Fart Squad #5: Underpantsed!
By Seamus Pilger and Stephen Gilpin
4.5/5
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About this ebook
It’s the fifth adventure from the crack of the crop, the bum de la bum, the stink of the litter . . . the fearless FART SQUAD! This laugh-out-loud chapter book series is perfect for Captain Underpants fans. With black-and-white illustrations throughout and a butt load of bathroom humor, young readers will be giggling from start to finish.
Underwear is disappearing all over Buttzville, and it’s up to the Fart Squad to sniff out the villain who’s brought the city to a chafing halt.
But the heroes better hold on to their tighty-whities. Doctor Lucius René Bottom is out to pants the city that yanked his underwear business out from beneath him—and take the Fart Squad down, too. Get ready to go commando like no kid has gone before, because the Fart Squad is filling with fuel, gaining gas, and getting ready to kick some Bottom with the foulest fart attack in the history of Buttzville!
Seamus Pilger
Seamus Pilger is an award-winning fartologist and a burrito enthusiast. He first became interested in superfartabilities while studying the alternate forms of propulsion for space travel. While intergalactic gastroenterological propulsion failed, Seamus has made many discoveries in the fermentation of foods in humans. Seamus is a graduate at FRT. He is a lifelong vegetarian and lives on a bean farm in Minnesota.
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Titles in the series (5)
Fart Squad #3: Unidentified Farting Objects Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsFart Squad #4: The Toilet Vortex Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Fart Squad #5: Underpantsed! Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Fart Squad #6: Blast from the Past Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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Book preview
Fart Squad #5 - Seamus Pilger
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Excerpt from Fart Squad #6: Blast from the Past
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About the Author and Illustrator
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
Juan-Carlos Finkelstein was already late for school when the harsh reality of an empty dresser drawer stopped him in his tracks. Mom!
he shrieked. Where’s my clean underwear?
I just bought a whole new bunch!
his mom called from downstairs. Stop going through underwear so quickly!
You have no idea, Juan-Carlos thought as he closed the empty drawer. That’s when he noticed a pungent fartlike odor wafting over his dresser. He was pretty sure he hadn’t farted all morning, and besides, he didn’t recognize the smell as his brand. But he had more important things to concentrate on at the moment anyway, namely getting to school on time. So he turned his attention to his laundry hamper in the hopes of scrounging up a decent pair of boxers. When you’re a superhero whose power comes from your superpowered farts, it tends to take a toll on your underwear collection.
A familiar voice from his clock radio made him pause. Can you believe those kids?
a man asked. "Running around in masks, farting on everyone . . . I’ve heard of loving the smell of your own farts, but these kids must think other people love the smell as well!"
Juan-Carlos’s father was a radio personality. He had his own morning show, Shockin’ Sheckey, which he recorded live in his home studio, right in the Finkelstein basement. People either loved him or hated him—or, loved to hate him. Juan-Carlos, of course, thought his dad was a comedic genius. Even if he was picking on the Fart Squad right now.
But then his dad continued, But seriously, folks, I’m just playing around. I actually think those kids are great! They really saved our butts—ha-ha!—with that whole itching thing, and again with that dinosaur, and who knows what else. They’re stinking up the town—in the best possible way!
Dad’s a fan! Juan-Carlos thought happily. Too bad I can’t tell him that his son is one of those kids he’s cheering for! Well, maybe someday.
In the meantime, there was school to worry about. And that required clean clothes.
Pulling open the hamper, Juan-Carlos found two pairs of jeans, three T-shirts, five mismatched socks, and what looked like one of his dad’s Grillmaster aprons. But no underwear.
Oh well. Mom must have already grabbed them, Juan-Carlos thought, peeling back the waistband of his pajama bottoms. I’ll have to wear these a second time.
Only, when he looked down, there was nothing between his pajama bottoms and himself.
I’m sure I was wearing them when I went to bed,
he muttered under his breath. Maybe they came off during my sleep somehow?
He wanted to ask his mother—maybe she’d taken them? But that didn’t make any sense. Besides, even if she had, it wasn’t like he could yell at her for doing his laundry. He’d just have to manage. She’d probably have a whole pile of clean underwear waiting when he got home.
By the time Juan-Carlos’s bus