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inspector had just so happened to pass by Lot 1346B, and there he saw tall
ragweed, goldenrod, and dandelions. The owners were informed that they had
forty-eight hours to cut down these noxious weeds or be subject to heavy
fines.
"We can't afford heavy fines," Sam said positively. "We can't even afford
light fines."
"There are weeds all over town," protested Phil. "Why are they picking on
ours?"
"Interflux isn't interested in all over town," Simon said grimly. "They just
want to hassle us." "If this is the biggest hassle they can come up with,"
said Phil, "then they're not going to last too long in the ring with Antiflux.
Why, we could cut those weeds in "
"Three weeks," finished Sam. "And we've got forty-eight hours. Then heavy
fines." Simon slapped his knee. "The Student Council has only twenty-six bucks
left, and Wendy would cut her own throat before giving us one cent of it.
Geez, after all we've been through, I refuse to take the fall over something
as stupid as a weed rap!" "Guys, I don't know what you're getting so upset
about," said Phil. "Antiflux is big time. We just call in our troops, and
those weeds are history." Sam was skeptical.
"Oh, sure. Fifteen hundred kids who hide all weekend just to get out of doing
their own yard work are going to drop everything and volunteer to rid a whole
land lot of weeds."
'What's your problem, Sam? Are you afraid to get a little dirt under the
fingernails and ruin your good looks for the Red Baroness Friday night?"
I'll work just as hard as anyone else," Sam said defensively,
"and I'll bet you the wreck's next tank of gas that, fifteen minutes into this
operation, I'm working and you're figuring out ways to slack off."
Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah!"
Simon thought it over. Who in his right mind would volunteer to break his back
cutting weeds? But then he had a vision of the fence-building. And all those
students who had greeted him in the hall, introduced him to friends, and
congratulated him on Antiflux. And Johnny Zull's words, often repeated: "Hey
man, if there's ever anything I can do. ..." Still, weed-cutting was never
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going to rank up high on anybody's list of favorite pastimes. So it would
probably be a good idea to play up the spirit of Antiflux and de-emphasize the
actual operation. "Okay," he said to Phil and Sam, who were still bickering.
"I've got an idea."
* * *
ANTIFLUX
PROGRAM BOARD EMERGENCY MEETING
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 24TH, IN THE CAFETERIA AT 3:30
NEW ANTIFLUX PROGRAM
LIMITED NUMBER OF VOLUNTEERS ACCEPTED
"When people hear 'limited volunteers,' they'll break their necks to get in,"
said Phil by way of self-congratulation.
"Right," Sam agreed. "And when they hear 'weed-cutting,' they'll break our
necks to get out."
"Keep it quiet until the meeting," said Simon. "I intend to hit them with it
in such a way that they won't mind."
There was one problem, however, and that was equipment. A quick inventory of
the school's gardening resources turned up three big scythes, and fifteen
clippers and trimmers of varying sizes that would not need electrical power.
That was not nearly enough to equip the "limited" number of volunteers that
Simon was hoping for. Between Simon, Phil, and Sam, they could collect only
another nine or ten pieces, so it was unanimously decided to ask a few closer
friends to bring tools from home. The only problem with this was that, as they
canvassed, Simon was finding with increasing alarm that weedcutting was even
less popular than the Program Board had anticipated.
"Man," said Johnny Zull in true pain, "I'll help you out with this because
you're my lab partner and all that, but let me tell you, it's going to be just
you and me out there because, no offense, weed-cutting is the ultimate bad
news."
Bill Mcintosh didn't react much better. "There's only one thing I hate more
than cutting weeds, and that's short people who try to get me to cut weeds."
"We could really use you out there," Phil wheedled.
"Oh, all right! But only if it's made absolutely clear that this isn't my idea
of a good time. If it starts to get around that I like cutting weeds, I'm
finished."
Of the people in Querada's painting class, Sam selected Peter Ashley to
recruit. Peter had a reputation for being game for anything, but even he
balked when he heard the nature of the job at hand. "This is your big new
program? Cutting weeds?" He shook his head. "I don't get it."
"I happen to know that there's going to be a very successful turnout
tomorrow," said Sam. "For cutting weeds?"
"We'll see you there. Don't forget to bring all the cutters you can get
together."
In fact, the only people who didn't find the idea completely repulsive were
Dino and Dina. The quarter-ton couple had no great love for gardening, but
they were interested in supporting Antiflux. And nothing could be that bad if
they could do it together. Also, Dino had a neighbor who was a professional
gardener, so there was a good chance that he would be able to bring along a
lot of equipment.
On Wednesday afternoon, the cafeteria was jam-packed with students waiting to
hear the next in-stallment of the Antiflux game plan. Phil was over-joyed with
the turnout, and was fighting with Sam over headcount estimates. But Simon was
nervous. All through dinner last night, his father had grinned maliciously at
him, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that Interflux had pulled the strings
that had sent a town weed inspector to Lot 1346B. Simon had looked back
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haughtily, although not a word was spoken by either of them for fear of
violating Mrs. Irving's household business ban. Simon's feelings now were that
this just had to work, even if for no other reason than to wipe that grin off
Cyril Irving's face. He glanced anxiously at the closed door to the school
kitchen, behind which he knew Bill Mcintosh stood guard over a hundred and
fifty-odd pieces of cutting equipment. Then he gazed out over the crowd,
easily six hundred strong. Bleakly, he realized that in a few short minutes,
he would have to hit up this mob to engage in what might well be the
least-loved activity of teenage life. He would have to get that equipment into
those hands and then coax the whole lot out to 1346B. Impossible? Probably,
but maybe Phil was right, and someone up there in the destiny department
really did have a soft spot for Antiflux.
At the back of the assembly, Wendy stood beside Barbara, who was gazing up at
the platform in unconcealed adoration.
Wendy smiled. "Keep looking, Barbara, because your boy isn't going to be so
pretty anymore when this afternoon is over."
"What are you talking about?"
"I know the reason for this big meeting. Remember, all the Antiflux letters
come to me first. So I happen to know that the sleazebag, your Sam, and that
jackass Phil Baldwin have dragged everybody in here thinking they're going to
be consulted on something important. And you know what's really going to
happen? Those three idiots are going to try and get the whole school out to
their dumb land to cut down the weeds. The town says they have to." Barbara
turned pale.
"No telling how mad the kids'll get," Wendy said gleefully. "They might even
storm the platform and slaughter the Program Board. Oh, look. The sleazebag is
standing up. I don't want to miss a word of this."
Simon began by listing the sins of Interflux, past and present and, as always,
it was a subject he
could really warm to. In no time at all, he had the crowd eating out of his
hand, but he knew he was
a long way from home free.
"But now we have a new enemy! A political enemy! The Town of Greenbush is
Interflux's ally against us! The town runs the Land Office, and the Land
Office is in a position to push us around! They're making it difficult for us
to hang on to our lawful land, which is holding the Interflux expansion at
bay! Are we going to stand for this?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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