2 The Smellatorium

THE SMELLATORIUM

On Monday after school, Webster asked Stink, "So what's your plan?" "Plan? What plan?" "The super-smelly plan that's going to make us ninety-nine gazillion dollars. So we can both buy the book? So we can go to the Midnight Zombie Walk?" "Don't have one." "But you said..." "I just said that to mess with my sister." "We need a not-fake plan," said Webster. "Let's think," said Stink. "Two brains are better than one." He slurped a brain-shaped sucker. Webster munched Zombie Zitz and Candy Scabs. Ding! "I know," said Stink. "Let's have a blowout yard sale and sell all our old stuff. Like

action figures we don't play with anymore." "Yeah! We can sell dinosaurs, cowboys, Mr. Spud Head, Debbie Dump Truck, my old Handy Andy, and Buzz Lightspeed. Too preschool." "Deal," said Stink.*** Webster ran home to raid his closet. He came back with a big box. In the box was one old marble, a toy lizard without a tail, and a plastic egg. "That's it?" asked Stink. "This is so not going to make us rich." "Giving away stuff is harder than I thought," said Webster. "Tell me about it," said Stink. He pointed to the small pile on his bed. One Poky Little Puppy, a broken light saber, and a Red Robot pencil sharpener. "Actually, I think I want to keep the pencil sharpener," said Stink.

"Forget it," said Webster. "Judy's right. This plan stinks." "The stinkiest." Stink sharpened pencils with his Red Robot. Pencil shavings littered the floor. They looked like moth wings. He picked them up and sniffed. They smelled good, like trees.

"Wait a second," said Stink. "Maybe I do have a stinky plan after all." "What is it?" "We sell smells," said Stink. "Shells?" "No, smells! We get a paper cup, right? We put smelly stuff in the cup. Then we charge fifty cents for people to smell it." "What people?" Stink shrugged. "Any people." "But who's going to give us money just to smell stuff?" "You'll see. People love to smell stuff." "People don't love to smell skunks." "But we can sell good smells, like... berries and dirt and stuff. No skunks. And no corpse flowers." "Who will pay us to smell dirt?" "Riley Rottenberger. She likes anything rotten." "Riley Rottenberger would pay to smell putrid rotten burgers," said Webster.***

Stink set up a table in the yard and lined up his smell cups. Candy cane, pinecone, cinnamon, fruit gum, dirt, and dish soap. "Dish soap?" asked Webster. "What? It smells good. Like lemons." Also pencil shavings and eraser crumbs. Stink made a sign. 50￠ A SMELL. He set a fancy dish on the table. He put one dollar in the dish. "The secret to selling stuff is you put some of your own money out. People see it, and they'll pay money to smell stuff, too. Plus the fancy dish makes it look like a real store. Trust me." "Fifty cents a sniff!" yelled Webster. "Two for a dollar!" Stink called to anybody who came down the street. Mrs. Ling, the neighbor. Jack Frost, the mailman. But they all said, "No, thanks."