“But I don’t care about golf or business or cars or lawns,” said Uncle Fred.

  “Nobody does!” I explained to him. “But grown-ups are old, so they ran out of things to say to each other a long time ago. That’s why they talk about all that boring stuff. If you talk like that, you’ll sound grown-up and mature.”

  “I just don’t get it,” said Uncle Fred.

  “It’s really simple,” I told him. “Repeat after me: The rain in Maine goes mainly down the drain.”

  “The rain in Maine goes mainly down the drain,” said Uncle Fred.

  “Good,” I said. “One more time, where does the rain go?”

  “Down the drain,” he replied. “Down the drain.”

  “And where is that drain?” I asked.

  “In Maine!” he replied. “In Maine!”

  “I think he’s got it!” Alexia shouted.

  Teaching Uncle Fred how to talk like a grown-up was a great idea, if I do say so myself. No wonder I’m in the gifted and talented program.

  When we got back to class, Miss Banks wrote the word HISTORY in big letters on the whiteboard.

  “Today we’re going to learn about the history of garbage cans,” she told us. “The first garbage can was invented—”

  But Miss Banks didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence. You’ll never believe who poked her head into the door at that moment.

  Nobody! Why would you poke your head into a door? Don’t you ever learn? But you’ll never believe who poked her head into the doorway.

  No, it wasn’t Uncle Fred. Nice try, though.

  It was Mrs. Stoker, the principal!

  “I just wanted to see how you kids were making out,” she said.

  “Ugh!” we all shouted. “We’re not making out!”

  “We’re learning about the history of garbage cans,” Alexia said.

  “But it’s boring,” said Michael.

  “Well,” asked Mrs. Stoker, “what do you want to learn about?”

  “We don’t want to learn anything,” I said. “We want to go back to Funderama.”

  “Yeah!” said Ryan. “They gave us free tickets to come back any time we want.”

  “They’re taping the next show this afternoon,” said Alexia. “Can we go?”

  “Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, PLEASE?” everybody shouted.

  The more times you say “please,” the harder it is for grown-ups to say “no.” That’s the first rule of being a kid.

  “Well . . . okay,” said Mrs. Stoker. “I’ll take you.”

  “YAY!” we all shouted, which is also “YAY” backward.

  Mrs. Stoker called for the school bus, and we all climbed on. We were so excited, we sang the Uncle Fred theme song the whole ride over to the TV studio. Even Mrs. Stoker joined in.

  “WE WANT UNCLE FRED!” we chanted when we got inside the studio. “WE WANT UNCLE FRED!”

  That Mrs. Crump lady came out to talk to us.

  “Hi, everybody,” she said. “Welcome to Funderama. Hey, look under your seats.”

  I looked under my seat. There was a box of Porky’s Pork Sausages down there.

  “You get pork sausages!” shouted Mrs. Crump, pointing at the bleachers. “And you get pork sausages! And you get pork sausages!”

  The cue card guy held up a sign that said CLAP, and we all clapped.

  “Say, kids, what time is it?” asked Mrs. Crump.

  “IT’S UNCLE FRED TIME!” we all screamed,

  “Are you kids excited?”

  “YEAH!”

  “Are we gonna have fun?”

  “YEAH!”

  “Are you ready?”

  “YEAH!”

  “I-CAN’T-HEAR-YOU!”

  “YEAH!” we shouted louder, so she could hear us.

  “Here’s . . . Uncle Fred!”

  The cue card guy held up a sign that said GO CRAZY. We all went crazy.

  Uncle Fred came running out. He had on his Joe King hand puppet. It looked just like the one he threw into the fireplace. I guess he has a bunch of Joe King hand puppets.

  “Hello, Joe,” Uncle Fred said.

  “Hello, Uncle Fred,” said Joe King.

  “Nice weather we’ve been having,” said Uncle Fred.

  “Yes,” said Joe King. “They say it may rain on Friday.”

  “Do you want to play golf next week, Joe?”

  “Yes,” replied Joe King. “I need to work on my putting.”

  “How’s business, old man?”

  “I made a million dollars on Tuesday,” replied Joe King.

  “Well, that’s inflation,” said Uncle Fred. “You should buy a new car.”

  It was weird! Uncle Fred was just saying the same stuff we said when we were playing Talk Like a Grown-Up. He wasn’t funny at all. Kids were looking around. I saw one kid yawn.

  The cue card guy held up a sign that said CLAP. Nobody clapped.

  “Borrrrr-rrrring!” somebody yelled.

  “How about some jokes?” shouted some other kid.

  “Yeah, say something funny, Uncle Fred!”

  “How about those Dodgers?” asked Uncle Fred.

  “They may go all the way this season,” replied Joe King.

  “My grass is getting too high,” said Uncle Fred.

  “You need to mow it,” replied Joe King.

  The cue card guy held up a sign that said LAUGH. Nobody laughed.

  “They’re talking like grown-ups!” some kid shouted.

  “BOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

  “Uncle Fred isn’t funny anymore!” somebody shouted.

  “WE DON’T WANT UNCLE FRED!” everybody started chanting. “WE DON’T WANT UNCLE FRED!”

  Some kid took one of his pork sausages and threw it at Uncle Fred. He ducked to get out of the way. Then a bunch of kids started throwing pork sausages at Uncle Fred. Mrs. Crump came running out.

  “STOP!” she screamed, holding up her hands.

  She looked really mad! I thought she was going to yell at us for throwing pork sausages at Uncle Fred. But she didn’t. Instead, she yelled at Uncle Fred.

  “That’s the last straw!”* Mrs. Crump shouted at him.

  Huh? What did straws have to do with anything?

  “Fred,” she said. “You’re fired!”

  “Fired? Why?” asked Uncle Fred. “What did I do?”

  “You got boring!” said Mrs. Crump.

  Uncle Fred looked angry, like he was going to throw another one of his temper tantrums.

  “You can’t fire me!” he shouted. “I’m a star! I’ve been doing this show for thirty years!”

  Then Uncle Fred started crying again.

  “I don’t care how long you’ve been doing the show!” said Mrs. Crump. “Get lost, buster! And take that silly hand puppet with you!”

  We left the TV studio. Everybody was sad and angry about Uncle Fred getting fired.

  “This is all your fault!” I told Andrea. “You’re the one who told him he needed to act like a grown-up!”

  “No, it’s all your fault, Arlo!” Andrea replied. “You’re the one who taught him how to act like a grown-up!”

  “Oooooooooh,” said Ryan. “A.J. and Andrea are having a lover’s spat. They must be in love!”

  “When are you gonna get married?” asked Michael.

  It was probably all our fault that Uncle Fred got fired. He was a famous celebrity, and we ruined his life. I felt terrible about it. I wanted to run away to Antarctica and go live with the penguins.

  “Bingle boo!” Mrs. Kormel said as we got back on the bus. “Did you have fun at Funderama?”

  “Don’t ask,” mumbled Andrea.

  “It was a disaster,” said Mrs. Stoker.

  We took our seats on the bus. Nobody was talking to anybody else. We just sat there.

  That’s when the weirdest thing in the history of the world happened. Mrs. Kormel was about to pull out of the parking lot when we saw Uncle Fred walk out the back door of the studio. He was hanging his head and shuffling his feet as he walked slowly to his car.

  “He looks so sad,” said Emily. “I feel sorry for him.”

  Suddenly Mrs. Stoker got up from her seat.

  “STOP THE BUS!” she shouted.

  Mrs. Kormel slammed on the brakes. The bus screeched to a halt.

  Mrs. Stoker ran off the bus and went over to Uncle Fred. We opened the bus windows, so we could hear what they were saying to each other.

  “Uncle Fred!” shouted Mrs. Stoker. “We all feel terrible about what happened.”

  “My career is over,” Uncle Fred replied sadly. “I’m finished.”

  “I just had a crazy idea,” said Mrs. Stoker. “The music teacher at our school, Mr. Loring, just retired.”

  “So?” asked Uncle Fred.

  “Would you have any interest in becoming . . . a music teacher?” asked Mrs. Stoker.

  “What?!” asked Uncle Fred. “Me? A music teacher? Are you serious?”

  “Of course I’m serious,” said Mrs. Stoker. “You love music. You’re great with kids. And you’re extremely silly. You’re just the kind of person we need to be the new music teacher at Ella Mentry School!”

  Mrs. Stoker is a genius. She should get the Nobel Prize for that idea. That’s a prize they give out to people who don’t have bells.

  “Well, uh, I . . . suppose . . . maybe, uh,” said Uncle Fred, thinking it over. “Sure! I’d love to be your music teacher!”

  “YAY!” we all shouted out the bus windows. That’s also “YAY” backward.*

  When we got to school the next day, we pledged the allegiance and did Word of the Day with Miss Banks.

  “Okay,” she said, “take out your anatomy textbooks.”

  What?! I don’t even know what anatomy is. We don’t have any anatomy textbook.

  “Just kidding,” said Miss Banks. “We’re going to start the day with music class!”

  All of the sudden, the lights started flashing. Sirens went off. And you’ll never believe in a million hundred years who ran through the door.

  Nobody! You can’t run through doors! Doors are made out of wood. But you’ll never believe who ran through the doorway.

  It was Uncle Fred, of course! He was holding a banjo.

  “It’s Uncle Fred time!” yelled Miss Banks.

  “Howdy, kids!” Uncle Fred shouted. And then he started playing his banjo and singing . . .

  It’s Uncle Freddy time.

  I love to sing and rhyme.

  I like to dance and play.

  I’ll dance the day away.

  I’m like a little kid.

  I’ll make you flip your lid.

  Forget about bedtime,

  it’s Uncle Freddy time!

  We all sang the song again while Uncle Fred danced around like a lunatic.

  “Hey, I’ve got an idea!” he shouted. “Let’s play musical chairs!”*

  Musical chairs is a weird game. The object of the game isn’t to score points or make goals like in a regular game. No, the object of the game is to sit down. Nobody knows why. But it’s fun. Sometimes, you have to knock the other kids over just so you can sit in a chair.

  We set up some chairs in the front of the room. While Uncle Fred started the music, Miss Banks lined up a bunch of paper plates on the windowsill. I guess we were going to have snacks after we finished playing musical chairs.

  “Line up and march around the chairs,” shouted Uncle Fred. “When the music stops, sit down . . . if you can!”

  We all walked around and around the chairs while Uncle Fred played his banjo.

  Then suddenly, he stopped.

  We all dove for the chairs.

  Michael was the only one who didn’t get to sit down.

  “Bummer in the summer!” Michael shouted.

  “Sorry, Michael!” said Uncle Fred. “You’re out of the game.”

  Uncle Fred went over to the windowsill. Miss Banks was spraying whipped cream onto the paper plates. Uncle Fred picked one of them up. And you’ll never believe what happened next.

  He walked over to Michael and threw the paper plate at him! It hit Michael right in the face.

  “Get lost, buster!” Uncle Fred shouted.

  “Oh, snap!” said Ryan.

  “Why did you do that?” asked Michael, wiping the whipped cream off his face. “That’s not how you play musical chairs!”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” said Uncle Fred. “I changed the rules.”

  “I can’t believe you did that!” said Miss Banks. Then Miss Banks picked up a whipped cream pie and threw it at Uncle Fred.

  Bam! Right in the kisser.

  “I don’t approve of this violence,” Andrea said.

  “What do you have against violins?” I asked her.

  Andrea needs to get a sense of humor transplant. I picked up a whipped cream pie and threw it at her face. I got her good. She was really mad!

  “Pie fight!” somebody shouted.

  Andrea picked up a pie and threw it at me, but I ducked and it hit Emily in the face. She started crying, of course. Then Ryan threw a pie at Michael. Michael threw a pie at Alexia. Alexia threw a pie at Neil. Neil threw a pie at Andrea.*

  “Help!”

  “I have pie in my eye!”

  “Run for your lives!”

  We were all throwing pies at each other! Whipped cream was everywhere. Everybody was yelling and screaming and hooting and hollering and freaking out.

  It was the best music class ever!

  Well, that’s pretty much what happened. I guess grown-ups can be silly sometimes, and sometimes they can be mature. And sometimes, they can even act like babies. Maybe Uncle Fred will be a great music teacher. Maybe we’ll find out what was inside the Magic Treasure Chest. Maybe Mrs. Crump will get her hearing checked. Maybe I’ll get a virtual-reality time-machine headband. Maybe we’ll learn about the history of garbage cans. Maybe A.J. from the future will come so both of us can go back to 1857 and watch Joseph Gayetty invent toilet paper.

  But it won’t be easy!

  About the Author and Illustrator

  Courtesy of Dan Gutman and Jim Paillot

  DAN GUTMAN has written many weird books for kids. He lives with his weird wife in New York (a very weird place). You can visit him on his weird website at dangutman.com.

  JIM PAILLOT lives in Arizona (another weird place) with his weird wife and two weird children. Isn’t that weird? You can visit him on his weird website at jimpaillot.com.

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

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  Copyright

  MY WEIRDTASTIC SCHOOL #2: UNCLE FRED IS A KNUCKLEHEAD! Text copyright © 2023 by Dan Gutman. Illustrations copyright © 2023 by Jim Paillot. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  www.harpercollinschildrens.com

  Cover art © 2023 by Jim Paillot

  * * *

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2022944218

  ISBN 978-0-06-320696-0 (pbk bdg) — ISBN 978-0-06-320697-7 (trade bdg)

  * * *

  23 24 25 26 27 PC/CWR 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  FIRST EDITION

  Digital Edition JUNE 2023 ISBN: 978-0-06-320698-4

  Print ISBN: 978-0-06-320696-0

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  * What are you looking down here for? The story is up there!

  * Buses must be really patient because they spend so much time waiting.

  * I didn’t want all the kids to make fun of my name.

  * Because everybody wants to know how sausages are made, right?

  * It is! Go on YouTube and search for “dropping watermelons.”

  * That’s a kind of dance that plumbers do.

  * That makes no sense. You can’t grow down.

  * I know all about inflation. That’s when you put air in your bike tires.

  * If they run out of straws, they should just buy a new box.

  * Wait! Is this book going to have a happy ending? Ugh! Disgusting!

  * That’s ridorkulous. Chairs can’t play music.

  * Do NOT do this at your school!