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About
the Author
Alan
Weir lives in the beautiful ‘Garden City’ of Toowoomba with his wife Helen
and two youngest children, Letitia and Chloe. Alan was a primary school
teacher for twenty years. As a hobby, Alan often spent his holidays writing
funny stories about the adventures and mishaps of his children. In
2002, he decided to become a children’s novelist and share his stories with
other children. ‘Smarty
Marty’ is his first novel. ‘In
my belief, making people laugh is one of life’s greatest gifts. So many people
nowadays take life so seriously. How good does it feel when you drop your guard
and have a good old fashioned belly laugh? I had a lot of belly laughs writing ‘Smarty
Marty.’ I hope a lot of people do the same reading it!’ CHAPTER
ONE
Baked Bean Bedlam
Apart
from the fact that Marty Thomas was the smartest kid in his whole class, he was
a normal twelve-year-old boy. Certainly he was small for his age and maybe a
little slow in developing, but well and truly inside the normal range as far as
twelve-year-old boys go. There was one thing though that made Marty different.
It wasn’t a particularly good thing. In fact, some saw it as a terrible thing.
You see Marty Thomas suffered from a peculiar and rare condition known as A.I.F....
Anxiety Induced Flatulence. Why,
just that morning Marty suffered an AIF attack. There
he was, with his family, at the breakfast table gulping down his favourite
breakfast food (baked beans on toast), when he noticed a large bunch of roses in
a vase in the centre of the table. Apparently his sixteen-year-old sister, Toni,
had received them the night before from a secret admirer. Marty leaned forward
and took a large whiff and commented on how pretty they were. This set his dad
off... big time!!! “Real
men don’t sniff flowers!” ranted his father. “Real
men don’t even like flowers! What the hell are you Marty? You’re not a pansy
are you?” Like
any twelve-year-old boy, Marty didn’t like having his masculinity questioned.
In fact he hated it. It happened all too often at school. His blood started to
curdle. Unfortunately, so did his AIF. Before he knew it, his stomach started
rumbling. His backside started vibrating wildly. Then sure enough... it
happened. He
tried to stop it. He really did. He held his breath. He tried to keep it all
together but as always happened with AIF... the pressure was just too great.
From his rear-end exploded a long thunder roll that lasted for a good ten
seconds. The smell that followed was horrendous. The baked beans had lived up to
their reputation. The scent was simply stifling. Marty
squeezed a look across the table at his father. If his dad was angry before, now
he was down right rabid. His face turned from red to a funny shade of purple.
His eyes appeared as though they were about to explode from their sockets. Marty
wasn’t sure if it was rage or his AIF that caused this, but one thing he did
know, his dad was going off his nut! What
a chaotic scene. Dad was screaming in between trying to hold his breath. Tears
were now trickling from the slits of his eyes. Mum
held her apron over her face and tried to calm down her husband. She seemed to
understand and sympathize with Marty’s condition. “Now
come on Ted. You know he can’t help it. It’s his AIF,” soothed his mother. “AIF!!...
AIF!! ... I’ll give him AIF fair up his you know what!” spewed his father
racing towards Marty. Suddenly
an ear-piercing scream shrilled through the toxic air. It was Toni. She stood
there like a statue. She just stood there screaming and pointing. Everyone
froze and followed her pointed arm. It pointed to the vase. Where just seconds
earlier stood a lovely fresh bunch of healthy roses, now stood what appeared to
be a droopy, daggy, display of dead weeds. After
what seemed an age, Toni finally managed to speak. “You... you murdered my
roses,” she whimpered looking daggers at Marty.
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