by Jon Scieszka
No one in room 501-B other than Michael K. seemed to notice they were still in school . . . in the middle of the night.
“I’M CUCKOO FOR COCOA PUFFS,” said TJ, finishing off a box of Count Chocula and shooting down two Space Invaders.
“IT’S THE REAL THING,” said Bob, chomping a fistful of Cap’n Crunch’s Crunch Berries and choosing the hairstyle for his pony in My Little Pony: Pinkie Pie’s Party Parade.
“FINGER LICKIN’ GOOD,” said Jennifer, eating the last of her twelve-pack of Crayola colored pencils and jumping her WWF SmackDown! Just Bring It video game wrestler off the top of a ladder.
Big Joey and his pals sat on the floor in the corner, surrounded by half-empty bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, Lay’s Barbecue chips, Sea Salt and Vinegar, Sour Cream and Onion, Honey Dijon, Lime and Chili, Pepper Bacon, Jalapeño, Four Cheese, Dill Pickle, New York Cheddar, Toasted, Baked, Chile Picante, Nacho, and Zesty Ranch Chips, and Original, Cheddar Cheese, and Honey Mustard Pringles. . . .
They seemed to be having a discussion.
“NOBODY CAN EAT JUST ONE.”
“HAVE IT YOUR WAY.”
“THE BEST PART OF WAKING UP . . . IS FOLGERS IN YOUR CUP.”
Major Fluffy dug tunnels in a nest of wrappers from Almond Joy, Twix, Goo Goo Clusters, Milky Way, Snickers, Baby Ruth, Nestlé Crunch, Reese’s Pieces, Peanut, Pretzel, and plain M&M’S, Mr. Goodbar, Kit Kat, Butterfinger, York Peppermint Pattie, Mallo Cup, Tootsie Roll, Mounds, Heath bar, 5th Avenue, Bit-O-Honey, Oh Henry!, PayDay, 100 Grand, 3 Musketeers, and NutRageous candy bars.
“More Red Hots! More Hot Tamales!” shouted Mrs. Halley.
“This is just weird,” said Michael K., mostly to himself because no one was listening.
“BEEEEEEEEEEEEP,” went the speaker over the classroom door. “Attention. Attention. Very good work on your graduation assignments. Michael K., please report to the principal’s office.”
“Whaaa?” said Michael K.
“Immediately,” said the buzzing speaker.
“Move, soldier!” barked Mrs. Halley, mowing down a row of attackers. “And get me some more Hot Tamales and Red Hots while you are down there!”
“Yes, Mrs. Halley,” Michael K. shouted back.
Michael K. jumped up from his seat and ran down to the office without thinking. The squeak of his sneakers on the shiny floors echoed in the empty hallways.
Michael K. ran down the stairs. He ran to the main office. He looked at the school clock. He stopped. Then he started thinking.
What was he doing in school at three in the morning?
Why was room 501-B so crazy about wanting to do these weird graduation assignments?
Something was not right.
Michael K. looked out the front school doors to the deserted street outside.
Should he just walk out? Go get help?
Or should he report to the principal’s office? In the middle of the night?
The big black hand of the school clock ticked over to 3:01.
Michael K. decided this was just too strange. He turned and headed for the front doors. And that’s when he heard a familiar humming noise coming from behind the door with the sign
Michael K. forgot about going to get help.
Michael K. forgot about Mrs. Halley’s Hot Tamales and Red Hots.
Michael K decided he was going to get some answers for himself.
Michael K. grabbed the doorknob on the principal’s office door. He turned the knob and swung open the door.
The small, bald-headed clown rolled over in the circus sawdust.
“What are you clowns doing? You are ruining the show!”
Dad K. had a sudden sinking feeling.
“Uh-oh. This is not the chief.”
* * *
The small, bald-headed man at the kitchen table laughed.
“Why are you dressed for Halloween?”
Fisherman Foxtrot had a sudden sinking feeling.
“Uh-oh. This is not the chief.”
* * *
The small, bald-headed man stood next to the fire.
“Qual é o seu problema?”
Umber had a sudden sinking feeling.
“Uh-oh. This is definitely not the chief.”
The small, bald-headed man sitting at the principal’s desk spread open his arms.
“Michael K.! We meet at last.”
Michael K. had a sudden sinking feeling.
“Uh-oh. Chief?”
“The one and only,” said the chief.
“But . . . but . . . but what are you doing here? You are supposed to be in Alaska! Or Florida! Or the Amazon! And what did you do with our new principal?”
The chief chewed on the end of a red pencil. “Oh, I am your new principal.”
“Oh, no,” said Michael K.
“Oh, yes,” said the chief. “And I’m so glad to see you. Because you have something I need.”
“I don’t have anything you need,” said Michael K. “You have our Spaceheadz Brainwave. You stole it. And we want it back.”
“Of course you do,” said the chief, eating the rest of the red pencil. “That’s why I’ve been softening you up . . . I mean, that’s why I invited you down to my office.”
Michael K. looked around the principal’s office. It didn’t look like a principal’s office anymore. It looked more like the laboratory of a mad scientist.
Half of it was filled with a thing that looked like a giant ray gun, labeled
A sparking blue snow globe sat on the principal’s desk.
And where the principal’s fish tank used to be, a single lunchroom chair sat on top of a large, humming black egg-shaped thing.
“Hey, that’s the noise I recognized. That’s our IWANT Pulsar!”
The chief walked around the desk to get closer to Michael K. “Yes, yes, yes. And you can have that back too.” The chief put a goofy aluminum foil hat on his head and turned a dial on the IWANT Pulsar. The black egg hummed louder. “Right after you sit down in the chair and we take care of the last bit of Brainwave business.”
Michael K. looked at the chair on top of the IWANT Pulsar. “I don’t think I want to,” said Michael K.
The chief turned the dial on the IWANT Pulsar up to eleven.
“Now you want to.”
Michael K. looked around. “No, I don’t,” said Michael K.
The chief turned the dial to twelve. The black egg hummed louder and wobbled.
“Now you definitely want to.”
“No, I definitely don’t.”
The chief’s face flushed a bit red. He squeezed the aluminum foil hat on his head tight with both hands. Then he cranked the IWANT Pulsar up to twenty.
The black egg whined like a jet engine.
“Now you want to. Sit down and GIVE ME YOUR BRAIN WAVE!”
“Hmmmm,” said Michael K. “Nope. Still don’t want to.”
The chief freaked out. He pounded the desk with both fists. He smacked his forehead with both hands.
“This is terrible!” said the chief. “Your puny brain resists the WantWaves. And that is also why your one brain wave didn’t load. You don’t believe the wanting/needing/having will make you faster/stronger/better.”
The school clock on the wall behind him stopped, then spun backward fast, faster and faster until the hands flew right off the clock and stuck into the wall like two daggers.
“Well, of course,” said Michael K. “That’s just advertising. I’ve known that since I was a kid. Just because you eat SuperCrunchies doesn’t mean you can really do anything.”
“Ohhhhhhhhhh,” said the chief, suddenly realizing he could not get Michael K.’s brain wave unless Michael K. wanted to give it up.
“Ahhhhhhh,” said Michael K., suddenly realizing the chief could not do anything without his plus one brain wave.
“Okay,” said the chief. “We could have done this the easy way. But now we are going to do it the hard way.”
The chief picked up what looked like an ord
inary stapler and aimed it directly between Michael K.’s eyes.
Michael K. had a bad feeling that this was not an ordinary stapler. And he was right.
The chief fired his stapler.
The last thing Michael K. saw before he went u-n-c-o-n-s-c-i-o-u-s was a blue-white bolt of pure energy coming right at him.
Mom K. pushed a pile of elephant plop onto Dad K.’s shovel. Dad K. dropped the stinky mess into the trash can Baby K. wheeled over.
Dad K. muttered, “What a pile of—”
“Shoot!” interrupted Mom K., tugging at the elephant chain attached to her ankle. “We have to get these off and track down the real chief.”
Dad K. tugged at his own ankle chain and scooped another pile into the trash. “Try telling that to the head clown again. He said we will have to work a whole week to earn him back the money he lost on the show we ruined.”
“Goo glah goo goo,” suggested Baby K., slipping out of her chain.
“Breeee beeee beee,” agreed a big bull elephant. And then he dropped another hot, wet, steaming pile of—
“Shoot!” said Mom K.
“We have to get out of here,” said Dad K.
Again,” said the small, bald man at the kitchen table.
“Do we have to?” said pirate Echo, tied to one of the kitchen chairs, with some very fancy fishing knots in the thick white rope.
“Yes,” said the man. “I don’t often get a crew to help me sing my old sea chanteys. So nice of you to drop in.”
And then the crusty old man started to sing, with fisherman Foxtrot, sailor Delta, and pirate Echo answering.
“As I was a-walking down Paradise Street.”
“Way, hey, blow the man down.”
“A pretty young damsel I happened to meet.”
“Give me some time to blow the man down.”
“Oh, man,” said fisherman Foxtrot. “There must be a hundred verses to this song.”
“Two hundred,” groaned sailor Delta.
“We have got to get out of here and get back on the trail of the real chief,” said pirate Echo.
“So I tailed her my flipper and took her in tow.”
“Way, hey, blow the man down.”
“And yardarm to yardarm away we did go.”
“Give me some time to blow the man down.”
“We really have to get out of here,” said Agent Foxtrot.
Umber and Hot Magenta stood back-to-back, tied to a tree in the middle of the Amazon jungle.
Red and green parrots screeched in the branches overhead.
It started to rain.
Umber wiggled one hand back and forth against the wet rope.
“Ouch,” said Hot Magenta.
“Sorry,” said Umber. “But I think I’ve almost got it.” Umber wiggled. Umber waggled. Umber twisted one hand free.
“Bzzzzrt,” buzzed Umber’s pocket. “Bzzzzrt.”
Umber used his free hand to pull out his Picklephone®.
“Oh, no,” said Umber. “Huge AEW spike at D-7. That’s back at P.S. 858. Maybe it’s the chief.”
“Not possible,” said Hot Magenta. “Our data says the chief is here.”
“But that was not the chief who tied us up.” Umber untied his other hand, then untied Hot Magenta. He looked at the AEW warning on his Picklephone® again. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Probably just a glitch,” answered Hot Magenta, brushing dirt off her khaki pants. “We cleared that whole area D-7.”
The rain splattered on the leaves above.
Umber thought.
Umber came up with a plan.
“We’ve been tricked,” said Umber. “Something big is happening back at P.S. 858. And we really, really have to get out of here.”
Back in room 501-B no one was missing Michael K. because everyone was completely blasted by the cranked-up WantWaves.
And everyone was surrounded by piles of products that had been bought and instantly delivered all day and all night by AAA Speedy Express vans.
Jennifer arranged her infomercial collection like it was a pile of treasure. She spoke to each item as she touched it:
“Belly Burner! THE AMAZING WEIGHT-LOSS BELT.
“Power Trainer Pro! FITS MOST DOORWAYS IN SECONDS.
“AB Rocket! BLAST YOUR ABS LIKE NEVER BEFORE.
“Shake Weight! THIS IS NOT A WORKOUT, IT’S A REVOLUTION.
“Shipping and handling extra.”
Bob rolled around in his pile and babbled:
“Pajama Jeans! THE LOOK OF JEANS WITH THE COMFORT OF PAJAMAS.
“Slanket! THE ORIGINAL BLANKET WITH SLEEVES.
“Snuggie! AFFORDABLE FOR ANY BUDGET.
“BeDazzler! MAKE DULL INTO DAZZLING.
“Act now. Special offer. Three easy payments.”
TJ stacked a pyramid of Coke, Pepsi, Diet Coke, Mountain Dew, Diet Pepsi, Dr Pepper, Sprite, Fanta, Diet Mountain Dew, Cherry Coke, Dad’s root beer, Canada Dry ginger ale, Cherry Coke Zero, Fresca, Jolt cola, Coke Zero, Mello Yello, RC cola, Slice, Sierra Mist, caffeine-free Coke, Shasta cola, Squirt, and 7UP cans.
TJ spoke to his pyramid. “THE PAUSE THAT REFRESHES. THE REAL THING. JUST FOR THE TASTE OF IT. MAXIMUM TASTE, ZERO CALORIES. DO THE DEW. IT’S THAT REFRESHING. OBEY YOUR THIRST. BE YOU.”
Venus chanted what sounded like a poem in an invented language:
“Lunesta, Crestor, Flomax, Lipitor.
Nasonex, Allegra, Visine . . .
LEAVE THE REST TO US.
NOW YOU’RE GETTING IT.
RELIEVES CONGESTION FOR HOURS.
AND GETS THE RED OUT.”
Major Fluffy burrowed frantic tunnels in his candy wrapper mountain.
“EEEEK EEE EEEE!
“WEEEK EEE EEE EEE.
“SQUEEE EEEK WEEEEK.”
Major Fluffy laughed. He jumped into his spinning hamster wheel. He ran like a maniac, then spun around inside the wheel once, twice, three times . . . and flew out, landing in his shredded candy wrappers with a BOOM!
“Turbo hamster!” cheered TJ.
Major Fluffy jumped in the wheel, spun around, and flipped out again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
PWWWWWOW!
PZZZZINNNGG!
BAZOOOOOAAAANG!
Mrs. Halley mowed down all attackers.
“More ammo!” shouted Mrs. Halley. “Where are my Hot Tamales and Red Hots?! Where is Michael K.?!”
Michael K. was sitting in the principal’s office, tied to a lunchroom chair with a plastic rainbow-colored gym class jump rope.
Michael K. struggled to escape.
“You can’t make me give you my brain wave,” said Michael K.
“Oh, no?” said the chief. “We’ll see about that.”
“What are you going to do? Drill into my skull? Electro-zap my nerve cells? Suck my brains out of my ears?”
“Eeeeewww,” said the chief. “That is disgusting.”
The chief munched on a fresh red pencil like it was a Twizzler. “No, I have something much more effective.”
“I’ll never give it up,” said Michael K. “Kids joined Spaceheadz to save the world. You are a bad guy. And I am not going to give you the power to destroy everything.”
The chief dug into his crate. He pulled out a brightly colored jumble of plush fish and starfish and crabs, all hanging from the arms of a purple plastic octopus. He hung the baby mobile in front of Michael K.
“Are you kidding me?” said Michael K.
The chief turned on the motorized mobile. The creepy smiling fish and starfish and crabs started slowly spinning around. A mindless, happy song started playing.
“Oh, I am not kidding you,” said the chief. The chief picked up the sparking blue snow globe off his principal’s desk. “Your brain may be ad resistant and IWANT resistant. But a couple hours of this . . . and you will be begging me to take your brain wave.
The Ocean Wonders animals spun in their slow circle.
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The Ocean Wonders song started over again.
This was both creepy and annoying.
Michael K. started to feel just a little bit worried.
Michael K. strained against the jump rope. “My team will save me.”
The chief laughed. “Your team is a mess! The fifth graders are all want-heads. Your SPHDZ are even more want-crazy and useless. And the rest of your team is scattered around the globe. No one is coming to save you.”
The purple octopus twirled.
The Ocean Wonders song started again.
Michael K. tried to tip his little chair over. But he couldn’t even do that. He hoped the chief was wrong. But he had a terrible feeling he was right.
The purple octopus twirled.
The Ocean Wonders song started again.
Michael K. felt himself going just a little crazy.
He hoped the chief wasn’t right about his team.
He hoped someone was on the way to save him.
Mom K. sat down next to the full, stinky can of elephant plop.
“This is terrible. We are trapped.”
* * *
DarkWave X agent Delta tried to plug his ears so he wouldn’t hear the old man singing anymore.
“This is horrible,” said DarkWave X agent Foxtrot. “We are stuck.”
* * *
Hot Magenta poked at the small fire outside a hut in the jungle.
She looked up at the stars, which reminded her of her AAA pledge, which reminded her of Agent Umber.
She was pretty sure the chief was here in the Amazon and that she would catch him.
And she was pretty sure Umber’s AEW spike at P.S. 858 was a mistake.
But if it wasn’t, she sure hoped Umber got there in time.
PWWWWWOW!
PZZZZINNNGG!
BAZOOOOOAAAANG!
Mrs. Halley fired her weapons and racked up her 375th mission.
“IT SLICES AND DICES,” Bob explained to Jennifer.
“RED BULL GIVES YOU WINGS,” said TJ.
“But Aleve is ALL DAY STRONG, ALL DAY LONG,” answered Venus.