Doctor Proctor's Fart Powder by Jo Nesbø, mike lowery

“So, this professor has a powder that can shoot a person right up into the air? Plus another powder that kids are willing to pay money for?”
    â€œYeah,” Truls said.
    â€œYeah,” Trym said.
    â€œNot such dumb inventions,” Mr. Trane said with an evil sneer as he jabbed a stick into a cage where a frightened guinea pig was trying to get away. “I think I have a plan, boys. A plan that we can all make some money off of.”
    â€œYippee!” cheered Truls.
    â€œYippee!” yelled Trym. “What’s the plan?”
    â€œA little creative borrowing,” Mr. Trane said.
    â€œAwesome!” cried Truls.
    â€œHow do we start?” asked Trym.
    â€œWe start, of course …,” Mr. Trane said, grunting as he reached for the phone, “by calling the police.”

A Perfect Day?
    NILLY AND LISA danced home from school. It was a perfect day. It had started with Truls and Trym eating the fartonaut powder, which blasted them up into the sky. And continued with everyone wanting to be friends with them. Even Mrs. Strobe had been in a good mood, and when Nilly had given one of his usualunusual answers, she’d laughed so hard she cried, patted him on the head, and said that it was remarkable how many strange things he had room for in there. And this afternoon, Lisa, Nilly, and Doctor Proctor were going to sell even more fart powder, make even more friends, and eat even more Jell-O, and then just wait for Independence Day. So it wasn’t so strange that they were dancing. Because what could go wrong?
    Nothing
, Nilly thought.
    Nothing
, Lisa thought.
    Which is why they didn’t give it a second thought when they noticed a police car parked on Cannon Avenue.
    â€œSee you this afternoon,” Lisa chirped.
    â€œDefinitely,” Nilly said, practically jumping over his front gate. He ran up the steps, opened the door, and was about to go in when he caught sight of a group of people moving through the tall grass toward Doctor Proctor’s front gate. There were twomen in police uniforms, one of them with a Fu Manchu mustache, the other with a handlebar mustache. They both looked very determined, and between them they were holding Doctor Proctor, who was gesticulating and looked very agitated.

    â€œStop!” Nilly yelled, leaping down from the porch and running over to the fence. “Stop in the name of the law!” The group stopped and turned toward Nilly.
    â€œWe
are
the law,” Mr. Fu Manchu said, “not you.”

    â€œWhat’s going on?” Nilly asked. “What do you want with the doctor?”
    â€œHe has broken the law,”Mr. Handlebar said. “And we on the police force don’t take that kind of thing lightly.”
    The doctor groaned. “They claim that I sold a deadly powder to children in the neighborhood here. As if Doctor Proctor’s Fart Powder could hurt so much as a fly!”
    The two policemen escorted the professor out his gate toward the parked police car. Nilly ran after them.
    â€œWait!” Nilly yelled. “Who said Doctor Proctor’s Fart Powder is dangerous?”
    â€œThe father of two boys who were blasted up into the sky by the darn powder,” Mr. Fu Manchu said, opening one of the car’s rear doors for Doctor Proctor. “He called and said we had to arrest this crazy professor. And of course he’s right. Blasting kids up into the sky like that … Watch your head there, Doctor.”
    â€œGo home and eat your dinner now, Nilly,” Doctor Proctor said, ducking his head and taking a seat in the patrol car. “I’ll get this misunderstanding cleared up down at the police station.”
    But Nilly didn’t back down. “Numbskulls! Doctor Proctor didn’t give them the powder that sent them up into the oak tree!”
    â€œNumb-what?” Mr. Handlebar said gruffly.
    â€œWell then who
did
give them the powder?” Mr. Fu Manchu