Funny Boy Versus the Bubble-Brained Barbers from the Big Bang (10 page)

“Hey, I didn’t say you could leave the room!” Mrs. Wonderland hollered at me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To save the world!”

AND NOW, FUNNY BOY, IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO DIE!

The president had put planes, helicopters, and limousines at my disposal so I could get to the barbers at a moment’s notice. Fortunately, I wouldn’t have to go far. I called the White House and the President told me that the barbers were now in Toronto, Canada.

“They’ve already removed most of the world’s hair,” the President said mournfully. “North and South America are all that is left.”

“They’re going to pay for this!” I said. “Get it? To pay? Toupee?”

“You’ll need to be a lot funnier than that, Funny Boy,” the President replied. “You’re our last hope.”

The seriousness of my mission had hit home with me. I was starting to feel funny again. Jokes were welling up inside my brain, ready to burst out and reduce even the most serious villain into a convulsion of giggles.

I called Bob Foster at work and he rushed home. We put Punch in her little cage and took a government jet to Toronto. From there, it was minutes by limousine to the Rogers Centre, where the Toronto Blue Jays baseball team plays. It was also where Bo, Barry, and Burly Barber had set up their North American headquarters.

Bob Foster, Punch, and I marched inside the Rogers Centre. It was an enormous stadium. But it wasn’t the field that caught our attention. It was the huge barber pole at second base that reached almost to the roof. I had been to the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., but I had never seen a rocket so big.

This was the spaceship I had seen through the telescope. It was probably filled with hair and ready for launch, Bob Foster whispered to me. Stolen hair. Once they shipped the hair back to Depilatory, they would be heroes to their people.

I spotted Bo, Barry, and Burly at the bottom of the rocket, tinkering with switches and dials.

“Halt, hair thieves!” I shouted.

“Well, if it isn’t Funny Boy and Tan Man!” Barry Barber said, almost gleefully. “We meet again. Your little dog looks kind of cute without its fur coat.”

“Your hair-robbing days are over!” Punch shouted.

“Me torture them, okay, boss?” Bo Barber asked.

“Not yet,” Barry Barber said. “First, let them watch as we remove the hair of every Canadian citizen. And when we’re done, the United States will have its turn. Then we will flush enough hair down the drains of North America to blow this planet to smithereens!”

“Hahahaha!” the three barbers guffawed.

“I’ll give you one last chance,” I said, trying to remain calm. “Surrender now and leave Earth alone. Go quietly and you won’t be punished so severely for your crimes.”

“Why should we?” Barry Barber asked, defiantly.

“If you don’t, I will tell a joke that is so funny that you will fall to the ground, helpless with laughter. You will be totally unable to perform your evil deeds. You’ll be lucky you don’t cough up your appendix or some other internal organ.”

“Ha!” snorted Burly Barber. “Me hear that last time. Me dare you. Make Burly laugh.”

“Who’s dumb and flies a plane?” I asked.

“Me not know.”

“Amelia Airhead.”

The three barbers looked at each other.

“That’s
it?
” Barry Barber asked. “
That’s
the joke that was going to make us fall over dead?”

“That was just his warm-up joke,” Punch explained. “Now he’s going to tell you the real joke. Right, Funny Boy?”

“Uh, right.”

I felt sweat beading up on my forehead. The Amelia Airhead joke was the best one I had. I would have to come up with a good one right here or it would be good-bye Earth.

“Here comes the real joke,” I continued. “This centipede walks into a shoe store—”

“Enough!” bellowed Barry Barber. “Seize them!”

Bo and Burly grabbed Bob Foster, Punch, and me. They strapped us into the three barber chairs.

“You’ll never get away with this!” Bob Foster shouted. “
NATO
forces will track you down and bring you to justice!”

“Me not
think
so,” Bo Barber said, smiling his evil smile.

“After we clog all your drains with hair,” Barry Barber explained, “we will dump tons of shampoo into your oceans. Your waters will be filled with foamy white lather, making it impossible for ships to find us. Then we will surround Earth with a cloud of talcum powder, making it impossible for airplanes to find us. Escape will be simple. Hahahaha!”

“You’re madmen!” Punch yelled.

“Thank you!” Burly Barber grunted.

I tried to free my hands from the straps that were holding me in the barber chair, but it was impossible.

“Do something!” I yelled to Punch.

“Like what?”

“Growl! Bare your teeth or something!”

“Baring teeth is so ... animalistic!”

“You’re an animal!” I screamed. Ever since Punch discovered she could talk, she refused to lower herself to things she considered “doglike.”

“Why don’t
you
do something?” Punch said. “Tell a joke. You’re Funny Boy!”

I tried to think of a joke, any joke. Nothing came to mind.

“I ... I can’t think of one!” I replied.

“What do you mean?” Punch yelled. “You know
hundreds
of jokes. Night and day you’re always telling your stupid jokes. And now, now when we really need it, you can’t think of a single joke?”

“My mind is a blank!” I moaned.

Bob Foster tried to bail us out. “Be sensible,” he implored the barbers. “On Earth, you guys are superstars. You’ve got the number one show on TV. You could be bigger than the Beatles. Why destroy Earth and go back to your planet, where you guys have no jobs, no lives?”

“Silence!” Barry Barber boomed. “We must warm up the hair-removal generator.”

“Wait!” I shouted desperately. “Aren’t you going to give us a last request? Even a condemned man gets one last request.”

“What is your last request?” Barry said grudgingly.

“I want to make a phone call.”

“All right,” Barry said, handing me a cell phone. “But don’t try any funn
y stuff.”

Fumbling with the buttons, I punched in the number for Dial-a-Joke. In seconds, I had what I needed.

“Why do seagulls fly over the sea?” I shouted at the barbers.

“Me not know.”

“If they flew over the bay, they’d be bagels.”

Barry Barber ripped the phone from my hand. “I said no funny stuff! You’re beginning to get on my nerves.”

“Me say shoot him,” Burly Barber suggested.

“No,” Barry Barber replied. “I have a better idea.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a battery-operated hair clipper, the kind barbers use to trim sideburns. He turned it on, and it made a loud buzzing noise.

“I’m going to remove Funny Boy’s hair
personally
!”

“No,” I shrieked. “Stop! Stop!”

It was no use. He was too strong. He took the clipper and ran it right down the middle of my scalp. Hair went flying everywhere. Down my back. In my eyes. It was horrible.

When he was done, I ran my fingers across the top of my head. There was nothing there but skin. He had cut a straight strip right across the middle, like a farmer who plowed a row of a field. I had a negative Mohawk.

“You’re not barbers!” I screamed. “You’re ... barbarians!”

“Yes, we are,” agreed Barry. “And now it is time for you to die!”

THE BIG SURPRISE ENDING THAT WILL COMPLETELY SHOCK YOU, UNLESS YOU’VE ALREADY GUESSED IT

So like I was saying, Bob Foster, Punch, and I were strapped to barber chairs in the middle of the Toronto Rogers Centre. The loony barbers had just cut a swath of my hair out right down the middle of my head. Barry Barber had this evil grin on his face, and I had the feeling he was going to do some other terrible thing to me.

“Do you still think we’re fictional characters?” I asked Punch.

“I’m not so sure anymore,” Punch replied. “But your fictional hair is all over the floor.”

“Enough chitchat, Funny Boy!” Barry Barber said. “Now it is time for you to die!”

“You’re going to kill me?”

“Not D-I-E, you idiot!” Barry said. “Dye! D-Y-E. We’re going to dye your hair ... purple!”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because purple is my favorite color.”