This Can't Be Happening at Macdonald Hall (6 page)

“Pretty slick.”

“
Very
slick,” Boots agreed sarcastically. “So slick I've lost my privileges for three months! And that means I can't go to the dance at Miss Scrimmage's on Saturday.”

“What makes you think they'd let us in there anyway? Remember what we did the last time?”

Boots smiled as he recalled the last dance — Miss Scrimmage's gymnasium hung with pink and silver streamers, the walls ringing with music and laughter. It was just as the buffet supper was about to be served that the forty ounces of scotch Bruno and Boots had poured into the punch bowl reached Miss Scrimmage's head. Suddenly she ripped the chaperone's badge off her shapeless black dress, hauled a startled Mr. Sturgeon onto the dance floor and started into her own extraordinary version of the funky chicken. At that point the young ladies lost what little restraint they had and the party quickly turned into a wild rock festival, with Miss Scrimmage being the life of the party. The next morning she could not get out of bed and seemed to be suffering from something that looked suspiciously like a hangover.

“Three months without privileges!” scoffed Bruno, jolting Boots back to the present. “Mine were suspended indefinitely! But I don't care — Diane's not going to be at the dance anyway.”

“Cathy will,” said Boots miserably. “By the way, speaking of Diane, what were you doing with Petunia?”

With a great smile of satisfaction Bruno related the first episode of the ants and then their second coming. “To make a long story short,” he concluded, “the exterminator has had to come twice — at
my
expense. I'm now known as Bad Luck Bruno in Dormitory 2. Elmer is so scared of me he just about faints when I walk into the room.”

“So where is all this getting us?” demanded Boots.

“I don't know about you,” Bruno replied, “but my dorm is circulating a petition to get rid of me. If it comes to you, sign it.”

“But that doesn't help me,” Boots complained. “I cannot and
will not
live in this hospital-stock exchange any longer!”

Bruno shrugged and stretched out on George's bed. George probably would have collapsed had he known that his bed was absorbing another person's germs.

“We'll just have to show The Fish how awful George and Elmer really are,” Boots decided.

“How can we do that?” Bruno protested. “They're only awful to us.”

“Well then, we'll just have to
make
them awful,” Boots insisted. “Report to the old cannon at 0100 hours Sunday with a collection of distinguishable Elmer Drimsdale possessions. I'll bring some stuff belonging to George. If we can't frame them right into the Don Jail, my name isn't Melvin P. O'Neal! As of this moment,” he added, “the
p
stands for ‘pushed around for the last time'!”

George was carefully hanging up his tuxedo and brushing off the velvet lapels. “What a superb evening!” he remarked, knowing full well how much Boots had wanted to go to the dance. “The young ladies danced like angels, and the ballroom was a masterpiece of décor.”

“It really must have been great,” Boots agreed sarcastically. “After all, what could be more elegant than waltzing over the foul lines of a basketball court?”

George ignored him. “And the food — a really extravagant buffet!”

“Yes, I know,” said Boots sourly. “Colonel Sanders' boys make it finger-lickin good.”

“It's a shame that you were unable to attend, Melvin, but if you insist on acting like a barbarian —”

“Just shut up and go to sleep,” Boots snapped.

George changed into his pyjamas, still trying to give the impression that he had had an enchanting evening.

“You know, I'm sort of glad I didn't go,” Boots murmured reflectively. “Can you imagine all the germs a guy could pick up at that kind of affair?”

George sniffed and got into bed without another word.

When his roommate was sound asleep, Boots went into operation. Fifteen minutes later the window opened and out he went — along with a monogrammed money clip, a shiny new cell phone and a gold pen and pencil set, all clearly the property of George Wexford-Smyth III.

* * *

Elmer had not gone to the dance either. “I don't see how everyone can go and dance with
girls
,” he said with disgust. “Girls are so icky! I'm glad you didn't go, Bruno. At least one person in this school besides me has some sense.”

“Yes, Elmer,” Bruno sighed, ready to make his move as soon as his roommate went to sleep. He watched in dismay as Elmer set up an elaborate tripod supporting a high-powered telescope. “Aren't you going to bed?” he asked.

“On a clear night?” Elmer replied, as if Bruno had suggested the impossible. “On a clear night I can scan the whole sky.”

“Why in the world would you want to do that?”

“I'm an astronomer,” Elmer explained. “My world is the heavens, the universe, the vastness of intergalactic space … Now if you'll excuse me, my telescope is a little out of focus.”

“
You
are a little out of focus,” said Bruno sourly.

“Ah,” said Elmer, squinting into the eyepiece and turning two knobs on the side, “it's coming clearer. Yes, I see it — the horsehead nebula!”

“Mmm-hmm,” grunted Bruno. Instead of contemplating the universe, he was concentrating on the problem of getting out through the window with Elmer so firmly established there.

Elmer was providing a running commentary. “Look! Can it be? Yes — the crab nebula! Caused by an exploding star millions of years ago!”

“Mmm-hmm,” Bruno repeated. He tiptoed through the room gathering up some of Elmer's more recognizable possessions — the skull of a rodent, a signed membership in the Toronto Horticultural Society and a corked test tube bearing the label:
Drimsdale, Test 3-A, Sept. 15
. Now how am I going to get out of here? Bruno thought. I'll never get past the housemaster at the main doors.

Elmer was still raving about the crab nebula and was even starting to sketch it when Bruno opened the door. “Bruno, this is fabulous! I've never seen such a clear night!” The door shut silently. In a second Bruno was knocking on the door of 205.

“Who is it?” demanded Perry Elbert.

“Me. Bruno.”

“You! Go away,” groaned Perry. “I refuse to open the door.”

“No trouble,” Bruno promised. “Honest. I just have to borrow your window.”

Reluctantly Perry opened the door and let him in. “So long as you're just passing through,” he said.

“Thanks, Perry, you're a pal. I'll be back in an hour.” Bruno swung his legs over the sill and dropped down onto the grass.

At the old cannon, Boots was waiting for him. “What took you so long?” he asked indignantly.

“You won't believe this,” Bruno said, “but Elmer is an astronomer. His world is
out of this world
! Tonight is a clear night, the crab nebula looks sharp — and I had to find another window. Now, where are we going?”

“Miss Scrimmage's.” Boots grinned in the darkness. “Elmer Drimsdale and George Wexford-Smyth III are going to stage a shameful panty raid on the young ladies.”

In no time they were across the road, over the wrought-iron fence and under Diane Grant's window. Again pebbles were thrown and the familiar blonde head leaned out.

“Go away, Bruno,” grumbled the girl. “I'm already grounded for a month. Haven't you done enough?”

Bruno ignored her question. “I've got Boots with me,” Bruno whispered. “Can we come up?”

“Are you crazy?” Diane exclaimed. “I'll be shot!”

But Bruno was already climbing the drainpipe to the window ledge. Diane and Cathy, her roommate, reached out and pulled him inside. Boots followed right behind him.

“If we're caught …” Diane threatened.

“Don't be silly,” interrupted Bruno. “I
never
get caught. Can you cut the legs off an old pair of panty hose for us?” Then he turned to Boots. “Go ahead. It's your show.”

“Get the girls together for a briefing,” Boots ordered, “and tell them to bring their panties — this is a raid!”

Without a word or a question, Cathy and Diane grinned and set off to gather their friends. As each girl slipped into the room, she deposited a pair of panties in a pillowcase that Boots held out. They showed no surprise at the boys' presence. Miss Scrimmage's young ladies were always ready for some excitement.

Boots cleared his throat. “Girls, this is a panty raid. We are the raiders,
but it isn't us
. We are
really
Elmer Drimsdale and George Wexford-Smyth III. Got it?”

“You've got to be kidding!” one girl protested. “George? That pill? He wouldn't raid anything if it wasn't for money. Give me my panties back.”

“Quiet! Quiet!” Cathy hissed as the girls started to scream with laughter. “Do you want old Scrimmage down here dropping her bloomers in the bag?”

“Who was the other guy?” another girl asked, shaking with laughter. “Elmer Drysdale?”

“Drimsdale,” replied Bruno. “You wouldn't know him. He doesn't like girls — ants are more his type.”

Boots held up his hands for order, then passed around George's and Elmer's belongings. The girls fell silent. “Now, here's what I want you to do,” he explained. “Plant these things around your rooms and mess up your drawers. Then wait. When Bruno and I start yelling up and down the halls, I want to hear screaming.
Real
screaming —
bloodcurdling
screaming. I want chaos and disorder. In short, I want a riot — a full-fledged riot. Can you handle it?”

“Certainly,” said Cathy. “Riots are our specialty.”

“All right,” Boots nodded. “Everybody to battle stations. You've got two minutes to get ready.”

When the girls were gone, Bruno and Boots pulled the nylons over their heads and tiptoed into the hall. “Boy, this is going to be fun,” whispered Bruno.

“
If
we get away with it,” said Boots. “Okay, now!”

The two galloped up and down the hallways like wild horses, shouting in the deepest voices they could manage and banging on the walls. Right on cue, the girls began to scream. They were extremely good at it — adding howling and screeching and slamming of doors for effect.

“Boys! There are boys in the dormitory!”

“Help! They're in my room!”

“Miss Scrimmage! Miss Scrimmage! Help!”

Satisfied that the riot was progressing nicely, Bruno and Boots slipped back into Diane and Cathy's room and shinnied down the drainpipe. Just as they reached the ground Cathy had a great flash of inspiration. She raced down the hall and yanked on the fire-alarm lever. At the deafening clang of the fire bell Bruno and Boots shot over Miss Scrimmage's fence, across the road and onto their own campus. At Macdonald Hall a crowd was already beginning to gather.

Boots grabbed Bruno from behind. “The stocking, you idiot! You're still wearing the stocking!” He snatched it from Bruno's head. “Now's our chance to head for our own dorms and get back into our rooms unnoticed.”

Bruno nodded. “Give me some panties first. If Elmer's going to get blamed for all this, he might as well have something to show for it.”

The two separated. Boots slipped in with the boys from Dormitory 1 and tried to look sleepy in spite of the fact that he was fully dressed. “Hey, where's everybody going?” he demanded.

“Are you deaf?” someone replied. “Miss Scrimmage's is on fire!”

The boys from Dormitory 2 were also outside milling around in confusion. Bruno suddenly found himself standing beside Perry Elbert, who stared at him accusingly.

“You promised,” Perry wailed. “You said no trouble. You lied!”

“No way,” Bruno answered. “I didn't pull that fire alarm.” Then he turned to the noisy crowd and bellowed, “Miss Scrimmage and the girls are in danger! Who can save them?”

“We can!” roared the crowd.

“Follow me, men!” Bruno screamed in delight. “On to Scrimmage's to save the girls!”

With Bruno bellowing at the head of his army, the brave men of Macdonald Hall poured across the road and stormed Miss Scrimmage's campus. Their cries of “Don't worry, girls!” and “Hang in there, girls!” were met by Cathy's ear-splitting scream, “The boys are here! We're saved!”

Suddenly Miss Scrimmage appeared on the front balcony of the residence, wrapped in a bathrobe, her hair in pincurls, her glasses askew on her nose. She was waving a shotgun and shouting hysterically. “Where's the lion?” she screeched. “Hang on, girls, I'll save you!”

BOOM! The shotgun went off by mistake, blasting a large hole in the sign over the main gate. All screaming stopped abruptly. The girls, who had been carried across the highway to safety by the courageous Macdonald Hall army, began to straggle back.

Finally Mr. Sturgeon and several members of his staff arrived on the scene. They entered the residence and investigated until they could assure Miss Scrimmage that there was no fire — and no lion. A few minutes later Mr. Sturgeon came out onto the balcony and addressed his boys. “Return to your rooms at once,” he ordered. “There is no fire. I repeat, return to your rooms at once.”

* * *

When he got back to his room, Boots discovered that George had not yet returned from the scene of the commotion. Whistling cheerfully, he extracted a pair of pink panties from the pillowcase and stuffed them into the pocket of George's tan jacket. The rest of the panties he pushed under George's pillow. Then he climbed into bed and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

Bruno beat the crowd back to Dormitory 2. As he quietly opened the door to his room, Elmer's voice floated out: “Did you know, Bruno, that some scientists think the crab nebula was formed before our solar system? Do you realize that means I'm looking at it as it actually was hundreds of millions of years ago?”