SPEW CLUE

Phil’s workshop was set up inside a toolshed in the Cohens’ backyard. A homemade sign on the door read GENIUS AT WORK!

The door was half-open, so the brothers slipped inside. The workshop was filled with all kinds of gadgets and gizmos that he’d invented and built himself.

“Where are we going to find Izumi’s tank in all this stuff?” Joe asked.

“I found something already,” said Frank. “Look.”

Joe saw Frank holding a badge from the Junior Inventors Challenge. Phil’s name was on the badge as well as the location and time.

“The contest was held yesterday in Cedarville,” Frank pointed out. “At nine o’clock in the morning.”

“Cedarville is a long way from here,” Joe said. “Phil would have had to have left super early to get there on time.”

“Phil called us super early yesterday,” Frank said, still studying the badge. “At seven thirty, remember?”

Joe didn’t answer. Frank looked up from the badge to see his brother standing next to a familiar robot.

“Frank, it’s Munchy!” said Joe. “I wonder how Phil got him to eat my pizza the other day.”

“Don’t press any buttons, Joe,” Frank warned. But it was already too late. Joe had pressed what he thought was the start button and—

PHOO—PHOO—SPLAT!

The brothers yelped as green and brown mush spewed from Munchy’s mouth!

“Joe, turn it off!” Frank shouted.

“I would if I knew how!” Joe shouted back.

The projectile mush hit the walls and landed in glops on the floor. Frank and Joe frantically searched for the off button until they heard a high squealing noise. It came from a small pink pig scurrying into the shed!

Munchy still spewed mush-rockets. But all the brothers could do was gawk at the pig as it feasted on a gloppy puddle.

“I think we found Phil’s unusual new pet,” Frank said.

“Yeah,” said Joe. “And it’s not a stag beetle.”

Phil raced in next, shouting, “Hey! What’s happening? What are you doing?”

“Trying to stop your robot,” Frank said. “Can you give us a hand?”

Phil groaned, dropping his rolled-up yoga mat. He raced over to Munchy and snapped open a compartment to reveal three more buttons. He pressed one and Munchy’s mouth clamped shut.

“So… what did I do wrong?” asked Joe.

“You pressed the eject button, that’s what,” Phil said. “It made Munchy spit out the compost.”

“Sorry, Phil,” said Joe.

“We were looking for Aki’s beetle, Izumi,” Frank said. “We had him for the weekend until he disappeared.”

“You mean the lucky bug?” Phil asked. “Why would he be in here?”

“You wanted good luck for the contest,” Frank explained. “You also left a message saying you had a lucky charm.”

Phil nodded and said, “I called you from my dad’s phone on the way to the contest. But my lucky charm wasn’t the beetle.”

Joe pointed to the pig and said, “You mean it was the oinkster?”

“You bet!” said Phil with a grin. “Meet Pinky, a miniature potbellied pig.”

“Since when are pigs good luck?” Joe asked.

“To some they are,” Phil explained. “I borrowed Pinky from my cousin’s farm. He said I could keep him as long as I wanted.”

Phil looked down at Pinky and sighed. “I think I’ll return him, though.”

“Because he wasn’t good luck?” asked Frank.

“No,” Phil replied, “Because he’s a total mess!”

Joe wrinkled his nose as Pinky smeared compost across the floor with his snout. “How did you take him all the way to Cedarville?” he asked.

“My parents wouldn’t let me take Pinky to the contest,” Phil replied, “but I won third prize anyway!”

“Awesome, Phil!” Frank exclaimed.

“What did you win?” asked Joe.

“Two weeks at Camp Galileo,” Phil said. “It’s not the whole summer, but I’ll take it.”

With a loud snort, Pinky scampered out of the workshop. Frank and Joe helped wipe up the mess with wads of paper towels. When they got most of it off the walls and floor, the brothers said goodbye to Phil.

“I’m glad Phil didn’t take Izumi,” Frank said as they walked away from the Cohen house.

“I’m glad he’s not our who too,” Joe said, before taking out their clue book. “But now we have no more suspects. And Aki will be by in a few hours!”

“I know, I know,” Frank groaned. “What are we going to tell him?”

Glumly the brothers walked home. Halfway there, Joe stopped to point at a truck parked on the street. “Frank,” he said. “Check it out.”

Frank stopped to see where Joe was pointing. The truck belonged to Stan’s Pest Control. On the side of the truck was a picture of a floppy-eared beagle. Under the dog were the words LET MR. SNIFF SNIFF OUT YOUR BEDBUGS!

“What do you think, Frank?” Joe asked. “Don’t we know that dog?”