Hot Dog and Bob: Adventure 1 (4 page)

I ran straight for poor, dead Hot Dog.

“Bob! Stop!” Clementine hissed from our hiding place. “What are you doing?”

To be honest, I didn’t even think about what I was doing until it was way too late. Just before I reached my dearly departed partner, Cheese Face dropped a sick blob of mozzarella right on top of me. I was completely stuck in a disgusting, cheesy prison, and there was no more superhero left to save me—or the rest of the planet.

It was official. Cheese Face was taking over the world, and it was
not
going to be pretty!

“Victory to the pizza people!” Cheese Face cheered.

“Victory to the pizza people!” her army repeated.

Now there was only one hope left. Clementine bravely crawled toward me under the desks. When she reached my sticky prison, she used
the only weapon against cheese she could find … her teeth.

As Clementine chomped and chewed away at my cheesy prison, I stood there with one stupid thought in my head: “I want my mommy!!!” Clementine was doing her best, but no way could anybody eat through THAT much cheese—not even Clementine.

As the seconds passed, mozzarella dripped down my face. I was running out of air. I was running out of time! I had to face facts. I wasn’t going to see my mom, my dad, my good old dog Chomper or my annoying little brother Bug ever again.

I was just about to give up when I saw the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen: Clementine’s pearly white teeth. She actually did it. I was free!

Now I wouldn’t blame you for having a hard time believing that a regular kid with regular teeth and a regular stomach could eat through enough cheese in a couple of minutes to free another kid who’s covered in the stuff. But that’s Clementine for you. I don’t know, maybe all her years of eating those gross “creative” lunches prepared her for that moment. But I do know this: That girl can eat!

As soon as I was free, I ran to Hot Dog. “You gave it your best shot, partner,” I whispered, scooping his limp little body off the floor. “And I’m going to make sure you get a real superhero’s funeral, because even though you didn’t actually save our class or our planet, you died trying.”

“Shhh,” Clementine said. She signaled me to follow her under the desks. I carefully put Hot Dog in my pocket and started crawling. We were almost at the door, just a few inches from freedom, when—

“Stop right there!” General Barfalot said. “You two don’t go anywhere unless
I
say so!”

“Get them!” Cheese Face commanded.

Barfalot and all the other pizza soldiers started marching toward us. We were cornered. But I had an idea.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a bunch of peanuts.

“Peanuts!” I said to Clementine. “I told you peanuts were cool!”

“Trust me,” Clementine hissed. “This
really
isn’t the time to be talking about peanuts!”

“Don’t be so sure,” I said, tossing a handful of nuts on the floor.

The soldiers started slipping and sliding all over the place. I threw out another handful.
KA-BLAM! General Barfalot and his entire army fell down like a bunch of bowling pins.

“Yes!” said Clementine. “Let’s make a break for it!”

We opened the door and ran. But we didn’t get far. Cheese Face’s stretchy arm reached clear down the hallway and wrapped around us like a boa constrictor. She pulled us back into the classroom, smiling her sickening, gooey smile. “Too bad your silly little super
hero is deader than a doorknob. Nobody can help you or your pitiful little planet now.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Hot Dog said, zooming out of my pocket.

“Cool! The flying weenie’s okay!” said Clementine.

“Hot Dog!” I said. “You’re alive!”

“General Barfalot!” yelled Cheese Face. “I order you to get rid of that annoying little pest once and for all!”

Barfalot saluted. “Immediately, Your Cheesiness!” He nodded at Pigburt and Slugburt.

The three mozzarella meanies started chasing Hot Dog around the room, clapping their hands together like they were trying to swat a mosquito. Only instead of smashing Hot Dog, they just kept smashing each other. It was totally awesome!

“You know, all this exercise is making me kinda hungry,” Hot Dog said. “Anyone care for a little snack?”

He reached inside his bun and pushed another button. In seconds, Barfalot and his brainless bodyguards were buried up to their necks in relish. Then Hot Dog turned his bun bottons toward Cheese Face.

Cheese Face just laughed. “Do what you want with those useless little soldiers. Soon I shall have scrillions more just like them!”

“In your dreams!” Hot Dog replied. He pushed even more bun buttons, and every hot-dog topping imaginable came shooting out. Clementine and I climbed up on top of the art-supply cabinet so we wouldn’t drown in the rising river of ketchup, sauerkraut, onions, mustard, mayonnaise and relish.

The pizza-slice kids were light enough to stay afloat in the sick sea of slime. But Cheese Face didn’t float. Her huge body sank down, down, down into the gross gook. We waited and watched for a long, long time, but she stayed sunk.

At last, the nightmare was over.