Fart Squad by Seamus Pilger Page B

as he wolfed down the burritos in record time. They were crunchier than he had expected, with an odd flavor he couldn’t place. So he doused them with Tabasco sauce and cleaned off his whole plate. There was absolutely no puking involved. Lunch money exchanged hands.
    â€œI don’t believe it,” Bootsie said.
    â€œMe either,” Andy said. “You must have been really hungry!”
    Darren spotted a few other worried-looking kids daring to eat today’s “special.” He wondered if their lunches had gone missing, too. He was gobbling down the last burrito when the bell rang. He patted his stomach, feeling full at last.
    But then on the way back to his homeroom, he felt an uncomfortable pressure start to build. By the time he was back at his desk, an embarrassing eruption seemed inevitable. Half-digested burritos churned angrily, filling his gut with toxic gas. He clenched his butt to hold it in, but the pressure kept building.

    This was bad. Darren squirmed uncomfortably, hoping nobody would notice.
    Fat chance.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with you?” Bootsie asked, loud enough for everyone to hear. Her hand shot up. “Miss Priscilly, Miss Priscilly, I think something’s wrong with Dar—”
    Darren gave her the evil eye.
    The teacher, Miss Priscilly, glanced at him. “Are you all right, Darren?”
    Miss Priscilly wasn’t bad as teachers went, but she had one notable pet peeve. The young ladiesand gentlemen of her classroom were expected to take control of their bodily functions or face the consequences. Mistakes were generally not allowed. Not long ago, a fellow classmate made the mistake of sneezing into his palm rather than into the crook of his elbow and wound up in the principal’s office every recess for a week. Darren could only imagine where a burrito blooper from below the belt would land someone—especially if that someone was him.
    â€œUh-huh,” he fibbed, barely able to sit still. He was clenching hard enough to turn coal into diamonds, but the volcanic eruption kept building inside him. His bloated stomach felt like it was about to burst. A chewed-up mess of burritos, Tabasco sauce, and soda boiled and bubbled in his belly. He knew hecouldn’t hold the fart in much longer.

    Bootsie watched him like a hawk. Her nose twitched, anticipating trouble.

    Darren had to think quickly or he was a goner. He was way past the point of asking for a bathroom pass. There was no telling what could happen on the long walk from his desk to the classroom door.
    Then he had an idea.
    Why not try to redirect the fart? Burps were rude, too, but probably not as smelly and embarrassing as a fart. He placed a hand over his mouth and tried to swallow backward.
    But the burp came out louder than he expected. Heads turned in his direction.
    â€œMiss Priscilly!” Bootsie piped up again.
    That was hardly necessary.
    â€œDarren!” the offended teacher said. “Kindly control yourself.”
    â€œI’m trying,” he insisted, “but—”
    A few desks away, Andy groaned and buried his face in his hands.
    â€œTry harder,” Miss Priscilly said sternly.
    But the pressure was already building up inside Darren again—and heading down below this time. Before Darren could even try to burp again, he let loose with a fart that caught the entire classroom by surprise.
    To be clear, this wasn’t just any fart. This was the Fart to End All Farts. A blatt so rude the map of the world crashed to the floor. The explosive forceof the fart knocked Darren right out of his chair and landed him on the floor at the front of the class.

    The fart was loud and gross. A sulfurous stink, strong enough to make your eyes water, filled the whole classroom. Students gagged and covered their mouths and noses. Others tried to hold their breaths. Bootsie pinched her nose shut and looked at Darren in complete disgust. Darren scrambled back to his