Free Wheel of Misfortune by Kate McMullan Page A

hermit scratching his head. But on one thing these wise men all agree: Mold is our fortune-telling fungus friend.
    Wiglaf wondered who had written this drivel.
    White, fuzzy mold on your bread means you shall dance a jig at your cousin’s wedding. Green mold warns you to stay away from beehives. Purple mold? Beware a bearded stranger pointing a great big knife at you and screaming, “Give me all your money!” If the mold on your bread oozes black slime, it’s time to get yourself measured for a shroud.
    Wiglaf’s stomach lurched. Why, he had a blob of dark goo on his bread that very morning! This was more than Wiglaf cared to know about mold. Or the future. He decided to skip to the questions.
    1. What is mold?
    a) A paste we use to clean our teeth
    b) A fungus
    c) Yucky
    d) A tasty topping for toast
    Wiglaf circled c. He read the next question.
    2. Where is mold likely to be found?
    a) In the kitchen
    b) On peasants
    c) On your bread
    d) Up people’s noses
    Wiglaf gagged. He went on to the next question.
    3. Does mold have any practical uses?
    a) Yes, as a household cleaner
    b) No, not a single one
    c) Yes, as a ladies’ perfume or aftershave
    d) We don’t know. What do you think?
    Wiglaf sighed. He wished he were back scrubbing boar grease out of the cauldron.
    4. What can we do to keep mold from forming?
    a) Keep it from forming? Why would we want to do that?
    b) Jump up and down on one foot while shouting, “Die, fungus!”
    c) Never store your bread in a swamp.
    d) Sacrifice a live chicken.
    “Stop!” Mordred cried.
    “But, sir!” Erica said. “I am not finished!”
    Mordred snatched up the answer sheets. “We are short on time here.” He took out The Headmaster’s Answer Guide to the S.A.T—M.E. He began checking their tests.
    At last Mordred slammed the answer book shut. He eyed Wiglaf. “Nice work, lad. You only missed one.”
    Wiglaf smiled. He was not going to point out that he had answered only one question.
    “You three will do!” Mordred exclaimed.
    “Do for what, sir?” asked Wiglaf.
    “For the team,” Mordred replied. “You shall represent DSA in the All-Schools Brain-Power Tournament!”
    “We shall make DSA proud, sir!” Erica said.
    “That’s the spirit, Eric!” said Mordred. “This is the first year DSA has been invited to the tournament. We will be competing against Dragon Stabbers’ Prep, Knights R Us, and Knights Noble Conservatory. The winning school always gets hundreds of new boys applying.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If you win, I could hike up the tuition. Maybe as high as nine or ten pennies a year.”
    “Is there a prize for the winning team, Uncle?” asked Angus.
    “You ninny!” Mordred exclaimed. “Would I have gotten you out of Scrubbing Class if there were no prize? The prize,” he added, as a golden glow lit his violet eyes, “is a huge gold trophy filled with one gold coin for every point scored by the winning team.”
    “Oh, boy!” cried Angus.
    “The gold is for me,” Mordred snapped. “Er... I mean, for dear old Dragon Slayers’ Academy.” Mordred turned toward the doorway. “Bragwort!” he bellowed. “Come here and meet your teammates!”

Chapter 2
    “ B ragwort?” Wiglaf turned to Erica. ”Is not Bragwort the student who always reminds Sir Mort when he forgets to give us a test?”
    Erica nodded. “That’s him.”
    “I always get an A + on all Sir Mort’s tests,” a boy said from the doorway of Mordred’s office.
    Wiglaf saw that it was Bragwort, all right. He was tall, with curly yellow hair. His turned-up nose reminded Wiglaf of his pet pig’s snout.
    “I do so well that Sir Mort lets me grade his test papers,” Bragwort went on.
    “No wonder you get an A + ,” Angus murmured.
    “Bragwort did not miss a single question on his S.A.T.—M.E.,” Mordred said.
    “Naturally,” Bragwort said. “I never do.”
    “So he shall be the team captain,” Mordred added.
    “No fair,” Erica muttered.
    Mordred