The Brotherhood of Rotten Babysitters (5 page)
“
Or
... was the house ripped from the ground to snap the cable?” Pete jabbed his other finger in my face.
“I think he’s on to something,” Spice Girl agreed.
The Sidekicks fell into line and Pete paced back and forth like a detective with a pumpkin head. “So, the next question we have to ask ourselves is: ‘Who could possibly benefit by cutting off your cable TV?’ ”
“The Cowardly Lion!” Spice Girl shouted.
“I’ll tell you who! Satellite TV, that’s who!” Pete spun and faced the Sidekicks. “With cable TV out of the way, satellite TV can just move in with their little dishes and satellites and suddenly, BLAMMO! They control the greatest power the world knows!”
“The White House?” Exact Change Kid gasped. “No! Television! This is a battle for Prime Time! For TGI Fridays, Must-See Thursdays, and Whatever-They-Call-It Tuesdays!” Pete shouted. “Yes... the bell may have saved us all these years, but now we’re the ones who must save the bell!” He headed for the front door.
“Pete! NO!” I shouted.
Pete flung open the front door. He teetered forward on his feet. I raced toward him at 36 miles per hour and tackled him away from the door. We rolled on the floor, and Pete sprang to his feet.
“Okay! Which one of you can fly again?” Pete asked.
A look of terror crossed the Sidekicks’ faces. “Maaa pam!” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy shouted, and everyone ran for cover like cockroaches scampering away from a bright light.
“What? You think I’d just throw one of you out the door to see if you can fly?” Pete huffed. “You! Lady! Can you fly?”
“That’s my
mom
!” I reminded Pete.
“And moms can’t fly?”
“Not mine.”
“Has she ever tried?”
“No.”
“No time better than the present!”
Pete took a step toward my mother. She whipped out a spatula and smacked Pete across his pumpkin head. “Don’t even think about it, squash-head.”
Pete grumbled and stomped toward the couch. Exact Change Kid scrambled out the other side on his hands and knees. “I can’t fly! I can’t fly!” he squealed repeatedly.
Pete fumed.
“I hate to ask, Pete, but why do you think everyone can fly but me?” I questioned.
“Because I already know you’re only good for one thing. And trust me when I say that the day I think complaining can save the world, you’ll be the first person I call.” Pete scanned the room. “Now where’s that kid with the big ears? We can just climb on his back and glide to Earth.”
“You’ve thrown Earlobe Lad off the Sidekick Super Clubhouse two times already! He couldn’t fly then and he still can’t fly now!” I explained.
“Fly, no.
Glide,
maybe.”
“He can’t fly or glide, Pete! He has super hearing!”
“Oh, and you just
expect
me to believe a kid with giant ears has super hearing? That boy’s a glider, I tell you!” Pete fell to the floor and searched under the couch. “A kid with ears that big can’t hide forever!”
As Pete scampered about on the floor, I finally realized something. “Hey,” I said as the thought hit me, “has
anyone
seen Earlobe Lad?”
The Chapter That Tells You What Happened to Earlobe Lad, Even Though I Didn’t Know It at the Time!
“Uh... hello?” Earlobe Lad whispered.
He waved his arms to the left, then to the right. He rocked slowly back and forth, but couldn’t grab the closest branch that hung just inches from his reach. He twisted and turned, then stopped, realizing that if he fell from that height, it would certainly hurt.
Maybe not his body, but his ears, anyway. There was sure to be a very loud
PLOP!
when he hit the ground.
No, Earlobe Lad wasn’t hanging precariously from my roof, soaring thousands of feet above the ground. Nor was he hanging precariously from a window, soaring thousands of feet above the ground. In fact, Earlobe Lad was neither soaring nor thousands of feet above the ground. He was, however, hanging precariously.
At least he had that going for him.
See, as we would later find out, when we were flying toward certain doom, Earlobe Lad was hanging by his Spandexed butt from a tree that stood tall and strong in the parking lot of what was once the home to Donutz Village.
Earlier that day, he had quietly strolled up to Donutz Village to get his daily Cinnabun. The shop was empty and had yet to open, so Earlobe Lad checked his Super Watch of Time-telling and Wristness once, then twice, but before he could check his watch a third time, something very interesting happened.
Completely unknown to Earlobe Lad, at that very moment, across the street from the park, on the other side of the Sidekick Super Clubhouse, deep inside the heart of the League of Big Justice, and despite my protests, Pumpkin Pete pressed the thirteenth button on the mysterious machine and blew up Donutz Village.
The blast sent Earlobe Lad sailing through the air like a Spandex-covered sidekick sailing through the air. Which made sense and all, since he was a Spandex-covered sidekick, and... uh...he was sailing through the air.
He landed in the tree, a thick, gnarled branch snagging on his Spandex and catching his fall. There he hung and watched as the other sidekicks showed up one-by-one. He had whispered for help as loudly as he could. When that didn’t work, he mumbled with all his might, but the only response he received was the response anyone would receive if they hung from the highest branch in a tree and whispered “Help me” to the people down the street.
On a normal day, he would’ve only had to wait until Exact Change Kid called roll, which was about once an hour. But on this day, Exact Change Kid’s usual roll call schedule was interrupted by my mom’s arrival in the family station wagon.
Half a day later, Earlobe Lad still hung there like a forgotten, Spandex-wearing piñata with giant ears and thoughts of doughnuts swirling through his head. At least he avoided Pumpkin Pete throwing him out the front door of my house, shouting, “Fly, Earboy! Fly!”
“Hey! Who are you supposed to be? Omelet Man?” a gruff-looking kid yelled up to Earlobe Lad. “You got egg powers or something?”
“No,” Earlobe Lad called back in a low, nearly inaudible voice. “I’m Earlobe Lad. I have super hearing.”
“Hey, Omelet Man! Where’s Waffle Boy?” A blond kid yelled up to Earlobe Lad.
“I told you, my name is Earlobe Lad!”
“Show us your egg powers!” a third boy laughed.
“I don’t
have
egg powers! I have super hearing.” “If you don’t have egg powers, then how come you’re covered in egg?”
Earlobe Lad thought for a second, then answered, “I’m not covered in —”
An egg splatted on Earlobe Lad’s face. The three boys laughed so hard they nearly cried.
“Go get ’em, Omelet Man!” the blond boy shouted, and threw another egg at Earlobe Lad.
The egg cracked across Earlobe Lad’s chest. Gooey yolk soaked into his Spandex. “Stop it! Don’t you know who I am? I’m a sidekick! I punch evil in the —”
“Egg powers, activate!” the gruff-looking boy yelled. A moment later, a barrage of eggs sailed toward Earlobe Lad and splattered across his body and the tree.
Earlobe Lad swung to the left. He swung to the right. He waved his arms and kicked his feet. He did everything he could to make sure that the three boys laughed even harder every time they hit him with an egg. “Could you at least pummel me with eggs a little more quietly?” Earlobe Lad moaned in a low voice.
“And
this
is for Donutz Village!” the blond boy yelled, and threw his final egg.
As he hung from the branches, egg dripping from his Spandex and face, Earlobe Lad could at least take consolation in one ridiculous fact: Although it was a result of Pumpkin Pete’s button-pushing, it cannot be denied that Earlobe Lad blew up before Boom Boy ever did.
“Say hello to Waffle Boy for us, Omelet Man!” the third boy chuckled as the threesome walked away.
“I already told you,” Earlobe Lad sighed, exhausted from the onslaught, egg dripping from his face and body, “my name is Earlobe Lad.”
Mikey’s Big Day
After seemingly endless hours of flying, the house finally landed with a booming
THUD!
“Can I wear the Ruby Slippers first?” Spice Girl asked as she peaked out from behind the couch.
“For the last time, we’re not in Oz!” I growled. Spice Girl ran to the window. “Well, we’re not in Kansas anymore, either.”
“Where
are
we?” Spelling Beatrice looked at me.
I joined Spice Girl at the window. “I don’t think the Cloud People are behind this.”
I looked out the window. We were in the middle of a jungle. Vines and trees obscured my view. The air was warm and humid, and I thought I heard the sound of the ocean. We were like castaways, lost on some faraway tropical island, but instead of a boat with a hole in it, we had a flying house with no cable.
“We’re doomed!” Pete lamented as he scanned TV station after TV station of static.
No, this wasn’t the handiwork of the Cloud People. How could it be? Cloud People live in the clouds. That’s why they call themselves “Cloud People.” Although, to this day, Spice Girl still thinks that they call themselves “Clown People.”
“They’re not very funny,” Spice Girl had said as the Cloud People flew overhead and blasted downtown in their hovercraft.
“Invasion hordes are
never
funny!” I replied, diving out of the way of falling debris.
“Except for invading hordes of clowns,” Spice Girl corrected.
But, as I looked out the window, I knew two things for sure. Clowns, in fact, are not funny, and the Cloud People were not behind the transport of my house.
“Maaph ma pam ma maam? Ma pam pam ma maah phamm,” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy said.
“What?” I said.
“Maaph ma pam ma maam? Ma pam pam ma maah phamm,” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy repeated.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“MAAPH MA PAM MA MAAM? MA PAM PAM MA MAAH PHAMM!” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy yelled.
“Is it me? Am I the only one who has no idea what the heck he’s saying?” I turned to Boyin-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy’s Giant Hamster Ball of Justice. “What are you saying? WHAT?!” I banged on the side of the Hamster Ball of Justice.
“This is no time for jokes,” Exact Change Kid cut in. “Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy’s right. We need to devise a plan and do some recon.”
“He did not say that! How the heck do you know he said that?” I blurted.
The Sidekicks stared blankly at me.
“He’s about as funny as the Clown People,” Spice Girl commented.
“Run! Run! We’re under attack!” Pumpkin Pete shouted as he ran into the room. “They’re monsters, I tell ya! Monsters!”
Everyone dove for cover. I quickly crawled over to Pete. “What is it, Pete? Who’s attacking us?”
“Is it the flying monkeys?” Spice Girl asked. Pete’s eye darted about in a panic. “Worse! A billion, jillion times worse! It’s worse than worse! It’s really worse!”
“What is it, Pete? What?!”
“Look!” Pete thrust out a container of canned pumpkin. “I found it in the kitchen pantry!” he gasped. “Soon, they’ll be putting all of us in cans! Like cattle!”
I looked at the can. GOOD EATS PUMPKIN PIE FILLING. IF IT’S GOOD EATS, IT EATS GOOD! the label read.
“Pete, my mom bought that at the store,” I informed him. “It was for Thanksgiving.”
“Gaaah! It’s worse than I feared!” Pete howled. “They’re making my people into THANKSGIVING PIES!!!!”
“ATTENTION LEAGUE OF BIG JUSTICE!” a voice boomed over a loudspeaker. “PREPARE TO MEET YOUR DOOM!”
“Aaaaah! They’re coming for my head!” Pete shouted. He grabbed his orange skull and raced to the closet. “They want my big, fat, orange pumpkin head for Thanksgiving pie!!!!”
“ATTENTION LEAGUE OF BIG JUSTICE!” the voice called out again. “PREPARE TO MEET YOUR DOOM!”
“We got it the first time!” Boom Boy yelled out the front door.
“Why do they think we want to meet Doom?” Spice Girl asked.
“They didn’t say ‘meet Doom,’ ” I clarified. “They said ‘meet your doom.’ ”
“That’s silly,” Spice Girl snorted. “I don’t even have a doom. And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t call him ‘doom.’ I’d probably call him ‘Mr. Skittles.’ ”
