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

asked.
    â€œI did,” Nilly said, standing in front of them resolutely, his hands on his hips.
    First the two policemen looked at Nilly, then at each other, and then they both started laughing.
    â€œA tiny little guy like you?” Mr. Handlebar laughed. “We’re supposed to believe that a pip-squeak like you had something to do with such a serious crime?”
    â€œWell,” Nilly said, puffing himself up like a frog, “if you’d been paying attention, then those sharppolice brains of yours would have noticed that I said the powder had sent them up into an oak tree. You didn’t say anything about a tree, so how else would I have known about that?”
    â€œHmm,” Mr. Fu Manchu said, raised his police cap, and scratched the bald head he had underneath. “You’ve got a point. So how did you know that?”
    â€œBecause I’m telling you what happened!” Nilly hissed. “I’m the one who sold them the powder. And not the normal, harmless powder that Doctor Proctor sells. No sirree, gentlemen …”
    Nilly took a deep breath and started a very long sentence: “I sold them Doctor Proctor’s Fartonaut Powder, even though the doctor himself decided that it should only be sold to NASA, since the powder is a hyper-explosive special formula that can just be consumed in very small doses by people with at least four years of astronaut training, and even then they need to be wearing padding and be under the supervision of at least two adults!” As Nilly spoke, he got madder and madder, and now he was jumping up and down.

    â€œHmm,” Mr. Handlebar said. “And who made this … uh, fartonaut powder?”
    â€œI did,” sighed Doctor Proctor from inside the car.
    â€œBut it’s my fault that Truls and Trym got ahold of it,” Nilly said.
    â€œHmm,” Mr. Fu Manchu said. “I don’t see any way out of this other than to arrest you both. Do you?”
    â€œI agree,” Mr. Handlebar said.
    And that’s how both Doctor Proctor and Nilly got arrested on the day that, until that moment, had seemed like it was going to be perfect.

Three Fishy Fellas with a Plan
    WHEN LISA’S DAD came home that day, Lisa was sitting under the apple tree that had no apples.
    â€œI’m so relieved,” growled the Commandant, wiping the sweat off his brow. “We thought the whole Independence Day celebration was going to be ruined. You know, Lisa, we’ve been lookingfor the special gunpowder for the Big and Almost World-Famous Royal Salute for several days. We were starting to think they’d forgotten to load it on the ship over in Shanghai. But it turns out it was the first thing they loaded onboard, so it’s all the way at the bottom. They’re going to bring it ashore tomorrow. Phew, imagine what a catastrophe it would have been if the gunpowder hadn’t come.”
    Only now did he notice that Lisa was hardly paying attention. She was sitting there under the tree with her head in her hands, looking downhearted.
    â€œIs there something wrong, pal?” he growled.
    â€œSomething terrible happened,” Lisa said glumly. “They arrested Nilly and Doctor Proctor. Just because Truls and Trym ate a little fartonaut powder.”
    â€œI know,” the Commandant said.
    â€œYou know? How did you find out?”
    â€œBecause the police asked if Nilly and DoctorProctor could be kept in the most escape-proof cell in all of northern Europe, apart from Finland. And that’s where they are.”
    â€œYou mean … you mean … ,” Lisa began, frightened.
    â€œYup,” her dad said. “They’re in the Dungeon of the Dead.”
    â€œThe Dungeon of the Dead! But Nilly and the professor aren’t the least bit dangerous!”
    â€œWell, the police don’t agree. Mr. Trane explained to the police that the professor is a raving lunatic who’ll invent an atom bomb if