Wayside School Gets a Little Stranger (Wayside School 3)

She put her cigarette in her mouth, then screamed as she pulled it out.

She looked at the cigarette, puzzled. “Hm?” she said. She placed it back in her mouth, then spit it out onto the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, a little confused. She picked up the cigarette and put it in the ashtray.

“That’s all right,” said Dr. Pickle.

She took out a new cigarette from her pack, but as soon as she put that in her mouth, she spit it out too.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

She walked out of his office shaking her head. She dropped her pack of cigarettes in the trash.

She never smoked again.

It was an interesting thing about the word “potato.” Whenever Fred said it, she slapped him. And he’d ask her why she slapped him, but she never remembered slapping him, so they’d get in a big fight, each calling the other crazy. Then they’d kiss and make up, which was nice because her breath didn’t stink.

They never figured out it had anything to do with saying “potato.” How could they?

But deep down they both must have realized it somehow, because while they used to eat lots of potatoes, they gradually ate fewer and fewer, until they finally stopped eating them altogether.

Dr. Pickle was a good doctor, but he kept playing those kinds of jokes on people. There was a woman who quacked like a duck whenever she saw a freight train with more than twenty cars. There was a man who took off his shoe anytime someone said “parking meter.”

Eventually Dr. Pickle was caught, and he was no longer allowed to practice psychiatry. So he had to find another job.

He became a counselor at an elementary school.

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Chapter 5

A Story with a Disappointing Ending

Paul’s father was a security guard at a museum. The museum had a very famous painting.

It was painted by Leonardo da Vinci. It was called the Mona Lisa.

Next to the painting was a sign.

All day Paul’s father made sure nobody touched the painting.

At night, after the museum closed, Paul’s father was alone. Just him and the Mona Lisa.

And the sign. Do not touch! Do not touch! Do not …

He was dying to touch it. The tips of his fingers tingled with desire.

But this story isn’t about Paul’s father. It’s about Paul.

Paul was a student in Mrs. Jewls’s class. He sat behind Leslie.

Leslie had two long brown pigtails that reached down to her waist. They just hung there, all day, right in front of Paul’s face.

The Mona Leslie.

Do not touch! Do not touch! Do not …

Paul reached out, grabbed, and yanked!