“Ouch, my aching head!” says Professor Stupido. “Where are we?”
“Well,” I say, “judging by the grass, the shade and all the trees, I’d say we’re in some sort of forest.”
“I think you’re right, Andy,” says Terry, “because, look, over there is a sign saying ‘SOME SORT OF FOREST’.”
“Actually,” I say, looking around, “that’s one of your signs and this is our forest.”
“Yes!” says Terry. “And there’s our treehouse!”
“Uh-oh…” I say. “Watch out! Here come the hands!”
“What’s happening?” says Professor Stupido.
“It’s the machine we were telling you about,” I say. “It slaps us away whenever we get too close to the treehouse.”
“I’ll soon put a stop to that,” says Professor Stupido.
“Yay!” says Terry. “Thanks, Professor! You’re the best!”
“Don’t mention it,” says Professor Stupido. “Is there anything else you would like un-invented while I’m at it?”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” I say quickly, before he can un-invent anything we don’t want un-invented. “I expect you’ll be wanting to get back to the dark side of the moon now, so we’ll just draw another rocket and get you on your way.”
“Hold on,” says the professor, “not so fast. What about those marshmallows I was promised?”
“Come inside,” says Terry, “and have as many as you like! And we’ve also got a lemonade fountain, a chocolate waterfall and a 78-flavor ice-cream parlor!”
“It’s not hot ice cream is it?” says the professor suspiciously. “I hate hot ice cream!”
“No, it’s cold ice cream,” says Terry. “That’s the only sort we have on Earth now. You un-invented hot ice cream, remember?”
“Oh, so I did!” he chuckles. “I’ve un-invented so many things it’s hard to keep track of them all!”
We let ourselves into the treehouse and as soon as we’re inside the marshmallow machine senses how hungry we are and starts firing marshmallows at us.
Terry and I open our mouths and start swallowing as fast as we can. But Professor Stupido puts up his hands and yells, “Oh no, we’re under attack again!”
“No, we’re not,” I try to explain through a mouthful of marshmallows. “The marshmallow machine is just doing what it’s supposed to.”
But I don’t think Professor Stupido understands me because he points at the machine and says:
Suddenly, the marshmallow machine is gone.
“You idiot!” yells Terry. “You un-invented our marshmallow machine! What are we going to eat now?”
Uh-oh. I haven’t known Professor Stupido for very long but I’m guessing he’s not the sort of person you should call an idiot.
“Did I hear correctly, boy?” says the professor, glaring at Terry. “Did you just call me an idiot?”
Terry looks terrified.
“Uh, er, um…” he stammers.
“Well?” says the professor. “I’m waiting!”
“NO!” says Terry, thinking faster than I’ve ever seen him think before. “I said, ‘Thanks for getting rid of it!’”
Professor Stupido beams at Terry. “Oh, don’t mention it,” he says. “Nothing gives me more pleasure than to un-invent annoying and dangerous things. And speaking of dangerous, is that a tank of man-eating sharks I see?”
“Y-yes,” I say nervously, “but they’re not dangerous, they only eat fish.”
“They did eat Captain Woodenhead, though,” says Terry.
“So they are man-eaters!” says the professor. “I knew it! I’ll have them un-invented in a jiffy.”
“Please don’t un-invent them,” I say. “Man-eating sharks are cool!”
“They’re not cool, they’re cruel!” says the professor. “And that’s exactly why I’m going to un-invent them. Stand back!”
I stare at the empty shark tank.
I think Professor Stupido may have become a bigger threat to the treehouse than the Once-upon-a-time machine.
We have to get rid of him—and fast!
But before I can say—or do—anything …
a bowling ball falls through the air …
narrowly misses Professor Stupido’s head …
and crashes down onto the floor beside him.
“Oh my goodness!” says Professor Stupido. “Is there a bowling alley up there?”
“Yeah,” says Terry. “Our treehouse has got everything!”
“Not any more it hasn’t,” says Professor Stupido.
“Oh no!” I say. “There goes our bowling alley!”
“Yes,” says Terry, “but look on the bright side—at least he didn’t un-invent the penguins.”
“Penguins?” says Professor Stupido. “Did you say penguins? Can’t stand them! They’re even worse than frogpotamuses! I’ll un-invent them right away!”
Professor Stupido has barely finished un-inventing penguins when the doorbell rings.
“What’s that annoying ringing noise?” he says.
“It’s just the doorbell,” I say quickly. “But please don’t un-invent it or we won’t know when someone’s at the door.”
“All right,” sighs the professor. “I won’t un-invent your precious doorbell.”
“Hi, Andy! Hi, Terry!” calls a familiar voice. “Mail!”
“Who’s that?” says Professor Stupido.
“It’s Bill,” says Terry. “Bill the postman!”
“Any mail for me?” says the professor.
“I’ll just check,” says Bill. “What’s your name?”
“Professor Stupido,” he says.
“I’m afraid not,” says Bill.
“Blast it all!” says the professor. “I hate not getting mail. Consider yourself—and all your kind—un-invented, Bill the postman.”
Poor Bill!
Terry and I look at each other but don’t dare say a thing.
Professor Stupido yawns. “All this un-inventing has made me tired,” he says. “I think I’ll have a little rest.”
“Phew!” I whisper to Terry. “At least he won’t be able to un-invent anything while he’s asleep.”
Professor Stupido has only been gone for a few minutes when the loudest guitar solo you ever heard fills the treehouse.
There’s only one guitar player on Earth who can play that loudly. Well, maybe two. And I’m pretty sure Professor Stupido is not going to like either of them.
Professor Stupido climbs back down the ladder. “I can’t sleep,” he shouts over the music. “What is that awful racket?”
“That’s not an awful racket,” says Terry. “That’s Jimi Handrix and Superfinger. They’re playing at the opera house.”
“Not any more they’re not!” says Professor Stupido.
“Oh no,” says Terry. “You un-invented Jimi Handrix!”
“And Superfinger!” I say. “What will all the people with problems requiring finger-based solutions do now?”
“I can fix that,” says the professor. “I’ll just un-invent problems requiring finger-based solutions.”
But before he can do that, The Trunkinator stomps into the room and punches him in the nose.
“What was that for?” says the professor, looking up at The Trunkinator.
“I think he’s upset about you un-inventing Jimi Handrix,” says Terry.
“Yeah. He’s a big fan,” I say. “Possibly the biggest.”
The professor tries to get up but The Trunkinator smashes him back down and starts flattening him like a pancake.
“Right, that’s it, pal!” shouts the professor. “You’re un-invented!”
Suddenly the tree starts to shake.
“What’s that?” I say. “What’s happening now?”
“It sounds like The Trunkinator stomping around,” says Terry.
“But The Trunkinator just got un-invented,” I say.
“Then it must be the volcano,” says Terry. “I think it’s erupting!”
“But when you put it in you promised me it was the non-erupting kind!” I say.
“I know,” says Terry. “But it looks like I was wrong. Anyone can make a little mistake.”
“This is not a ‘little mistake’!” I yell. “It’s a HUGE DISASTER!”
“No problem,” says the professor. “I’ll just un-invent volcanoes!”
“But I love volcanoes!” says Terry.
“So you’d rather be covered in red-hot lava?” says the professor incredulously.
“Um, let me think,” says Terry.
“It’s not something you need to think about, Terry!” I say. I turn to the professor. “Un-invent volcanoes … quick!”
“Consider it done,” says the professor.
“Oh no,” says Terry. “How are we going to toast our marshmallows now?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “There’s no such thing as marshmallows any more, remember? Professor Stupido un-invented them.”
“Oh yeah,” says Terry sadly. “I remember.”
That’s when we hear the unmistakable sound of Professor Stupido un-inventing something else.
“Uh-oh,” says Terry. “What has he un-invented now?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“But I’ve got a terrible feeling he’s not going to be happy until he has un-invented EVERYTHING!”
