The Fourth Stall, Part 2
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The life of crime is good.Mac has taken down legendary high school crime boss Staples, business has been booming, and Mac and Vince are getting ready for middle school baseball tryouts. But this can’t last. Mac has always tried to keep his friends close and his enemies closer. But what happens when you can’t tell the difference?
This dilemma walks into the fourth stall in the form of Trixie Von Parkway—an eighth grader with a mean look and an even meaner predicament. The new science teacher is terrorizing her, and she needs Mac to get him off her back. Seems simple enough, but as Mac starts to dig deeper, he finds even more trouble brewing at his school, including a new administrator bent on destroying his business, and indications that Trixie isn’t who she claims to be. In the past, the worst thing that could have happened to Mac was that he might lose a little money, maybe catch a beating. In The Fourth Stall Part II, though, there’s going to be much more on the line than that.
was set on getting some new gadget, there was no stopping him anyway. He probably spent like ten grand a month on new phones because he was obsessed with always having the best one. I mean, who cares if your phone is waterproof up to ten feet or fireproof for up to ten minutes? It’s not like you’ll be making phone calls from the middle of a raging inferno or from the bottom of a lake. I shook my head while fiddling with Tyrell’s cool miniature TV. Some people and their weird technology
and bubbling inside me like percolating hot coffee. “Yeah, I thought so,” I said. “He’s been on my case lately.” “It’s worse than that, though, Mac. He came to me yesterday and asked for the key to this bathroom. He said he’s been trying to get in here, and he wanted me to unlock it for him. I told him it was closed for health reasons, and he said he didn’t care.” I shook my head. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not with all the business I had to take care of. I needed my office. I didn’t
height, weight, beard length, etc., etc.; a large black Magic Marker with no ink left; three down pillows—two white, the third “yellow-ing”; and—here’s the kicker and the reason Vince claims the time machine wasn’t working properly—a large English-speaking badger with an IQ of exactly 134. Amazingly Vince rounded up all that other stuff, but until he found that badger, he claimed his time machine would only function at one setting: moving forward in time at regular speed. Anyways, unless Vince
From the looks on their faces I could tell something was up. “Dr. George,” Mr. Simpson said. “Perhaps you should step outside with us?” “Why? What’s going on?” he demanded. Mr. Kjelson pointed up in the corner where our camera was still mounted. “Everything that has been happening in here just played on the big screen in the Olson Olson Theatre.” “What? No, that’s not possible. The recorders aren’t even in here!” Dr. George yelled. “It’s a wireless signal,” Hannah said from the doorway.
another kind of doctor, too. I’m not sure exactly how that works, but all I know is that in my experience the fake doctors like Dr. George were usually a lot meaner, and thought they were the smartest people alive. My fears were confirmed when our new VP walked up onto the stage. I recognized his stiff toupee from the pictures he’d had in the papers. His eyes bulged from his skull like analog sticks on a PlayStation controller. He and Dickerson shook hands and then George stepped to the podium.