Rule the School Read online

  “Attention, students. This is Principal Combover. I have received complaints from the crossing guards that, at the end of the day, a number of students leave Farding and don’t stop when they are instructed to. We will be adding additional crossing guards in an effort to control these Farding students. If you are interested in helping out, please see Coach Whistlespit.”

  With the election scheduled for the following week, it was time to get started on the second prong of my election campaign—make Vordak the Incomprehensible look good. Now, I know what you’re thinking*.

  “What?”

  I said, “I know what you’re thinking.”*

  “And I said, ‘What?’”

  ACK! Do you not see the asterisk after the word thinking?

  “Yeah, I see it. Why?”

  Great Gassy Goblins! Don’t you know how asterisks work?! Look at the footnote at the bottom of the previous page and see what it means!

  “Okay. Hold on a second. Ah. Got it. That you’re so good looking …”

  Hold on! I need to start over again or none of this will make any sense. Are you ready?

  “Yeppers.”

  All right, here we go. It was time to get started on the second prong of my election campaign—make Vordak the Incomprehensible look good. Now, I know what you’re thinking*.

  “That you’re so good looking already, what more could you possibly do?”

  Exactly.

  “Sorry, but that’s not what I was thinking.”

  ACK! It’s what EVERYONE was thinking, you deranged doofus! Sure, simply by showing up at school every day I was giving voters an eyeful of my hands down, high-end handsomeness. But I needed to do more to interact with the students, to let them get to know me outside the classroom. And this crossing-guard thing was just the ticket.

  I began my tour of duty at four o’clock that afternoon.

  I was relieved of duty by Coach Whistlespit promptly at 4:02. I didn’t have the opportunity to meet many kids, but I am proud to say I set the record for the shortest time anyone has held the position in the forty-seven-year history of the school!

  Benny Yoshida arrived at our desk Tuesday with a cold. Amazingly, this resulted in an even higher level of nasal discharge than usual. What’s worse, it also resulted in occasional sneezing.

  Shockingly, Waxclog still hadn’t delivered Benny’s new desk. Well, enough was enough! I decided to take matters into my own hands and brought something in for show-and-tell the next day.

  “Attention, students. This is Principal Combover. Mr. Shinetop’s rocket club will meet for the first time today after school. Blast off with other Farding students and see how high you can go.”

  ROCKETS! Perhaps I hadn’t given this school a fair chance. Any educational institution with its own space program couldn’t be all bad. And this provided an excellent opportunity to interact with student voters who shared my interest in interplanetary travel. Since this was the first meeting of the year, I figured we would be limited to an orbit or two around the earth, so I brought one of my smaller rockets.

  I was shocked to find that none of the other astronauts were outfitted for a journey into space. And how in Yorvath’s name were they going to fit inside those tiny little spacecrafts? I asked Shinetop what kind of sorry space program he was running.

  He said this was a model rocket club and that most of the rockets reached a height of about three hundred feet. Three hundred feet? Last I checked, there were no planets within three hundred feet of the earth’s surface. ACK! With Shinetop heading the program, not only would we not be orbiting the earth or any other planetary object, I wasn’t even allowed to man my rocket. I decided to save fuel and just shut the launch down altogether. It was just as well, I suppose—the science fair was tomorrow and I had some last-minute adjustments to make on my matter-transporter pods.

  VALUABLE BONUS INFORMATION!

  All right, I’ve decided to take a brief break from the telling of my intriguing tale in order to give you a valuable piece of bonus information. I have no idea why I would do something like this, but you should consider yourself extremely fortunate because you certainly don’t deserve it. Anyway, without further ado, I present you with …

  VORDAK THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE’S

  SURE FIRE WAY TO GET BETTER GRADES ON TESTS

  1. Volunteer to collect the completed exams and bring them to the teacher’s desk.

  2. Before you hand them in, use your belt-buckle-mounted heat beam to incinerate everyone’s test except for yours and Donald Lubener’s, who has not once in his academic career achieved a grade above D-.

  3. Convince the teacher to grade on a curve.

  NOTE: This technique only works if you have Donald Lubener in your class AND you are smarter than he is.

  The day of the science fair had finally arrived, and what a thoroughly thrilling Thursday it was! My main objective, of course, was to use my Miraculous Matter Transporter to nab the balsoid coil from Lipwartz’s fortified kitchen. But I also HAD TO HAVE that first-place ribbon! If there is an award to be won, Vordak the Incomprehensible shall win it! That’s a motto of mine, along with Nothing conquered, nothing gained and You can rearrange the letters in COMMANDER VIRTUE to get CRUDE VOMITER MAN.

  That morning, we all set up our display boards in the gymnasium, but some of the students were waiting until the start of the fair that evening to bring in their actual projects. I originally thought winning that ribbon would be a cinch, but it was looking like I might have some real competition.

  Vortex generators? Hovercrafts? I may have underestimated my adolescent adversaries. How are twelve-year olds even capable of such feats of genius? Other than me, I mean. I’ll bet they had help from their parents.

  “Attention, students. This is Principal Combover. I would like to remind you that there are still plenty of openings to make beautiful music as a member of our very own Farding band. If you’re interested, stop by the music room after school today.”

  Since my exhibit was set up and ready to go, I had some free time at the end of the day. My excitement was building and I needed something to pass the time before the start of the fair. I decided to impress my fellow students, and voters, by treating their grateful ears to a sampling of my legendary musical prowess. I dropped by the music room and, after a thorough evaluation of my musical ability, was given an instrument that “matched my skill level.”

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, they stuck me in the brass section, which presented a couple of real problems—Curtis Clef and Stephen Sharp.

  How could a musician with my obvious gifts be expected to fully display his immense talent while having to deal with these decidedly distracting dimwits? Luckily, Security Minion Little Vince Sminion was in the room (he plays the piccolo) and helped solve both problems quickly and efficiently, although it may have cost me a couple votes.

  The science fair that evening was an opportunity for everyone to witness my true brilliance, so long as the other projects didn’t outshine my own magnificent matter transporter. I was particularly worried about the vortex generator—powerful, roaring funnels of nearly unimaginable destructive energy tend to be real crowd pleasers. I had a backup plan ready just in case. It consisted of my hand, the fire alarm, and a firm, crisp pulling motion. As it turned out, I had no need to worry.

  The hovercraft was cobbled together from a pie tin, a straw, and a balloon. And the vortex generator consisted of two two-liter soda bottles taped together and filled with colored water. That first-place ribbon was as good as mine! MUAHAHAHAHA!!!

  After an hour or so of demonstrating my tyrannical transporter, I decided to stroll around and check out the other exhibits. Who knows, I might discover a future super-intellectual to bring into my organization and replace Professor Cranium. Someone capable of designing brilliantly evil weapons and diabolically clever yet extremely slow-acting Superhero death traps. No such luck, unless my plans to conquer the planet included a miniature papier-mâché mountain that spewed vinega
r and baking soda. There was one interesting display involving a large magnet, but I was quickly reminded of why I seldom use magnetism in my own sinister schemes.

  I returned to my own project to find the prizes had been awarded.

  GREAT GASSY GOBLINS! That was totally unfair! The first thing I’m going to do once I Rule the World is teleport all junior high schools to Venus. First prize actually went to Myron H., but his award came under the condition that he promise never to open his project on school property.

  After cooling off a bit, I did what was necessary for EVIL PLAN 1794 by altering one of the transporter pods to resemble a refrigerator and moving it near the entrance to the kitchen.

  I also altered the science-fair awards to more accurately reflect their worth.

  Friday at lunch, I noticed that my disguised matter-transportation pod had indeed been moved into the kitchen, next to the dishwasher, which had the coil on the back. YES! Another of Vordak the Incomprehensible’s diabolical EVIL PLANS was coming together! MUAHAHAHAHA!!!

  I had the Vinces take the other pod to my lair so that, when the time came, everything was set for me to transport myself to the school, grab the coil, and transport back. But I had to be patient. There was still Commander Virtue to dispose of, and that could only happen once I became class president and organized Career Day.

  The election was only a week away, and I still had plenty to do. My attempts to socialize with the other students in order to better let them experience my immense glory had not gone as well as I had hoped. I needed something bigger. I needed something where more eyes could be upon me. I needed an announcement from Combover.

  “Attention, students. This is Principal Combover. Just a reminder that we have a home basketball game tonight against our archrival, Doss. Let’s really pack the stands and let those Owls know just how loud a gymnasium full of Farding Ferrets can be!”

  An entire gym filled with voters! This was the opportunity I had been waiting for. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but I sent word for my campaign minions to meet me after school at the game.

  As it turned out, the Doss bus broke down on the way to the game and they arrived an hour late. I didn’t have time to go home and come back again, so I sat there and watched the entertainment, which consisted of Jonah Shtorp running around in a giant ferret costume.

  Which gave me yet another brilliant idea. Just before halftime, Shtorp left to use the bathroom. I dispatched Little Vince to “borrow” the head from him while Big Vince came up with the most efficient design possible for a five-person pyramid. Apparently, Shtorp was still wearing the fish on his noggin because it smelled like a baked-bean factory’s port-a-john inside that ferret head. But Supervillainy requires true dedication, so I took a deep breath, donned the costume, and joined my minions at center court.

  The good news is the whole thing went off without a hitch. Well, other than the collapsed abdomen suffered by Myron H. The bad news is nobody saw us, because a glowing Marlena Lurchburger was handing out free candy and “Vote for Marlena” buttons in the far corner of the gym.

  * You respond by saying, “That you’re so good looking already, what more could you possibly do?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Monday morning started off a bit slowly. Apparently my run-in with the magnet during the science fair had a few lingering effects.

  Who even knew Coach Whistlespit had a metal plate in his head? Luckily, I remembered reading on the science-project board that striking an object sharply can demagnetize it. So, after prying the helmet clean of metal objects, I had Myron H. put it on and run into the wall a few hundred times.

  The election was Friday and I was into the final phase of the second prong of my strategy—make Vordak the Incomprehensible look good. I figured I still needed one big event to set me up perfectly to defeat Lurchburger. I spent the remainder of Monday and Tuesday just going through the motions in my classes, waiting impatiently for Combover to provide me with another opportunity to showcase my amazingosity.

  “Attention, students. This is Principal Combover. As you know, the school play, Pirates of the Caribbean, will be held tomorrow evening in the cafeteria. As an added treat, the choir will be performing its Farding rendition of ‘Oh! Susanna’ during the intermission. I hope to see you all there along with your families.”

  And there it was! Now, I had never acted in a play, because the thought of spending time as someone other than Vordak the Incomprehensible, even for a short while, seemed unbearable. But I needed the votes, and I knew that with one look at me in the spotlight, the audience would be smitten. So I went to see Miss Purdy, the play’s director, after school.

  I DEMAND TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE PLAY YOU’RE PUTTING ON TOMORROW EVENING!

  WELL, WE’LL BE PERFORMING THE MUSICAL VERSION OF PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN. YOU SHOULD COME. I THINK YOU’LL REALLY ENJOY IT. BY THE WAY, CONSIDERATE STUDENTS DON’T DEMAND THINGS— THEY ASK POLITELY

  I’M SURE THEY DO. NOW, I DEMAND TO PLAY THE ROLE OF JACK SPARROW. I REQUIRE A SCRIPT IMMEDIATELY SO I CAN BEGIN GOING OVER MY LINES!

  I’M SORRY, BUT THE CAST AND CREW HAVE BEEN REHEARSING FOR THE PAST THREE WEEKS AND ALL THE ROLES HAVE BEEN FILLED. CRAIG VIRTUE WILL BE PLAYING JACK SPARROW

  WHAT?! I HAVE MORE ACTING TALENT IN MY LEFT BOOT THAN THAT SORRY SON OF A SUPERHERO HAS IN HIS ENTIRE MISERABLE BODY!

  WELL, ALL THE MAIN ROLES ARE ALREADY FILLED, BUT I CERTAINLY WOULD HATE TO TURN AWAY ANY INTERESTED STUDENT. I’LL TELL YOU WHAT—BE HERE AN HOUR EARLY TOMORROW NIGHT AND I’LL COME UP WITH A SPECIAL PART FOR YOU TO PLAY. BY THE WAY, CONSIDERATE STUDENTS DON’T CALL OTHER STUDENTS NAMES.

  I’M SURE THEY DON’T, BUT THAT’S BECAUSE THEY’REIMBECILES.

  So, a SPECIAL part! It appeared Miss Purdy had an eye for talent, after all.

  Well, pea-brained Purdy didn’t put quite as much effort into creating my role as I had expected.

  When I first arrived, I overheard Combover and Purdy talking. Combover was nervous about me being in the play, but Purdy assured him there was no way I could do any harm with the role she gave me. I love a challenge!

  I wasn’t invited to take a bow during the curtain call.

  Election day was here at last! And I was getting that warm, fuzzy feeling I had whenever I was about to conquer something. My part in the play had hardly been memorable, but the sinking of the pirate ship had certainly seared me into the minds of everyone in attendance. Lurchburger and I would give our speeches during an assembly at 11:00 a.m. Imagine, a mere girl of twelve attempting to match the oratory onslaught of Vordak the Incomprehensible! I, who have issued ultimatums to kings! I, who have threatened entire continents over the television airwaves. I, who once spent over two hours revealing to Commander Virtue, while he was groaning in the grisly grasp of yet another of my diabolically cleve yet extremely slow-acting death traps, the details of my EVIL PLAN to make all the world’s escalators run only in the downward direction. Sure, he went on to escape and thwart my EVIL PLAN, but that’s beside the point. I can give a heck of a speech!

  I had no doubt I could win the election fair and square. I also had no doubt that “fair and square” is a concept that no self-respecting Supervillain would ever be caught abiding by. So I went to prong three of my campaign strategy (cheating) and, when she wasn’t looking, I snatched Lurchburger’s speech from her backpack, made a minor change, and slipped it back in.

  After the speeches, the students would vote and I would be coronated named class president promptly at 3:00, at which time I would allow student and teacher groveling to begin. But first I had to sit through art class, where it was “Popsicle stick” day. Miss Purdy, who also happens to be the art teacher, instructed us to create something imaginative by gluing Popsicle sticks together and then painting our creations in an artistic manner. Most of the kid made either picture frames or coasters. For the last fifty years most kids have made either picture frames or coasters. And they never get any better.

  How this can be classi
fied as “art” is beyond me I refused to be dragged down to the loathsome level of my talentless classmates. If I was to spend an entire hour creating a work of art, the subject must be worthy of my talent and effort. And there is only one such subject in existence!

  Eleven o’clock arrived and Marlena Lurchburger did not disappoint—me! She read her speech, complete with my little revision. I don’t think she realized what she had said because she didn’t even flinch.

  Then came my turn—time to finish Lurchburger off with a brilliant, rousing, epic speech to my future underlings. My wondrous words would without doubt win the day. I gathered a deep breath and unleashed my awe-inspiring address.

  Greetings, you sorry sack of simpletons. Let me get right to the point. Leaders are chosen because they are smarter, stronger, and better looking than those they will lead. Does that sound like Marlena Lurchburger to you? Of course not! It sounds like me, Vordak the Incomprehensible! Therefore, I am the obvious choice to become your Supreme Ruler— err, class president. Now, those of you who can operate a pencil— vote quickly! I have much yet to accomplish! MUAHAHAHAHA!!!

  Yes, it sounded as magnificent in person as it does reading it here. In fact, it brings a tear to my eye just thinking about it. Now it was just a matter of waiting until three o’clock for the countdown to the destruction of Commander Virtue to begin!