The halls of Jerome Horwitz Elementary were unusually quiet. Not the kind of quiet that meant learning was happening, but the kind that felt heavy—like laughter had been locked away and the air itself had forgotten how to giggle. George Beard and Harold Hutchins sat apart, slumped in their desks, their usual spark dimmed. The prank war had ended. The jokes had dried up. And the reason? Principal Benjamin Krupp.

After years of comic books, toilet paper blizzards, and elaborate whoopee cushion orchestras, Mr. Krupp had finally had enough. He’d separated the boys into different classrooms, different schedules, different worlds. The dynamic duo had been split. And it was devastating.

George stared at the ceiling tiles, counting the cracks. Harold doodled half-heartedly in the margins of his math worksheet. Neither spoke. Neither laughed. Neither plotted. It was as if the color had drained from their lives, leaving only beige worksheets and the distant sound of Mr. Krupp yelling at someone for chewing gum too loudly.

But George had an idea.

It was risky. It was wild. It was hypnotic.

After school, the boys snuck into Mr. Krupp’s office. The door creaked open with dramatic flair, revealing the principal hunched over his desk, muttering about budget cuts and hallway infractions. George clutched the hypno ring tightly in his palm, its plastic gem glinting in the afternoon light. Harold followed close behind, comic book tucked under his arm—the latest issue of Captain Underpants, freshly inked and full of heroic nonsense.

Mr. Krupp looked up, suspicious. “What are you two doing here?”

George didn’t answer. He simply raised the ring and began to swing it gently, side to side.

“You are getting sleepy…” he intoned, his voice low and steady.

Mr. Krupp blinked. Once. Twice. His eyes glazed over.

“You will obey our every command,” George said.

“I will obey,” Mr. Krupp repeated, his voice flat and distant.

Harold’s eyes widened. “It’s working…”

George grinned. “Cluck like a chicken!”

Mr. Krupp immediately leapt onto his desk, flapping his arms and squawking with wild abandon. Papers flew. A coffee mug shattered. The boys doubled over with laughter.

“Now act like a monkey!” George commanded.

Without hesitation, Mr. Krupp dropped to the floor, scratching his sides and hooting, his tie swinging like a tail. Harold could barely breathe from laughing so hard.

Then Harold’s eyes lit up. He reached into his backpack and pulled out the comic book. “George,” he whispered, “what if we made him… him?”

George’s grin widened. He held the comic book high, the cover gleaming with bold letters and heroic poses. Harold leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief and hope.

“Let’s do it,” Harold whispered.

George nodded. Together, they turned to Mr. Krupp, who was still scratching his armpits and making monkey noises on the floor.

George cleared his throat dramatically. “You are now…”

Harold joined in, their voices rising in unison:

“The amazing Captain Underpants!”

Snap!

The sound echoed through the room like a spell being cast. Mr. Krupp froze. His eyes blinked once, twice, and then—something shifted.

With a sudden burst of energy, he stood tall, puffed out his chest, and reached up to his head. In one swift motion, he ripped off his toupee, tossing it aside like a forgotten disguise. His eyes gleamed with heroic delusion. His mouth curled into a wide, toothy grin.

Then, without hesitation, he tore off his clothes, revealing nothing but a pair of tighty-whities and a red cape fashioned from the office curtains. He struck a pose, fists on hips, chin lifted to the ceiling.

And then came the cry.

“TRA-LA-LAAAA!”

It rang out like a trumpet blast, echoing through the school halls, bouncing off lockers and bulletin boards. George and Harold stared, mouths agape, barely able to believe what they’d just done.

Captain Underpants—the real one—stood before them, heroic, ridiculous, and completely unaware of reality.

Just then, the door creaked open.

{{user}} stepped into the room, their eyes scanning the scene with shock.