Mr. Hill. What would you like?”

  “Can I have a Ding-Dong double-dipped Dixie Doodle?” I asked.

  “Sure, coming right up,” said Mr. Hill. “By the way, do you know what ice cream is made out of?”

  “No,” I told him. “I just like to eat it.”

  “Ice cream is made out of cream or milk, sugar, and sometimes eggs and flavoring,” he told me. “And each molecule of sugar contains twelve carbon atoms, twenty-two hydrogen atoms, and eleven oxygen atoms.”

  Mr. Hill took out a pad and started drawing a weird picture. . . .

  “Nice picture,” I said. “Can I have my Ding-Dong double-dipped Dixie Doodle now?”

  “After all the ingredients are combined, they get pasteurized,” said Mr. Hill. “Do you know what pasteurized means?”

  “They leave the ice cream out in a pasture for a while?” I guessed.

  “No,” said Mr. Hill. “That’s when a liquid is heated to a very high temperature to kill off the germs, and blah blah blah blah it is cooled blah blah blah blah Louis Pasteur blah blah blah blah French scientist who invented it blah blah blah blah . . .”

  He went on like that for a million hundred minutes. What a snoozefest.

  “How about that Ding-Dong double-dipped Dixie Doodle?” I finally asked.

  “Pasteur is famous for his discoveries blah blah blah blah helped prevent diseases blah blah blah blah germs blah blah blah . . . ,” said Mr. Hill.

  I was going to just walk away, but suddenly Mr. Hill stopped blabbing about germs. He reached into the freezer and pulled out a Ding-Dong double-dipped Dixie Doodle for me. I took off the wrapper and had a bite. It was yummy.

  “All that stuff you told me about ice cream sounded a lot like science class,” I told Mr. Hill. “You’re not really a science teacher, are you?”

  “No, don’t be silly,” said Mr. Hill. “I’m just a Ding-Dong man.”

  Mr. Hill is weird.

  We got free ice cream every day! Chocolate marshmallow. Vanilla fudge ripple. Cookies and cream. You name it. It was the greatest week of my life.

  You would think that everybody would have been happy. But when we were eating lunch in the vomitorium on Friday, Andrea had on her worried face.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked her. “Did they cancel your clog-dancing class after school today?”

  Clog dancing is a dance that plumbers do. Andrea takes classes in everything after school so she can show off how good she is. If they gave classes in toenail clipping, she would take that class so she could get better at it.

  “I just don’t get it,” Andrea said. “I don’t understand why Mr. Klutz is giving away money so we can buy ice cream. Grown-ups don’t just hand out dollar bills to kids. It’s not normal.”

  “I was wondering that myself,” said Ryan. “And why is there a different guy driving the Ding-Dong truck every day?”

  “Yeah, and why are all the Ding-Dong guys so weird?” asked Michael.

  “Maybe they went crazy listening to the Ding-Dong jingle all day,” guessed Neil. “It does have that effect on grown-ups.”

  That’s it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up.

  “What is wrong with you people?” I shouted at them. “I can’t believe you’re complaining. We’re getting free ice cream! Every day! First thing in the morning! Just enjoy it!”

  “I do enjoy it, Arlo,” said Andrea. “But I’m suspicious. I think these Ding-Dong guys have some kind of a racket going on.”

  Huh? What did tennis have to do with anything?

  “You guys are nuts,” I told them. “As long as I get free ice cream every day, I’m happy.”

  We all went back to eating our lunch. Nobody said anything for a while.

  “But let me ask you this, Arlo,” Andrea finally said. “What do you think happened to Mr. Will, the first Ding-Dong man? He hasn’t been here all week.”

  Hmmm. Good question. What did happen to Mr. Will?

  “Yeah,” said Neil. “It’s like he vanished off the face of the earth.”*

  “Maybe Mr. Will moved away,” guessed Alexia. “Or maybe he got a new Ding-Dong route.”

  “Maybe he got fired,” guessed Neil.

  “Maybe he got kidnapped,” Ryan guessed.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe all those Ding-Dong guys are fake Ding-Dong guys who wanted jobs with the Ding-Dong company. So they kidnapped Mr. Will, locked him up in a Ding-Dong truck, and pushed the truck over a cliff! That stuff happens all the time, you know.”

  “Stop trying to scare Emily,” said Andrea.

  “I’m scared,” said Emily.

  “Maybe Mr. Will is . . .”

  I waited until everybody was looking at me before I finished the sentence.

  “. . . dead!”

  “We’ve got to do something!” Emily shouted. And then she went running out of the room.

  Sheesh, get a grip! That girl will fall for anything.

  But for once in her life, Emily was right. We did have to do something. We had to find out what was going on.

  After lunch, instead of playing outside during recess, we decided to go to Mr. Klutz’s office. If anybody knew what was going on, it would be Mr. Klutz.

  We walked down the hall to his office. When we got there, Mr. Klutz was sitting at his desk. He was eating an ice cream sandwich.

  “Hey guys!” he said when he saw us. “Have you been enjoying your Ding-Dong ice cream?”

  “Yes,” Andrea said. “But we’re worried about something.”

  “What is it?” asked Mr. Klutz. “Did the Ding-Dong truck run out of octopus Push-Up pops again?”

  “No,” said Andrea. “We want to know why there’s a different Ding-Dong guy every day. And why are you giving away money to buy ice cream? What’s really going on?”

  Mr. Klutz didn’t say anything for a while. It was like he was trying to decide how to respond.

  “Okay, I admit it,” Mr. Klutz finally said. “Mr. Bill and Mr. Hill and Mr. Mill are not real Ding-Dong guys.”

  “I knew it!” And
rea shouted.

  “When I was at Principal Camp last week,” Mr. Klutz told us, “I found out that kids can learn a lot when they’re not in a classroom. You can learn everywhere. So I hired teachers to work in the Ding-Dong truck and pretend to be Ding-Dong guys. I thought it would help you learn math, history, science, and other subjects.”

  “It did help us!” I told him. “I learned lots of new stuff. Did you know that during the Roman Empire, Marco Polo came home and brought ice cream for George Washington’s birthday party?”

  “I’m not sure that’s true, A.J.,” said Mr. Klutz.

  “Wait a minute,” said Andrea. “Bringing in fake Ding-Dong guys is sort of like lying to us, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Klutz admitted quietly. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Lying isn’t nice,” Andrea told him. “We’re not supposed to tell lies.”

  “You’re right, Andrea,” said Mr. Klutz. “But I was trying to help you kids learn. And you did. You got to eat lots of ice cream too. So everybody comes out a winner, right?”

  “Well, there’s one person who didn’t come out a winner,” said Andrea. “Mr. Will.”

  “Yeah,” Michael said. “Whatever happened to Mr. Will, the real Ding-Dong guy?”

  “Hmmm,” said Mr. Klutz as he stroked his chin.

  Men always stroke their chin when they’re thinking, even if they don’t have a beard. Nobody knows why.

  “That’s a good question,” he said. “I . . . honestly don’t know what happened to Mr. Will.”

  That’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened. We heard a sound.

  Well, that’s not the weird part. We hear sounds all the time. The weird part was that the sound was coming from above, and outside. It was a muffled voice. And the voice was saying, “Help! Help!”

  Mr. Klutz went to the window.

  “It’s coming from the roof!” he shouted. “Follow me!”

  We all ran out of his office and climbed up a secret principal staircase that only principals are allowed to climb on.

  “Shhh!” whispered Mr. Klutz when he got to the door that opened up onto the roof. “Don’t make a racket!”

  Huh?

  “Why would anybody want to make a racket at a time like this?” I asked. “Are there tennis courts up on the roof? Why is everybody always talking about tennis rackets?”

  “Shhhh! Quiet, Arlo!” said Andrea.

  Mr. Klutz opened the door to the roof with his secret principal key. We stepped out onto the roof.

  We were slinking around up there like secret agents. It was cool. Nobody said anything. You could hear a pin drop.

  Well, that is, if anybody had pins with them. Who brings pins to school? That would be weird.

  But anyway, there was electricity in the air.

  Well, not really. If there was electricity in the air, we would have all been electrocuted. And that would hurt!

  But it was really exciting. You should have been there!

  Suddenly we heard that muffled voice again.

  “Help!”

  We ran over to where the sound was coming from.

  And you’ll never believe in a million hundred years what we found up on the roof.

  Mr. Will!

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

  Mr. Will was tied to a chair. His white Ding-Dong uniform was dirty, and his hair was all messed up. He had ice cream dripping down his face, and there were Popsicle sticks on the floor around him.

  “Thank goodness you rescued me!” he said.

  “What happened, Mr. Will?” Andrea asked as we loosened the ropes that were tied around him.

  “It was horrible!” Mr. Will said. “Dr. Carbles was mad at me for parking my truck outside the school every day and for playing the Ding-Dong jingle over and over again. So he and his goons brought me up here and left me here.”

  “And you’ve been here all week?” asked Mr. Klutz. “What did you eat?”

  “Ice cream!” said Mr. Will. “I had nothing to eat but ice cream for a week.”

  Wait. What?

  We all looked at Mr. Will.

  “You had nothing to eat all week except for ice cream?” I asked.

  “Yes!” said Mr. Will.

  “And that’s a bad thing?” asked Ryan.

  “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” asked Michael.

  “I’d give anything to eat ice cream all week,” said Alexia.

  “That sounds like a perfect week to me,” said Andrea.

  “I wish I was in your shoes,” said Ryan.*

  Only a grown-up would complain about having to eat ice cream all week.

  Grown-ups are weird.

  “I could have died up here!” Mr. Will shouted as we helped him to his feet.

  Sheesh. What a whiner! If you ask me, Mr. Will needs to chill.

  Well, that’s pretty much what happened. Maybe Mr. Will will go back to his job driving the Ding-Dong truck. Maybe Dr. Carbles will get thrown in jail for kidnapping him. Maybe they’ll start making octopus-flavored ice cream. Maybe we’ll start watching our p’s and q’s instead of the other letters. Maybe a fish tank will come rolling down the street. Maybe Mr. Will is going to shoot soft ice cream out of a hose on the Ding-Dong truck and spray Dr. Carbles’s tank with it. Maybe Ryan will start eating dried mush for lunch every day. Maybe it’s true that ice cream wakes up your brain. Maybe people will stop talking about tennis rackets. Maybe Ella Mentry School will become a normal school someday.

  But it won’t be easy!

  About the Author and Illustrator

  Courtesy of Dan Gutman and Jim Paillot

  DAN GUTMAN has written many weird books for kids. He lives with his weird wife in New York (a very weird place). You can visit him on his weird website at www.dangutman.com.

  JIM PAILLOT lives in Arizona (another weird place) with his weird wife and two weird children. Isn’t that weird? You can visit him on his weird website at www.jimpaillot.com.

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  Back Ads

  Copyright

  MY WEIRDEST SCHOOL #11: MR. WILL NEEDS TO CHILL! Text copyright © 2018 by Dan Gutman. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  www.harpercollinschildrens.com

  Cover art © 2018 by Jim Paillot

  Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Jim Paillot

  * * *

  Digital Edition JUNE 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-242944-5

  Print ISBN: 978-0-06-242942-1

  ISBN 978-0-06-242942-1 (pbk. bdg.)—ISBN 978-0-06-242943-8 (library bdg.)

  * * *

  1819202122CG/BRR10987654321

  FIRST EDITION

  About the Publisher

  Australia

  HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.

  Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street

  Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia

  www.harpercollins.com.au

  Canada

  HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

  Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower

  22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor

  Toronto, Ontario, Canada

  M5H 4E3

  www.harpercollins.ca

  India

  HarperCollins India

  A 75, Sector 57

  Noida

  Uttar Pradesh 201 301

  www.harpercollins.co.in

  New Zealand

  HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand

  Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive

  Rosedale
0632

  Auckland, New Zealand

  www.harpercollins.co.nz

  United Kingdom

  HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF, UK

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  United States

  HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

  195 Broadway

  New York, NY 10007

  www.harpercollins.com

  * If you don’t believe me, read Dr. Carbles Is Losing His Marbles!

  * No, not that sound! That’s another tinkling sound.

  * I’ve heard of pedaling a bike, but it would be weird to pedal ice cream.

  * It really isn’t. But I heard somebody say that in a movie once, and it sounded cool.

  * This is the sad part of the book. Get some tissues, will you? You’re slobbering all over yourself.

  * Here’s a tip for all you writers out there. If you want a story to sound exciting, all you need to do is put each sentence on a line by itself. That’s the first rule of being an exciting writer!

  * Hey, when do the jokes start again? Isn’t this book supposed to be funny? You should get your money back! That is, unless you got it from the library. Then it was free anyway.

  * That is a total lie.

  * The earth has a face? That’s a new one on me.

  * What did shoes have to do with anything? And why did Ryan want to put on Mr. Will’s shoes? They would be too big. Ryan is weird.