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sent me sprawling into the dirt. Ha-ha. Big joke, right?
    There we were at Lake Choking Gas. The lake shimmered like gold in the morning sun. Pine trees dropped their needles onto the sandy shore. It was beautiful—if you held your nose.
    They don’t call it Lake Choking Gas for nothing !
    The list of games had been posted on a tree by Coach Manley Bunz:
HORSEBACK RIDING
ARCHERY
ROWING
HORSESHOES
VOLLEYBALL
BENDING BERNIE INTO A PRETZEL
    I know. That last one wasn’t really on the list. But I knew Jennifer Ecch would probably be adding it soon.
    I turned and watched Sherman and his partner, April-May. They walked their horses out onto the path. They were both petting Lippy for luck.

    They had big grins on their faces. They knew they couldn’t lose.
    Coach Bunz walked over to them, his big belly bouncing in front of him. Coach’s stomach always arrives five or ten seconds before he does.
    My mouth dropped open. Coach Bunz was pointing to the silver I. B. Rotten Trophy. And he was already congratulating Sherman and April-May!
    â€œThis isn’t happening,” I muttered, shaking my head. “This can’t happen to Bernie B.”
    Suddenly, I had an idea.
    I saw Feenman and Crench down the path. They were partners. But I saw that they were off to a bad start. They had strapped the saddles onto their horses’ stomachs, not their backs.
    I called them over. Should I tell them their mistake?
    â€œDudes, do me favor,” I said. “Remember when you rubbed all the good luck off Lippy?”
    â€œIt was an accident, Bernie,” Feenman said. “We didn’t mean to do it.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it,” I said. “Just go over to Sherman and do it again.”

    They stared at me. “Rub Lippy’s feathers off again?” Crench said.
    I nodded. “Beg Sherman to let you touch Lippy for luck. Then rub him bald again.”
    â€œNo problem,” Feenman said. “Maybe it’ll give Crench and me good luck, and we’ll win the Rotten Trophy.”
    I looked at their horses. Saddles on their stomachs. Pitiful.
    â€œYeah. Maybe you dudes will get lucky,” I said.
    And maybe I’ll lay an egg at breakfast tomorrow.
    Feenman and Crench turned and trotted down the bridle path to Sherman and April-May. I watched them beg and plead with Sherman to let them touch Lippy.
    Then I watched them pick the bird up—and rub Lippy like crazy.
    Feathers flew. Lippy was bald again. I could see the goose bumps on his yellow skin.

    â€œGood work, dudes!” I shouted.
    But would it work?
    Would it turn Lippy into a bad-luck bird again?
    Would it turn Sherman into the big loser of the day?

Chapter 21
L -O-S-E-R
    The answer to those questions is a very big YES!
    Bad-Luck Lippy instantly became WORST LUCK Lippy!
    With the parrot on his shoulder, poor Sherman didn’t stand a chance. He should have tattooed L-O-S-E-R on his forehead!
    I would never call myself a genius, of course. I’ll leave that to you. But here’s how it went down:
    HORSEBACK RIDING: Jennifer and I won easily after Lippy scared Sherman’s horse and it ran headfirst into a tree. The horse staggered around likeit was drunk, and Sherman had to hitch a ride with April-May.
    ARCHERY: Sherman was about to let his arrow go at the target. Lippy let out a deafening squawk. Sherman’s arm jumped. And he shot his arrow into Coach Bunz’s butt. Bernie and Jennifer win again.
    ROWING: Just as Sherman and April-May were nearing the finish line, Worst Luck Lippy fell out of the boat. Sherman dove into the lake to save him. April-May had to drag them both out of Lake Choking Gas—stinking to high heaven. By that time, Jennifer and Bernie B. had won the race.
    HORSESHOES: Sherman and April-May were winning—until Worst Luck Lippy dug his claws into Sherman’s shoulder. Sherman clonked himself in the head with a horseshoe and had to go lie down under a tree. Another