Dance Your Pants Off! Read online

  “NO!” D. W. bellowed. “I am the director of the Beaver Brook Movie Theater’s informative, very short films. I’m calling this one The Creature from the Back of the Store. It’s catchy, don’t you think?”

  George didn’t know what to think.

  D. W. pointed to the snakes and lizards in the cages that lined the back wall of the pet shop. “Now which of these should be my star?” he wondered out loud. Then he turned to Mr. Furstman. “Don’t forget, I demand final say on the casting of all my films.”

  “I was thinking the garter snake,” Mr. Furstman said. “Or maybe the gecko.”

  “Hmm . . . what do you think, kid?” D. W. asked George.

  George didn’t answer. He couldn’t think about any snake or gecko. He was more worried about what was up in his neck-o.

  There were bubbles there. Big ones. And they were moving fast. Already they’d bing-bonged in his belly, kickboxed his kidneys, and rattled his rib cage. Now they were tickling his tonsils. Any minute now . . .

  George opened his mouth to say “excuse me.” But instead, he said, “I’m ready for my close-up!” His face plastered itself right in front of the camera.

  “Cut it out, kid!” the cameraman shouted. “Your breath is fogging up my camera lens.”

  George’s tongue moved in and out like a snake searching for food. “Hissss . . . ,” he said as he looked right into the camera.

  “Get that kid off my set!” D. W. demanded.

  “George, please,” Mr. Furstman said. “This isn’t a good time to goof around.”

  But the burp thought it was the perfect time. Suddenly, George’s body dropped to the ground. He began slithering around the floor on his belly.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” D. W. demanded.

  But that was just it. George wasn’t thinking. The burp was doing the thinking for him. And right now it was thinking it would be fun to be a snake.

  “Hissss!” George’s tongue slithered in and out. It licked up some dirt that a customer had tracked into the store.

  Whoosh! Suddenly, George felt the air rush out of him. It was like someone had popped a balloon in the bottom of his belly. The super burp was gone.

  But George was still there, lying on his belly, with dirt on his tongue.

  “Get up!” D. W. shouted. “I’m not auditioning anyone for the role of the snake.” He put his hand to his head. “I can’t work in these conditions,” he moaned.

  “George, please . . . ,” Mr. Furstman pleaded.

  George jumped up and quickly moved out of the way. D. W. was already plenty annoyed. He didn’t want Mr. Furstman to be mad at him, too.

  D. W. pointed to a gecko who was sitting on a branch in his terrarium. “This will be the star of my film.”

  “Great choice, D. W.,” Christina and the cameraman said at once.

  Mr. Furstman smiled at George. “If you want to help with the commercial . . .”

  “Informative, very short film,” D. W. corrected him.

  “Uh, right,” Mr. Furstman said. “If you want to help with the informative, very short film, why don’t you feed the gecko a cricket?”

  “Yes, sir.” George reached into a bucket of bugs and pulled out a nice juicy cricket for the gecko to snack on.

  “Okay, everybody . . . quiet on the set!” D. W. shouted. “And . . . action!”

  Later that afternoon, as George was walking home from work, he bumped into Julianna and Sage.

  “Hi, Georgie,” Sage cooed. Then she did that weird batting-her-eyelashes thing.

  “Hey,” George grumbled at Sage. He smiled at Julianna. “What’s up?”

  “Mrs. Kelly and some other dancers from that new show are practicing at the Beaver Brook Ballet Studio on Kukamonga Road,” Julianna said. “We’re heading over to sneak a peek.”

  “I take ballet lessons there,” Sage said. “So I’m sure they’ll let us in. You want to come with us, Georgie?”

  Usually George avoided going anywhere with Sage. But he was really curious about what kind of dance Mrs. Kelly would be doing on Monday’s show.

  “Okay,” George agreed. “Let’s go spy on Mrs. Kelly.”

  A few minutes later George was inside the Beaver Brook Ballet Studio, peering through the window that separated the lobby from the room where the dancers were. Through the glass, George could see some dancers doing flying leaps across the floor. Others were twirling, and a few were bending their knees outward with their backs straight.

  “Those are called pliés,” Sage said, pointing to the bending dancers. “I can do one, Georgie. Want to see?”

  No, George did not want to see. He wasn’t there to watch Sage dance. He was there to spy on Mrs. Kelly.

  He looked around the studio, searching for his teacher. And then, finally, he saw her. She was off in the corner, far from the other dancers. Instead of bending, leaping, or twirling, Mrs. Kelly was on the ground doing somersaults. At least George thought they were supposed to be somersaults. It was hard to tell because every time she flipped over, Mrs. Kelly would tip to the side.

  “We never do anything like that in dance class,” Sage said.

  George watched as Mrs. Kelly tucked her head between her legs and started to turn over again. But this time she didn’t flip or flop. She just stayed there. Stuck. With her rear end high up in the air.

  “Oh man, I can’t watch this anymore,” George said as he turned away from the window. “No guy should ever have to see his teacher’s rear end looking like that. Not ever.”

  “I’m telling you, dudes, when Mrs. Kelly gets on that stage, it’s not gonna be pretty,” George told Alex, Julianna, and Chris as they walked into the movie theater on Sunday to see The Monster That Menaced Milwaukee.

  “She was that bad?” Alex asked.

  “Worse than bad,” Julianna said.

  “I’m going to have nightmares about her rear end for months,” George added.

  Alex shook his head. “I don’t want Mrs. Kelly to be embarrassed on TV. She’s a nice teacher. She’s just a little . . .”

  “Different?” George said.

  “Exactly,” Alex agreed.

  Chris stopped at the middle row in the theater. “These seats okay?” he asked.

  George shrugged. The only problem with the seats was that Louie, Mike, and Max were two rows ahead of them.

  “You’re sure Mr. Furstman’s commercial is going to be shown today?” Chris asked George.

  “Yeah. D. W. said it would be ready for today,” George said. “Informative, very short films take a very short time to make.”

  Louie turned around and glared at George. “No one’s here to watch the commercials. They’re here to see The Monster That Menaced Milwaukee.”

  “Yeah, I want to see the monster,” Max said.

  “I want to see Milwaukee,” Mike added.

  Just then a picture of Mr. Furstman’s pet shop flashed on the screen. “This is it!” George said excitedly.

  “It came from the back of the store . . . and it was hungry!” a booming voice shouted. A picture of a gecko appeared on the giant screen. It opened its mouth and swallowed a cricket, whole.

  “Hey, George!” Chris exclaimed as he pointed at the screen. “That’s your hand. I can tell because that’s your ring!”

  Sure enough, George’s hand and his skull ring could be seen holding the cricket up for the gecko to grab.

  “Cool, dude,” Alex said. “You’re a movie star!”

  “It’s not a movie. It’s just a commercial.” Louie whipped around in his seat to glare at George. His popcorn went flying all over the floor.

  “Now look what you did!” Louie shouted at George.

  “Me?” George asked. “What did I do?”

  Louie glared at h
im. “I can’t watch a movie without popcorn,” he insisted.

  Max and Mike dropped to the floor and started picking up the kernels.

  “Don’t worry,” Max said. “I’ll pick it up.”

  “Me too,” Mike said. He held up a brown kernel. “Hey! This one’s moving.”

  “That’s not popcorn,” Louie said. “It’s a cockroach!”

  “Oh,” Mike said. He looked at the wriggling bug. “It might taste okay if you put butter on it.”

  “Get that thing away from me!” Louie screeched. He jumped up and started climbing over the seat in front of him to get away from the squirming roach. “I hate bugs!”

  “Sorry,” Mike said. “I forgot.”

  Louie turned and glared at George. “Now I have to go buy another bag of popcorn. It’s a good thing my mother gave me lots of extra money. I’m going to get a giant soda while I’m at it.”

  As Louie skated off on his sneakers with wheels to buy popcorn and soda, George settled back into his seat. It was almost time for The Monster That Menaced Milwaukee. But George doubted the movie monster could be any creepier than the real-life one: Louie—The Kid Who Could Buy the World.

  “Oh, Georgie, I always knew you were a star,” Sage said as the kids walked into class 401 on Monday morning. “I wish I’d been at the movie theater on Sunday so I could have seen you on the big screen.”

  “It was just his hand,” Louie corrected her. “He wasn’t the star of the commercial. That iguana was.”

  “It wasn’t an iguana. It was a gecko,” George told Louie. “There’s a big difference. Geckos actually—”

  “Whatever,” Louie interrupted. “The point is you weren’t the star of anything.”

  “Hey, check it out,” Alex whispered to George. “Mr. Trainer is our substitute.”

  George looked toward the front of the classroom. Sure enough, his gym teacher was standing by the board. This was going to be weird. Gym teachers never knew anything about school stuff; they only knew about gym stuff.

  “Okay, let’s get to work,” Mr. Trainer said. “Mrs. Kelly left me instructions to start teaching you about ancient Egypt in social studies today. Can anyone tell me what you have learned so far?”

  Louie’s hand shot up first. “We know how to walk like Egyptians.” He put his arms in front and in back of himself and bobbed his head back and forth. “Like this.”

  Mr. Trainer gave Louie a strange look. “That’s unique,” he said.

  George laughed. When grown-ups said unique, they usually meant odd. And odd was exactly how Louie looked.

  “Mrs. Kelly said we’d be learning about the pyramids soon,” Sage added.

  “Well, I don’t know a whole lot about pyramids,” Mr. Trainer admitted. “But I do know about phys ed. So let’s go down to the gym and have our social studies lesson there.”

  “They had gym class in ancient Egypt?” Julianna asked as the kids headed out of the classroom and down the hall to the gym.

  “Not exactly,” Mr. Trainer answered. “But they had games. For instance, they played handball. And archery was a huge sport. So was wrestling.”

  “Wrestling! Like on TV?” George asked. “I love wrestling! Did you guys see the one where Mr. Mammoth leaped off the ropes and landed right on Harry the Horrendous?”

  “Mr. Mammoth is amazing,” Julianna agreed. “He kept wrestling even after Harry the Horrendous bit him on the nose.”

  “Well, they didn’t exactly have that kind of wrestling back in ancient Egypt,” Mr. Trainer said. “For one thing, the wrestlers were covered in oil.”

  “Gross,” Sage said. “You’re not going to make us cover ourselves in oil, are you?”

  Mr. Trainer shook his head. “We’re not wrestling today. We’re going to play handball.” He picked up a pink rubber ball. “Let me explain the rules. We start by bouncing the ball . . .”

  George didn’t pay attention to the rest of the handball rules. He couldn’t. He was too busy paying attention to the bouncing that was going on inside his belly. The super burp was back! And it really wanted to come out and play. Already the bubbles had bing-bonged past his belly and cling-clanged over his colon.

  George clamped his mouth shut and tried to keep the bubbles from bursting out of him. But the bubbles were strong! They twisted and turned between his teeth, licked at his lips, and then . . .

  George let out a burp that was so loud it could have shaken the pyramids.

  George opened his mouth to say “excuse me,” but instead he shouted, “I’m George the Giant Wrestling Superstar.”

  Then George’s body took a flying leap . . . and landed right on top of Louie!

  “What the?!” Louie exclaimed as George’s elbow pounded right into his gut and knocked him to the ground.

  “I’m George the Giant Wrestling Superstar!” George told Louie.

  “Dude, no!” Alex shouted.

  Dude, yes. The burp was rarin’ to wrestle.

  “George! I said we weren’t wrestling today,” Coach Trainer told him. “We’re playing handball.”

  But the burp didn’t want to play handball. It wanted to flip Louie over onto his belly.

  “The Boston Crab!” George shouted as his arms grabbed Louie’s legs.

  Louie had been caught by surprise. But as soon as he caught his breath, he shouted, “You can’t outwrestle me, you weirdo freak.” He reached out his arm and tripped George. Now both boys were on the floor.

  “Boys, get up!” Coach Trainer shouted.

  George wanted to get up. He really did. But he couldn’t. George wasn’t in charge anymore. The burp was. And it wanted to put Louie in a half nelson.

  “Ahh! Gotcha!” George shouted as he grabbed Louie under the armpit. Yuck! It was wet, sweaty, and stinky under there. But the burp didn’t care. Burps love sweat and stink.

  “No, you don’t!” Louie shouted, slipping from George’s grip and flipping him on his back.

  “Go, Louie!” Max and Mike shouted.

  Mr. Trainer reached over and tried to pull the boys apart. George’s elbow whacked him in the face.

  “Oh! My nose!” Coach Trainer exclaimed.

  “Dude, stop!” Alex yelled.

  But George couldn’t stop. He rolled over and flipped Louie. Now George was on top.

  Then Louie flipped George. Louie was on top.

  Then George was on top.

  Then Louie.

  George.

  Louie.

  George.

  Louie.

  Pop! Suddenly, George felt all the air rush out of him. The super burp was gone. But George was still there. And Louie still had him pinned to the floor.

  “I’m the champion!” Louie declared.

  “Lou-ie! Lou-ie! Lou-ie!” Max and Mike chanted.

  “Boys, get up!” Mr. Trainer shouted angrily.

  “He started it,” Louie insisted.

  George knew that wasn’t true. The super burp had started it. But George didn’t say that. Instead he opened his mouth to say “I’m sorry.” And that was exactly what came out.

  Mr. Trainer shook his head. “George, wrestling can be dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. You and I will have a long talk about this—during recess.”

  George frowned. He was in trouble again. And there was no way he could wrestle his way out of it. The super burp had George in a rope-hung figure-four armlock. And it wasn’t letting go.

  “That burp really messed me up big-time,” George groaned as he sat down next to Alex in the cafeteria at lunchtime. “Louie’s never going to let me forget I lost a wrestling match against him.”

  “Yeah, that was a tough break,” Alex said. “Who knew he had moves like that?”

  “And to top it all off, I
have to spend recess with Mr. Trainer,” George added. “He said he’s giving me extra homework, too. I hope I can get it done before Mrs. Kelly’s dance show comes on. I’m not allowed to watch TV until all my work is finished.”

  “That stinks,” Alex agreed.

  “There has to be a way to get rid of this troublemaking burp,” George whispered.

  Alex grinned. He pulled a huge container of cut-up, yellow-orange–colored fruit from his lunch bag.

  “What’s that?” George asked him.

  “Papaya,” Alex answered. “I was reading on The Burp No More Blog that eating lots of papaya is good for your digestion. The only other cure I saw posted was to make sure your false teeth are tightly sealed to your gums. You don’t have false teeth, do you?”

  George grinned so Alex could see his teeth. “They’re all mine,” he said.

  “Papaya it is,” Alex agreed.

  George put a piece of papaya in his mouth and started to chew. It was slimy and mealy, but at least it tasted better than the spicy mustard cure Alex had him try a few weeks ago. The mustard made George feel like a fire-breathing dragon. And it didn’t work, which meant George wound up more like a fire-burping dragon.

  “So long, loser,” Louie said as he, Max, and Mike walked past George on the way to the school yard. “Too bad you’re spending recess with Mr. Trainer. We could have wrestled some more. I have a few moves I didn’t get to show you. We’re gonna play killer ball at recess instead. Of course, you’re going to miss it. Bummer for you.”

  Killer ball was a game Louie had made up. It was like dodgeball, only meaner. George wasn’t sorry he was missing that game. He wasn’t sorry to be missing Louie’s wrestling moves, either. The only move Louie could do that would make George happy was to move far, far away. Because there just wasn’t enough room in Beaver Brook for both of them.

  “George! It’s for you!” his mother shouted later that evening while George was busy typing the third paragraph of his essay “Why I Shouldn’t Fool Around in the Gym.” George hit Save on his computer and ran for the hall phone.