Elrod McBugle on the Loose by Jeff Strand Page B

pointed to Scoopy. "Hit it."
    "Aaaooogah," said Scoopy.
    I began to tap my feet against the floor to the beat. "Baby, baby, baby," I sang, snapping my fingers as well. "I need you, baby."
    "Aaaooogah," Scoopy repeated.
    "Oh yeah, be my baby. Oh yeah, be my baby." I tried to raise my voice, and with my sore throat my voice cracked, making me wince.
    I heard a bunch of kids laughing.
    Good! Let them laugh! If we couldn't be talented, we'd be funny!
    "BABY, BABY, BABY!" I screeched. The audience howled with laughter.
    "A-AAA-AAAOOO-OOO-OOOO-GAH!" shouted Scoopy.
    "Okay, stop this," said Mrs. Webster in a loud voice. She stood up from where she'd been sitting in the front row. "This is not what the annual talent show is all about! This is a mockery of talent! Both of you, sit down."
    I was in shock. She couldn't do that, could she? Who was she to tell us that we were terrible? She wasn't in charge of this talent show! She could give us all the disapproving glances she wanted, but the show must go on!
    And even though it meant that I could get in all kinds of trouble later, I made Mrs. Webster part of that show.
    "There she is!" I sang. "There she is! There's my baby! There's my baaaaaaaaaaay-beh comin' to see me!"
    The class exploded in laughter. Mrs. Webster turned a dark red color that can't have been healthy. Then she marched up the three stairs leading to the stage, I guess with the intention of dragging Scoopy and myself away by force.
    This was, I thought, very rude. It sounded like a whole bunch of students were getting plenty of enjoyment out of how awful we were, so where did she get off deciding to take it upon herself to stop us?
    I was mad.
    She walked toward us. "This is completely unacceptable," she said. "Absolutely appalling."
    "Aaaooogah!" said Scoopy.
    Then I made a decision. We all make many decisions that will affect the course of our lives. Some are small decisions, such as whether to put on a clean shirt or just turn the shirt with the mustard stains inside-out. Some are big decisions, such as whether or not to stick a fork in a toaster (don't). Then there are decisions like the one I made, decisions with the potential to change your life forever.
    I had already made the choice to get up on stage and sing badly. If I let Mrs. Webster take me away, this day would simply be remembered as the day Elrod McBugle ruined an already lousy song and was dragged off by a teacher. No glory there.
    True glory rested in making this moment one that nobody in school would ever forget, no matter what the personal cost.
    And so when Mrs. Webster started to reach for me, I threw my arms around her and kissed her on the lips.
    Saying that the other students had a strong reaction to this is sort of like saying "Sitting on a circular saw can ruin your pants."
    The auditorium exploded with shrieks of shock and laughter. Several students jumped to their feet, unable to believe what they'd just seen. I thought the walls were going to crumble from the intensity of their reaction.
    Mrs. Webster eyes were bugged out so far I thought they might drop onto the floor (and maybe roll into an open bottle of Slurpy Gulp). She stumbled backwards, gasping, and then fell off the stage, landing on the floor with a loud thump. The reactions of the other students grew even louder, and several teachers were waving their arms, trying to restore control.
    I glanced at Scoopy. His jaw was hanging open, and his knees buckled underneath him. He fainted, dropping face-first onto the stage.
    Mr. Clark rushed onto the stage and spoke into the microphone. "Please remain calm! Everyone be seated! Everything is under control here!"
    Nothing was under control.
    Especially after somebody pulled the fire alarm.
    Students stampeded for the exits, trampling over each