Mr. Chickee's Messy Mission Read Online Free PDF

Club.”
    Russell reached in his front shirt pocket and opened his hand. There in the middle of his palm sat the world's shiveringest, shakingest, quiveringest, quakingest little dog, Rodney Rodent.
    Steven couldn't believe his eyes. It looked like Rodney Rodent was even smaller than he'd been a couple of days before!
    Russell said, “The first person is Rodney Rodent, and Ithink he'd be a good club member because he's great at not getting noticed, he doesn't eat anything but cheese-burg deluxes with heavy olives, and even Daddy says he's the best because he hasn't barked or done anything annoying yet. The only sound he makes are funny little whines.”
    Steven said, “And what job should Rodney Rodent have in the club, Mr. Secretary?”
    “Well, Mr. President, since he's so good at getting in places without anyone seeing him, I think he would be perfect as the Flint Future Detectives number one sneak. He can also be the official map reader and number one bug chaser.”
    Steven said, “If anyone objects to Rodney Rodent becoming the number one sneak, official map reader and number one bug chaser, let them speak now or forever rest in peace.”
    The room was quiet. But Richelle's eyes rolled so hard they did almost make a sound.
    “Oh, man,” Steven thought, “here we go! Eye of the tiger, grrrrr! Eye of the tiger, grrrrr! Eye of the …,” then he said to Russ, “Is there any other new business?”
    “Yes, Mr. President, one other person would like to become a member. …”
    Richelle Cyrus-Herndon said, “Excuse me. I said I'd
think
about being a member, and after I've seen how this meeting is run, I'm not so sure I'd …”
    Steven had a flash of honesty with himself; he knewthat the smartest person really
should
be in charge. He knew Richelle really was probably better qualified to be president. He knew she'd probably find better things to investigate than he had. He knew he should let her be the leader.
    He knew all of that, but he still couldn't bring himself to show Richelle any respect.
    He said, “Oh, yeah? Really, huh? You think I'm going to fight you over this? Well, I'm not! Go ahead! You can be president! It's not the great job you think it is!”
    Russell said, “If anyone objects to Richelle Cyrus-Herndon becoming the new president of the Flint Future Detectives, let them speak now or forever rest in peace.”
    No one spoke. No one said a peep. In fact, the only sound that could be heard came from the room where Great-great-grampa Carter's dictionary was kept, and that sound went something like this:
    “Y-y-y-y-y!” BOOM!
    And if Steven had bothered to look at what the dictionary had written to him, he would have seen:
    “Capitulation ([kuh-pit-you-LAY-shun]
n. The act of complete and total surrender. Giving up when confronted, with no realistic hope of winning. In other words, ‘You got played big-time, Bucko!’
)”
    When Steven finally did check the dictionary a couple of days later as part of his new job as the Flint Future Detectives chief looker-upper, he read, “The word is out that you are no longer president of the club. Alas, so this is how itends, not with a bang but with a whimper. What a wuss ([woos]
n. A weakling, a wimp
).
    And even though Steven would be doggoned if he was going to look up
whimper
, he didn't know why, but all of a sudden he let out a long, moaning cry mixed with low, plaintive broken sounds.

The Evil Mural!
    A LMOST A WEEK LATER Russell Braithewaite Woods was in the middle of another weird dream.
    In this one Richelle Cyrus-Herndon said, “Oh, Russell, I can't be president of the Flint Future Detectives anymore. I need you to take over, because we all know who's
really
the smartest kid at Clark Elementary! And who is also the handsomest and the best eater of lots of food!”
    Then in the dream Steven said, “Oh, yes, Russell, not only are you a large and powerful eater of all kinds of food, you are also the best friend Zoopy ever had. Please, please be