Read Phineas L. MacGuire . . . Gets Slimed! for Free Online Page A

of our trash in a bucket under the kitchen sink.

    Scientifically speaking, this explains the humongous population of red wiggler worms that now live in the dirt out by our swing set.
    But Aretha turned Ben’s offer down. “Can’t do it,” she said. “The election is at the end of next week. There’s no way you could get enough support to win by then, even if I was on your ticket.”
    Ben chewed on his pencil. He got a very sad expression on his face.
    It was his fake sad expression, but Aretha didn’t know that.
    â€œFine,” Ben said. “I guess I’ll just drop out of the race, then. I can’t win without somebody like you, a person that everybody likes and respects and admires, on my ticket.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll justcall my dad tonight and tell him that I’ll be letting him down.”
    Aretha looked at Ben. “Does it really matter to your dad that much?”
    Ben nodded. “It’s what’s keeping him alive. See, he’s got this mysterious illness—”
    I cut Ben off. “What Ben is saying is that his dad has been sort of down in the dumps lately. Ben’s campaign is keeping his mind off of his troubles.”
    That was a lie too, but it was less of a lie than Ben’s lie about his dad’s mysterious illness.
    â€œMy dad’s depressed,” Ben said. “He got fired from his job last week.”
    Great. Lie number three.
    â€œHow come?” Aretha asked.
    â€œHe stole a hundred thousand dollars from the cash register.”

    â€œYour dad worked at a place where they keep a hundred thousand dollars in the cash register?”
    â€œUh-huh,” Ben said. “He works at a bank. He’s a bank teller.”
    â€œHe’s a bank teller and he stole a hundred thousand dollars? And all they did was fire him?” Aretha asked.
    â€œHis trial is in two weeks,” Ben said. “That’s the other reason he’s so depressed.”
    Aretha shook her head. “I know you are making this story up, Ben. I know you are trying to make me feel sorry foryou. Well, I guess your plan has worked, because I feel sorry for anybody who has to make up a bunch of lies just to get somebody else to help him out. That’s pathetic.”

    â€œI know,” Ben admitted. “But I thought it was worth a try.”
    Aretha straightened up in her seat. “Here is the deal. I will run as the vice presidential candidate on your ticket, but I want something in return.”
    She turned to me. “I want you to help me make penicillin.”
    â€œPenicillin? Me?” I asked. “Why? Can’t your doctor give you a prescription?”
    â€œIt’s for a Girl Scout merit badge,” Aretha said. “It’s called A Healthier You. What’s healthier for you than penicillin?”
    â€œI don’t know the first thing about how to make penicillin,” I said.

    Ben leaned over and punched me on the shoulder. “Come on, Mac! You could figure it out. Just buy a kit off the Internet or something!”
    â€œWhat do you say, Mac? It’s a hard-to-beat deal. I’ll help out your friend if you’ll help me out.”
    I sighed. “I guess we could try. But isn’t there an easier way for you to get a merit badge?”
    â€œI don’t do things the easy way,” Aretha said. “I do them the Aretha way.”
    Then she turned to Ben and held up her hand. They slapped high fives. “Okay, Ben,” she said, “we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
    They
had a lot of work to do? What about me? I had to figure out how to make penicillin, the most important medical invention of the twentieth century.

    In case you were wondering, penicillin production is not a normal part of the fourth-grade science curriculum.
    Unless you are Aretha Timmons.

Here is the list of everything I have to get done this weekend:
    Write a speech for Ben for the Meet