Recipe for Disaster Page 2

  “Please!” the Muffin Man said. “Don’t make me stop. My muffins make the kids happy. I never want to stop.”

  “I’m not going to make you stop. I just have to figure out where to put you.”

  “I have an idea,” he said. “There’s a storage room in the basement of the school. It’s right next to where I used to work as a furnace. It’s practically empty. We can set up my bakery there,” said the Muffin Man.

  “Good idea,” Franny said. “After dark, we’ll immediately begin moving you to the new location.”

  CHAPTER NINE JUST WHAT THEY KNEADED

  You were right,” Franny said to the Muffin Man. “This is a perfect place to set up your bakery. Now you can work as late as you want, and we have space to work on our other projects.”

  The Muffin Man slid a tray of muffins into his built-in oven.

  “Just stay out of the way and be quiet,” she told him. “We don’t need to let everybody know that you’re down here.”

  Igor reached for a muffin.

  “No!” Franny said. “I told you before. These are for the bake sale. Keep your paws off them.”

  Igor nodded.

  “Good night,” Franny called out to the Muffin Man as they headed up the stairs, but he didn’t answer back. He was concentrating on making a great big batch of muffins for all the smiling, happy kids who would be waiting for them the next morning.

  CHAPTER TEN IT’S BAKING THEM CRAZY

  The next morning, the bake sale table was mobbed. Almost every kid in the school was there, and they were not happy.

  They were yelling and shouting and demanding their muffins.

  Mona and Vincent collected big handfuls of money as kids bought all the muffins they could hold.

  Franny was delighted.

  “Wow! So many muffins! And look at all that money!”

  “They are really craving these things,” Mona said as she took a bite from her own muffin.

  Franny looked around at the kids.

  “I don’t think I recognize everybody here. Are some of these kids from other schools?”

  “Maybe,” Vincent shouted above the crowd.

  At recess, most of the kids sat on the ground, or leaned against the wall eating crumbs off their shirts.

  They were too full to do anything. Only a couple of them even talked, and all they talked about was eating muffins.

  Over the next few days, Franny noticed that most of the kids were eating muffins instead of their lunches, and some were complaining that their clothes didn’t fit them very well anymore.

  The muffin sales just kept growing, and more and more kids from other schools were showing up to buy them.

  Franny caught up with Mona and Vincent after another after-school muffin sellout.

  “You should have plenty of money for the art and music departments by now,” Franny said.

  “Probably,” Mona replied. “I’m just not that interested in the money anymore.”

  “Yeah,” Vincent added. “When I’m practicing the flute, I’m just thinking about how I could be using my mouth to eat muffins instead.”

  How could muffins be that important to anybody? Franny thought to herself.

  On the way out of the building, Franny stopped by the art room. There were piles of unused supplies. And the music room had unopened boxes and boxes of brand-new instruments.

  “This is weird,” Franny said. “But I guess if they’re not interested in that stuff anymore, that’s up to them. And I have projects of my own waiting for me back at the lab.”

  After dinner and homework, Franny went to her lab and got back to work on her new inventions.

  “Igor!” she shouted. “Please come here and hold these wires while I tighten this screw.”

  But Igor didn’t come.

  “IGOR!” she shouted again.

  Igor didn’t answer.

  He wasn’t painting. He wasn’t practicing his gymnastics. He wasn’t even playing hide-and-go-bite with the monsters.

  Igor had disappeared for a few days before, so Franny didn’t worry much.

  Once, he’d joined the circus for a few days.

  Another time he’d tried alligator wrestling.

  He’d even tried to be a fashion model.

  “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” Franny said to herself. “Sometimes he just gets curious and wants to try something. He’ll be back.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN MAYBE THE BAKED GOODS ARE BAKED BADS

  The next day at school there was nobody at the bake sale table.

  There weren’t even any kids in the hallways or classrooms, either.

  “Did I accidentally show up here on a Saturday again?” Franny asked herself.

  “No. This is something stranger than that. I wish Igor was here to help me.”

  She pulled her burp-sniffing robot out of her backpack.

  “I’ll bet I can modify this to sniff out other things,” she said, and with a few little adjustments, a couple rubber bands, and a handful of paper clips, she finished it.

  “Find Igor,” she told it. “Should be easy; he kind of smells like a burp.” And it started sniffing its way down the hall.

  The robot stopped in front of the door to the school basement and beeped.

  “Down there?” she asked it, and it beeped again.

  “I wonder what he’s doing down there,” she said, and slowly walked down the stairs.

  As she headed downward, she heard the sounds of people working and she started to smell the muffins baking.

  “Maybe the Muffin Man has seen Igor,” she said as she came around the corner and saw exactly what was going on.

  Long tables lined the basement with kids mixing ingredients and pouring them into muffin pans.

  Igor was loading the pans into one of the brand-new ovens along the wall.

  If this wasn’t odd enough, everybody also seemed almost half asleep.

  “Oh, hi, Franny,” the Muffin Man said cheerfully. “Isn’t this great? Do you want to help?”

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “We’re making muffins,” he said. “And not just for the kids at this school. We’re making them for everybody, everywhere. Soon, the whole world will get to enjoy my wonderful muffins.”

  Franny shook Mona’s shoulder.

  “Mona! Why are you doing this?”

  Mona looked at her and smiled weakly.

  “He pays us in muffins, Franny. If we help, we can have all the muffins we want.”

  “These were just supposed to be for the bake sale,” Franny said. “To raise money for art supplies and musical instruments.”

  Mona shrugged.

  “The muffins are the only thing we care about now, Franny.”

  “Well, I’m shutting this thing down,” Franny said. “Right this minute. No more muffins.”

  The kids stopped what they were doing and looked at her angrily.

  Even Igor growled at her.

  “You don’t understand, Franny,” the Muffin Man said. “I used to just be the furnace here at the school.”

  “I know that. I built you,” Franny snapped.

  “I did my best to heat the school and make the kids happy. But it was always too hot for some, and too cold for others. No matter what I did, I couldn’t satisfy them all.”

  The kids went back to working on the muffins as he spoke.

  “But then you made me into a baker. And I came up with my wonderful recipe. And everybody loves it. They’re all happy now.”

  Franny knew she couldn’t just turn him off. He was too big and heavy to attack. Plus, he was burning hot. Even if she somehow managed to tip him over, his fire could burn down the school.

  There were too many kids in the basement for her to start a fight with the Muffin Man. It was too dangerous. Franny had to think fast.

  “Yes,” Franny said, pretending to be encouraging. “You’ve done a great job here. I’m not surprised that people like the muffins so much. It’s a spectac
ular recipe.”

  The Muffin Man smiled at her.

  “Of course, the muffins would be even better if these kids had real skills like yours. I mean, you were designed to be the greatest baker-these guys are just trying to do their best.”

  “But I’m training them,” the Muffin Man said.

  “Yeah, and I’m sure they’re okay. And they’ll get better eventually-years from now,” Franny said.

  “But you taught me everything in a single night,” the Muffin Man said.

  “Well, yes.” Franny smiled. “I’m a scientist. I use special scientific equipment. But don’t worry about it. Your way is fine.”

  The Muffin Man thought for a moment.

  “Will you help me train them to be expert bakers? You could go get your equipment. I can pay you in muffins. You can have all you want.”

  “I don’t think so,” Franny said.

  “Just try one,” the Muffin Man said, and he grabbed her and pushed one toward her face.

  Franny struggled. She knew she did not want to eat one of those.

  “I’m, um, full,” Franny said. “I’ve been eating them all morning.

  “But just to be nice, I’ll go to my lab, grab a few things, and be right back,” Franny said, pulling away from the Muffin Man’s grasp. “C’mon, Igor. You can help me.”

  Igor looked at her and shook his head. Franny was shocked. Igor was refusing to help her! He had been eating the muffins too. He was under their spell.

  “Oh. I guess you’re busy,” she said. “That’s okay, Igor. I can do it by myself.”

  And Franny ran up the stairs and all the way home.

  “Even Igor is hooked on those muffins!” Franny cried.

  She had been able to count on him since the day she got him.

  In some ways, she had never felt more alone.

  CHAPTER TWELVE SMART COOKIES DON’T CRUMBLE

  Franny dug through a box of inventions.

  “I have NO IDEA what to do! I mean, my Octagonner will turn the Muffin Man into an octopus, but what if that lets him bake things four times as fast?” she wondered.

  “I could just launch him to the moon in a rocket, but the kids all know the recipe now, and they’ll just keep making muffins on their own-and I’m not sending all those kids to the moon with him.

  “I suppose I could just lock them all down there in the basement, and at least they couldn’t give muffins to anybody else. But that wouldn’t be fair. It’s not really their fault.

  “I’ve always known how to fight great big monsters, but this is different.”

  Franny sat down and looked at a painting that Igor had done of himself and smiled.

  “I guess he’ll never paint one of me now,” she said sadly.

  “Wait a second,” she said. “Even if I can’t convince them to get rid of those muffins, I might know who can!”

  And in a flash, Franny was running back to the school basement.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN HAVE YOU SEEN, MUFFIN MAN?

  In the short time Franny had been gone, the muffins were already piling up in the lobby and spilling out the doors of the school. It wouldn’t be long before the Muffin Man really did have enough for the whole world.

  She made her way back down into the basement.

  “Looks like you are really cooking,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  Igor whirled round and eyed her suspiciously. Muffins were all that mattered to him now, and he knew that Franny could be very tricky.

  “I, um, brought a special helmet,” Franny said, pulling the invention out of her backpack. “It will let us download all of your awesome baking skills into the brains of all your helpers here.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” the Muffin Man said. “Who should go first?”

  “Oh, anybody, I guess,” Franny said. “How about Mona?”

  Igor let out a low growl.

  Franny positioned the helmet on top of Mona’s head and smiled at the Muffin Man.

  “Pretty soon she’ll be almost as good at baking as you,” she said.

  Mona smiled at Franny and said, “That’s perfect. I always wanted to be a muffin maker.”

  “I thought you always wanted to be an artist?” Franny whispered to her, and she shrugged.

  Igor began to move toward them.

  Franny leaned in close so that nobody but Mona could hear her.

  “Mona, this is my Visualizer Helmet. When I turn this on, you’re going to get a look at the future that awaits you. You’re going to see what these muffins will bring you.”

  “I’ll bet it’s going to be great,” Mona said.

  “Now visualize your future, Mona,” Franny said, and she flipped the switch.

  Mona saw herself as a teenager, making muffins and selling them to people. She did not look very happy.

  As the helmet hummed, she saw farther into her future. She looked even worse-she was alone and her brushes and canvases were unused in the corner. She looked sick.

  She saw her little brother and her friends eating the muffins, and never accomplishing much more than that.

  She got older and older and it never got better.

  A tear rolled down her cheek.

  “You’re right. I did want to be an artist,” she whimpered.

  Franny took the helmet off her.

  “Franny, I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to do this to myself.”

  “Just keep these thoughts to yourself for now,” Franny told her softly, “and go get Vincent.”

  Soon Vincent was visualizing his future. He wasn’t a musician. He wasn’t really anything. He was just an unhappy adult who had sold his flute to buy muffins.

  Franny took off the helmet and told him to do just as Mona had done, and to bring another kid over.

  But then Franny heard Igor behind her, snarling.

  “You know that I’m up to something, don’t you?” she said, reaching for a muffin.

  “You’re right, Igor. I am. I’ve figured out how to make these muffins even better,” she said, and she dropped one into the helmet.

  He was still suspicious, but he knew that Franny was smart enough to make anything better.

  “Just try it,” she said, and she held out the helmet like it was his old, familiar dog dish.

  Igor sniffed cautiously and then slowly stuck his face into the helmet.

  Suddenly, Franny pulled it over his head and turned it on.

  Igor saw his future.

  He was an old dog now, missing some teeth and living on the streets.

  He limped along, whining and groaning. He had no home, no muffins, and worst of all, no Franny.

  No Franny.

  He pulled his head out of the helmet. He couldn’t look at her. He was ashamed of himself.

  Franny hugged him.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “You understand now.”

  Igor nodded.

  Franny snuck around, carefully putting the helmet on each kid, revealing to them what their future would hold if they kept eating the muffins-their hopes of being doctors, lawyers, athletes, dancers… the muffins destroyed all of those dreams.

  Each kid tore off their apron and threw down their spoon and mixing bowl.

  “WE QUIT!!” they shouted.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN KISS THE COOK (GOOD-BYE)

  The fire inside the Muffin Man blazed and his eyes glowed with menacing orange flames.

  “It’s over, Muffin Man,” Franny said, and she gestured toward the kids who were shoveling the muffins into the trash.

  “They realize now what you’re making them sacrifice. Your muffins are history.”

  The Muffin Man laughed a hollow, metallic laugh.

  “You think this is the end?” he roared. “This muffin recipe is perfect. I’m going to share this with the whole world. Even if these kids have stopped eating them for now, they’ll start again. And then I’ll make EVERYBODY EVERYWHERE HAPPY.”

  Franny looked at Igor.

  “You remember any of you
r gymnastics?” she asked him, and she hoisted him onto her shoulders.

  With a jump and a twist, Igor flipped through the air and shoved the humming Visualizer Helmet down on the head of the Muffin Man.

  The Muffin Man stood in a state of shock as the Visualizer Helmet showed him a vision of his future.

  It was a sad, bleak future where people shuffled around aimlessly. They ate nothing but his muffins, and they did it without joy.

  It was a horrible, unhappy world that he had created, and the Muffin Man couldn’t bear to look at it.

  He slowly removed the helmet.

  “But… I promised never to do anything destructive,” he said sorrowfully.

  He dropped the helmet to the ground.

  “I promised to make the best thing I possibly could.”

  The Muffin Man slouched and the fire inside him shrank to just a few glowing embers.

  “My muffins don’t really make people happy, do they?” he asked Franny.

  “At first, they think they’re happy,” she said. “But that doesn’t last long. People are usually happiest when they’re creating things, or learning things, or trying to make the world or themselves better.”

  The Muffin Man nodded.

  “No more muffin making,” he said. And he dropped his little chef’s hat and shuffled away, clinking and clanking up the stairs.

  “He’s gone!” Mona said. “You beat him, Franny!”

  The kids cheered.