Mr. Burke Is Berserk! by Dan Gutman Page A

“That would be cool !”
    After about a million hundred minutes, the lawn mowers reached the other end of the playground. Mr. Burke jumped off and touched the monkey bars first.
    â€œYee-ha!” he shouted. “Ah’m a-grinnin’ like a weasel in a henhouse.”
    Mr. Klutz gave Mr. Burke a dollar. All the excitement was over, and we had to go into school to start the day. Bummer in the summer!
    â€œMr. Burke is weird,” I said as we walked to class.

    â€œRemember the time he grew a corn maze on the soccer field?” asked Neil.
    â€œRemember the time he mowed big circles in the grass and told us they were made by UFOs?” asked Michael.
    â€œMaybe Mr. Burke isn’t really a grounds-keeper at all,” I said. “Maybe he kidnapped the real groundskeeper and locked him in the equipment shed where he keeps the lawn mowers. Stuff like that happens all the time, you know.”
    â€œStop trying to scare Emily,” said Andrea.
    â€œI’m scared!” said Emily.
    â€œMr. Burke probably escaped from a loony bin,” said Ryan.
    â€œYeah,” I said. “He probably snatches kids during recess and buries them under the monkey bars.”
    â€œWe’ve got to do something!” Emily shouted. Then she started freaking out and went running down the hallway.
    Sheesh, get a grip! That girl will fall for anything .

3
The T Word
    The rest of us walked to class with our teacher, Mr. Granite, who is from another planet. After we put our backpacks into our cubbies and pledged the allegiance, it was time for math. But you’ll never believe who poked his head into the door at that moment.
    Nobody! Poking your head into a door would hurt. But you’ll never believe who poked his head into the doorway .

    It was Mr. Klutz!
    â€œTo what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” asked Mr. Granite.
    That’s grown-up talk for “What are you doing here?”
    â€œRemember when I went to principal camp last year?” he said. “Well, I have to go again. I just wanted to say good-bye.”
    â€œBye!” we all said.
    Principal camp sounds cool. I’ll bet the principals sit around a campfire and toast marshmallows. Maybe I’ll be a principal when I grow up so I can go to camp and eat toasted marshmallows.

    After Mr. Klutz left, Mr. Granite went to the front of the room.
    â€œIt’s time for math,” he said. “Turn to page twenty-three in your—”
    But he didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, because at that moment an announcement came over the loudspeaker.
    â€œAll classes please report to the all-purpose room immediately.”
    â€œNot again !” moaned Mr. Granite.
    â€œYay, no math!” I yelled.
    We had to walk a million hundred miles to the all-purpose room. Along the way, we saw our art teacher, Ms. Hannah, and our music teacher, Mr. Loring. They were each pulling a rolling suitcase.
    â€œWhy did you bring suitcases to school?” Ryan asked them.
    â€œWe take them with us wherever we go,” said Ms. Hannah, “because you never know when you’re going to get fired.”
    â€œWe like to be ready,” added Mr. Loring.
    Ms. Hannah and Mr. Loring are weird.
    In the all-purpose room our class got to sit in the front row. But I had to sit next to annoying Andrea. Ugh, disgusting! I made sure not to let my elbow touch her elbow on the armrest so I wouldn’t catch her girl germs.
    The vice principal, Mrs. Jafee, was on the stage. She held up her hand and made a peace sign, which means “shut up.”
    â€œI’ll be in charge while Mr. Klutz is gone,” she told us. “We have a special guest who would like to speak with us today. How about a big round of applause for Mayor Hubble?”
    We all clapped our hands in circles. Mayor Hubble came down the aisle with two secret service agents behind him. He was smiling, passing out buttons that said REELECT