BY
MIKE THALER •
ILLUSTRATED BY
JARED LEE
THE
CLASS TRIP
FROM THE
BLACK LAGOON
# 1
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from the Black Lagoon
®
CLASS TRIP
BLACK LAGOON
THE
FROM THE
SCHOLASTIC INC.
CLASS TRIP
BLACK LAGOON
THE
FROM THE
by Mike Thaler
Illustrated by Jared Lee
For Ruwan Jayatilleke,
a dedication to your dedication.
—M.T.
For Stephanie, Cassy, Zachery, Danielle, and
Garrett
—J.L.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted,
downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into
any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means,
whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without
the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding
permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department,
557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
e-ISBN 978-0-545-66779-1
Text copyright © 2002 by Mike Thaler.
Illustrations copyright © 2002 by Jared D. Lee Studio, Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc.
SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered
trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First printing, September 2002
Contents
Chapter 1: The News Blues. . . . . . . . . . . 7
Chapter 2: Exploring the Subject . . . . . . 11
Chapter 3: Destination Speculation . . . . 16
Chapter 4: Wonder Enlightening . . . . . . 23
Chapter 5: This Must Be D-Day . . . . . . . 29
Chapter 6: Off We Go . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
Chapter 7: Into the Wild Blue Yonder . . 37
Chapter 8: Flying High. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
Chapter 9: Jungle Bungle. . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
Chapter 10: Fast Food . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
Chapter 11: In the Grand Sand . . . . . . . 59
Chapter 1
the news blues
We’re going to take a class trip
tomorrow. It’s our first class trip.
I hope it’s a first-class trip!
I’ve read about the Titanic.
Only the first-class passengers
got the good food and lifeboats. I
hope we don’t hit a giant ice cube
and go down the sink.
Maybe we won’t take a boat
at all. Maybe we’ll fly on an
airplane. I still don’t know what
holds those things up. Then
again, maybe we’ll take a train. I
know what holds them up . . .
bandits!
They say, “Getting there is half
the fun.” What’s the other half?
Getting back, of course!
Chapter 2
exploring the
subject
In my history book, I learned a
lot about some famous class
trips. Lewis and Clark’s class
went across America. They
couldn’t find one open motel.
A kid named Chris Columbus
sailed across the ocean. He got
very seasick.
Marco Polo walked to China.
He met a real emperor.
Richard Byrd’s class went to
the South Pole. They met a real
emperor penguin.
And Neil Armstrong went all
the way to the moon. He didn’t
meet anybody.
I wonder where we’re going
and whom we’re going to meet.
Chapter 3
Destination
Speculation
Freddy calls. We talk about all
the possibilities. Then we pick
our favorite one. Freddy wants
to go to Pizza Mutt. I choose
Dizzyland.
But we’ll probably be going to
the nature museum or the art
museum. At one, you look at the
charts, and at the other, you look
at the arts.
Freddy still holds out for Pizza
Mutt. He always looks on the
bright side. He’s an optometrist.
Then Eric calls. He always
looks on the dark side. He’s what
they call a messymist.
He says that ther
e’s a 50-
percent accident rate on class
trips.
Half the class will be carried
off by wild animals, fall off a high
mountain, or drop into a deep
hole. We choose our favorite. We
both pick dropping into a deep
hole, so we can pretend to be
golf balls.
Then Randy calls and says
that sometimes you go to really
dangerous places. Your parents
have to sign a release for
m.
One class went on a picnic to
an active volcano. It erupted and
all they ever found were 15 toasted
peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Another class took a trip to
Antarctica. Is there an uncle-arc-
tica and cousin-arcticas? They’r
e
still defrosting.
My mom says that the first
place I have to go
is to bed
because I have to get up early
tomorrow morning.
Chapter 4
Wonder
Enlightening
It’s hard to fall asleep. I keep
thinking about all the places we
could go. And I worry about all
the things that could happen.
We might make a journey to
the center of the earth. But in
the middle, it’s like the hot fudge
on a sundae.
I don’t even like to go into a
closet. I’m happier when I can
see the sky. Eric says I have
closet-ra-phobia. If we go far
enough, then we’ll come out in
China. Then we could eat lunch
at a Chinese restaurant.
Or maybe we’ll just go to the
bottom of the ocean. There are
many things down there with
lots of teeth and lots of arms. It’s
also very dark. The deepest that
I’ve ever been in the ocean is up
to my ankles.
Maybe we’ll go to Mars. They
put you to sleep, and when you
wake up . . . you’re there.
The things on Mars are even
weirder than the things at the
bottom of the ocean.
They’ve got bigger teeth,
longer arms like springs, and
fingers like plungers. Their
eyeballs are on stalks and wave
around in the air. They all have
bad breath and breathe through
their ears. You have to put your
head in a fishbowl and walk
around in slow motion.
Where in the world are we
going to go? Or where out of the
world? I close my eyes and
wonder. . . .
Chapter 5
This must be d-day
The alarm goes off at 5:30 in
the morning! I hate getting up
early. The chickens ar
en’t even
up yet! And I shuffle into the
bathroom.
My eyes are hardly open. I
squeeze out some toothpaste
and brush my teeth. Boy, it sure
tastes weird. I look at the tube
and it says
BROWN SHOE POLISH.
My shirt feels very small.
Then I discover that my head
is in the sleeve. My pants feel
odd, too. I discover they are on
backward. At least I won’t mess
up with my shoes. Wrong again!
I have the left one on my right
foot. And the right one’s on my
knee. This is not going to be a
great day.
Chapter 6
Off we go
I wonder what I should pack.
Randy says that you have to be
prepared for anything. He says
that he’s taking snowshoes,
malaria pills, signal flares, a
snakebite kit, and a lifeboat.
I think I’ll take my lucky
rabbit’s foot. Of course, it wasn’t
lucky for the rabbit.
Oh, well. I stumble downstairs
for breakfast. I grab a box of
cereal and pour some into a
bowl. Then I pour in some milk.
It all bubbles up. I look at the
cereal box. It says
DISHWASHING
POWDER
. . . . I guess I’ll skip
breakfast.
I open the front door and step
outside. It’s dark and full of
coats. Wrong door. I try again
and really step outside. It is just
as dark but there are no coats.
Even the early birds aren’t up
yet. I feel like an early worm and
wiggle to the corner.
I wait there with my brown
teeth chattering. Out of the
gloom come two lights. It’s the
school bus. Mr. Fenderbender
opens the door and I get on.
All the kids are there, sitting
stiff and staring straight ahead.
They all have brown teeth.
Everybody’s breath smells horri-
ble. A green fog covers all the
windows. I guess we won’t be
singing camp songs today.
After four minor collisions, Mr.
Fenderbender stops and tells us
to get out. Things have to get
better . . . don’t they?
Chapter 7
into the wild
blue yonder
We’re at a small airfield. Mrs.
Green is standing by the first
passenger plane ever made. It
says
BUILT BY THE WRONG BROTHERS
on the side.
As we climb aboard, she hands
each of us a parachute. I guess
we’re not going to the museum.
We strap them on and try to sit in
our seats. I feel like a camel.
Mr. Fenderbender puts on a
pilot’s cap with goggles and sits
up front with Mrs. Green. They
both try to figure out how to
start the plane.
Meanwhile, Eric, the class
clown, pretends to be the flight
attendant and gives the safety
instructions. “In case of the
likely event of a water landing,
your seat cushion can be used as
a flotation unit.” I look down.
There is no seat cushion. This is
definitely not first class.
Doris asks what movie will
be playing. “W
e’re showing a
bunch of selected shorts,” Eric
answers. He smiles and then
reaches into his backpack and
pulls out his underwear. “Gross!”
we yell.
Mr. Fenderbender guns the
engine. We’re all pressed back
in our seats. “Happy landings,”
cackles Mrs. Green.
Chapter 8
flying high
Mr. Fenderbender flies like he
drives. We do loop-de-loops,
barrel rolls, and dives. Penny
throws up. Good thing I didn’t
eat breakfast.
After eight hours of aerial
acrobatics, a red light goes
on. Mrs. Green lines us up
alphabetically, opens the door,
checks our parachutes, and then
pushes us out. Derek is first, but
I’m secooooooond!
We land all over—east, west,
north, and south. There are kids
twisted in every possible
gymnastic position. Mrs. Green
grades us on our landings.
Freddy is the only one who gets
an F. He landed in a lion’s mouth.
We are all a little shorter as we
line up and march off into the
jungle. The lion burps. Freddy
would have liked that.
Chapter 9
jungle bungle
The jungle is having a bad hair
day. It takes every blade in my
Swiss Army knife to hack our
way through.
And you have to be very
careful where you step. All the
animals ar
e party poopers, and
you have to look out for the
dreaded hippo-potty-mess.
The heat beats down on us. It’s
like being in a fur
ry oven.<
br />
All of a sudden, Eric shouts
out, “Knock, knock!”
“Who’s there?” we all ask.
Eric beats his chest and yells,
“Tarzan!”
“Tarzan who?” we ask.
“Tarzan stripes forever!” he
giggles.
I guess that’s a little jungle
joke.
A snake as long as a jumbo jet
slides by. Hairy spiders as big as
hamsters bounce on webs as
large as trampolines.
Penny sniffs a purple flower
and it grabs the end of her nose.
Mrs. Green tells us the name of
the plant in Latin. She says we’ll
have a quiz in an hour.
Randy sees a sandbox and
jumps in. Unfortunately, it’s a
quicksand box. He sinks in up to
his chin. “It’s not recess yet,”
scolds Mrs. Green as she pulls
him out.
Derek pets an orange zebra
with black stripes. Mrs. Green
tells him it’s a tiger and that he
doesn’t have to raise his hand
anymore if he has a question.
Mosquitoes as big as Count
Dracula buzz all around us. They
think it’s lunchtime and that
we’re the special of the day. I feel
like we’re in an all-you-can-eat
restaurant, and we’re on the
menu!
Eric shouts, “Knock, knock!”
“Who’s there?” we all ask.
“Safari,” he says.
We throw up our hands.