by David Slavin
We all agree to follow Deadipus’s plan. And so we’re off to see the prince of panties, the baron of briefs, the lord of lingerie . . .
. . . the duke of drawers! Okay, now I’m done.
Hanes and Jockeyus lead us down a jungle path until we reach a clearing. Trumpets blare, and there—sitting on a throne—is King Tightywhiteyus.
“Greetings, travelers! Welcome to Underwear World! I am King Tightywhiteyus, son of King Thongous and Queen Tankinia . . .”
Principal Deadipus sees what’s happening. He’s been around kids long enough to know the old formula:
BOYS + UNDERWEAR = LAUGHTER
So he knows he’s only got seconds until we all crack up. And the king’s lineage sure isn’t helping any!
“Grandson of King Skivvius and Queen Pantaloonia . . .”
“Your grace,” interrupts Principal Deadipus. “It is an honor to meet you, and we thank you for your hospitality. As a token of our appreciation, I offer you my most treasured undergarments.”
“Leaping long johns!” King Tightywhiteyus cries with delight. “A pair of woolies!”
“And now, your highness, we beg your pardon, but we are on a mission of great urgency. Therefore, we must unfortunately take our leave.”
This does not go over well. The Underwearers all start murmuring to each other. I hear them whispering stuff like “Unbralievable!” and “Weren’t they briefed?” and “I don’t underwearstand!”
“Leave?” replies the king. “No, no, no, you can’t!”
“I’m afraid we must, sire.”
“You misunderstand me, sir. I don’t mean ‘You can’t’ like ‘Oh, I wish you wouldn’t!’ I mean ‘You can’t’ like ‘No, YOU CANNOT!’”
“Whaddya mean, we CANNOT?” sneers Puneous.
“No one leaves Underwear World without learning our national dance!” says the king. “It’s our gift to civilization! We call it the Undie. Trust me—you’ll love it!”
Here’s another tried-and-true kid formula:
BOYS + DANCING IN PUBLIC = HUMILIATION
“DANCE???” we all whimper.
“Yes indeed! In the underwear of our choice!” decrees the king.
“No way, pal!” roars Adonis. “Now you’ve gone too far!”
“King Tightywhiteyus . . . if we dance, then may we go?” asks Deadipus.
“Of course!” replies the king. “You have my word.”
“Very well,” says Deadipus. “My students and I shall confer.”
“Here’s my word,” Adonis hisses to Deadipus. “Attack!”
“I don’t like it any more than you do, Adonis,” whispers Deadipus. “But remember what I said: violence will get you nowhere!”
Reluctantly, we do as Deadipus says . . . and the next thing you know, this is happening!
I hate to admit it, but once we get past the initial EXTREME embarrassment, doing the Undie is actually kind of fun! When the dance is over, Principal Deadipus shakes hands with King Tightywhiteyus and thanks him for including us in his panty party.
“That was unbelievable Undie-ing!” gushes the king. “Dance with us tomorrow, too!”
“I wish we could, your highness,” says Deadipus. “But alas, we cannot.”
“You misunderstand me again, sir,” says the king. “When I say, ‘Dance with us tomorrow,’ I don’t mean ‘Please!’ I mean, ‘You WILL dance with us tomorrow!’”
“But you said we could go!” replies Deadipus. “You gave us your word!”
“I did! And now I give you my word again—and that word is STAY!”
“That’s . . . underhanded!” wails Deadipus.
“Not only that,” brags the king. “It’s . . . underWEARhanded! Hahahaha!”
Deadipus gathers us all together and whispers, “All right, everyone, you heard the king.”
“You mean we’re staying?” I ask.
“No, I mean we’re attacking!”
Mathena gasps. “But you said, ‘Violence will get you nowhere!’”
“Violence will get you nowhere!” hisses Deadipus. “But wedgies will get us back on our boat!”
Here’s another classic kid formula:
BOYS + OUTRAGE + UNDERWEAR = WEDGIES
“Now you’re speaking our language, Deadly!” replies Adonis. “Let’s get ready to . . . GRUNNNNNNNNNNNDY!”
“NO MORE!” screams King Tightywhiteyus. “UNCLE!!!”
“Will you let us go?” says Principal Deadipus.
“YES! YES!” replies the king. “Will you promise to stop?”
“You have our word,” says Adonis. “And that word is . . .
“WEDGIE!!!”
When we’re back onboard the Greek Freak, Adonis & Co. are even more insufferable than usual. So much high-fiving! So much chest bumping! So much woot wooting! They’re all strutting around like a bunch of . . .
“We came. We saw. We wedgied,” brags Adonis.
“Wedgie tsunami!” gloats Poseidon.
“Walkin’ in a Wedgie Wonderland!” sings Heracles.
“You know what I always say, boys,” crows Adonis. “Might is right! Now, BRING ON THE UNDERWORLD!!!”
Suddenly the sky begins to darken. The sea begins to churn. The wind begins to howl. And I begin to panic!
BOOM!!! goes the thunder.
CRASH!!! goes the lightning.
GURGLE!!! goes my stomach.
The Greek Freak gets tossed around like one of Trianus’s chew toys. Hurricane-force gales batter the boat, and giant swells push us along toward a dark tunnel that looms ahead. Mathena desperately tries to calculate angles that Phaethon can use to steer us out, but it’s no use. Even the Gods fail! Poseidon thrusts his trident at the roiling sea to try to calm it, and Heracles paddles with all his might, but they’re powerless against the savage storm.
“I really need my retainer, you guys!” screams Gaseous. “Let’s turn back!”
A monster wave slams into our boat from behind and hurls us into the tunnel. In an instant, everything goes black . . . and gets really, really HOT.
I whisper into the darkness, “Is everybody okay?”
PFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!
“Again, Gaseous,” murmurs Principal Deadipus, “a simple ‘yes’ would suffice!”
“Anybody got a light?” Puneous asks.
“I do!” replies Adonis.
He whips out the fire stick that Hestia gave Dad for his birthday—the same fire stick Dad told him not to play with! Adonis glares at me and says, “Hey, I sure wasn’t gonna let Zeusy have it!”
For once I’m glad my brother never listens! The fire stick fills the tunnel with a warm glow. As we float along the water—which has narrowed to a sliver of river—we can see signs hanging off the walls.
Yep, exactly what I was afraid of. We’re officially in the Underworld . . . and I’m officially freaking out!
We drift deeper and deeper into the tunnel. Steam rises off the river. The water is so hot that it’s starting to bubble! Oh, and here’s a nice touch: it reeks of rotten eggs!
“Ahhhh,” sighs Gaseous. “Smells like home.”
This is why I don’t have sleepovers at Gaseous’s! The one good thing about the horrible odor is that it helps me not think about how scared I am. I’m so petrified I can barely move. Then I look around at my friends. Come Hades or high water, they’re still here! They didn’t have to come along with Adonis and me. They all knew how dangerous this journey could be, and they came just the same. And none of them are abandoning ship now. Well, I say to myself, if they can keep going, I guess I can, too!
“SQUAWWWWKKK!” cries Penelope Pigeon from high up in the crow’s nest.
I think she’s spotted something! Off in the distance, another sign begins to emerge through the fog of steam.
“Does anyone have any cash?” asks Principal Deadipus.
Seriously, Principal D??? I know teachers are underpaid, but this is too much. You’re the grown-up here!
Meanwhile, someone—or som
ething—is standing on the dock waiting for us.
That must be Charon—the ferryman of the dead! It’s weird, but I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before!
“Cash or U-Pass?” he grunts.
“What’s a U-Pass?” I say.
Charon sighs. (I’m guessing he has to answer this question a lot.)
“U-Pass gets you rides on all the rivers of the Underworld: the river of pain, river of forgetfulness, river of fire, river of wailing, and river of hatred.”
“I think we’ll pass on the U-Pass,” I reply.
“We’re here to see Hades,” says Adonis. “He’s our uncle.”
“River Styx, then,” grumbles Charon. “Cash only. Pets half-price. Dead guy free.”
“I beg your pardon!” snorts Principal Deadipus. “I am very much alive!”
“Umm . . . Mr. Charon, sir?” I squeak. “We don’t have any money.”
Charon glares at me, heaves a huge sigh, and growls, “I am Charon, son of Erebus and Nyx. It is my duty to ferry the souls of the deceased over the River Styx in the service of my master, Hades. My payment is a coin that is placed in the mouth of the corpse. It’s a dirty job, but somebody has to do it. No coin, no ride.”
Adonis turns to all of us and whispers, “Anybody up for an attack?”
Then, from the back of the boat, we hear a voice say, “I got this.” Phaethon steps forward, turns to Charon, and mutters mournfully, “I’m Phaethon, the driver. My father is Helios, the Sun God. He granted me one wish, and I asked to drive his sun chariot across the sky. He said it would be too much for me. I said it wouldn’t be, but it was, and I crashed. As punishment, I’m doomed to drive a school chariot for all eternity.”
Charon replies, “You have to drive a school chariot for all eternity?”
Phaethon nods and moans, “For all eternity.”
“Wow,” Charon exclaims. “That’s even worse than my job!”
“Trust me,” Phaethon says, sighing. “It is.”
“Well, I’m still going to need some form of payment,” says Charon. “Got anything else on board?”
Hmmm.
The only other things we have are . . . are . . . hold on . . . wait a minute . . . oh my Gods . . . that’s it! That’s where I’ve seen Charon before! The only other things we have on board . . . are THESE!
“Awww—they’re adorable!” gushes Charon.
“These cutie patooties will work!” Charon cries. “All aboard!!!”
Mom was right—the trolls are good luck! Everyone (including the pets) disembarks from the Greek Freak and climbs into Charon’s rickety boat. It’s hard to believe we’re actually feeling lucky that we get to cross the river of death. Then again, nothing about this trip is surprising me anymore!
“Welcome aboard the Styx Shuttle,” drones Charon. “Please stow your carry-on bags in the compartment below you and keep your seat backs and tray tables in the upright and locked position. Also, keep your hands, arms, legs, feet, wings, paws, and tails inside the boat at all times. In the event of a water emergency, it really won’t matter because you’re already on the river of death. In a moment, I’ll be coming through the cabin to offer refreshments. Today’s choices are blood of the damned and mini pretzels.”
I wasn’t expecting much, but the Styx Shuttle has to be the worst way to travel ever. The eerie darkness, the smell of sulfur, and the stifling heat are overwhelming. The constant wailing of the departed souls is terrifying. And Charon’s tour is an absolute NIGHTMARE.
“Coming up on your left are grief, war, anxiety, diseases, and old age. On your right are fear, hunger, death, agony, and eternal sleep.”
“This is freaking me out, dude,” Gaseous hisses to me. “Plus, these pretzels are stale!”
“Try the blood of the damned,” whispers Deadipus. “It’s spicy!”
It gets worse, though. Charon rattles on as we pass some of the most hideous and horrifying creatures I’ve ever seen!
“MAKE IT STOP!” screams Puneous.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Charon’s boat slows and the hellish ride is over.
“It’s been our pleasure scaring you today,” says Charon. “As you exit, please fill out your comment cards and let us know how we can make your next visit less enjoyable.”
We file out of Charon’s boat, and there—rising up before us—stand the Gates of Hades. Yikes! On the gates is a huge sign with three ominous words: BEWARE OF DOG.
Double yikes! We all know what monstrous mutt that is: CERBERUS!!!
“How are we supposed to get past him???” asks Mathena.
“Beats me,” replies Charon. “You could try offering him the smallest member of your group as a sacrifice while the rest of you go through!”
“WHY THE SMALLEST???” roars Puneous.
“He likes small plates,” replies Charon. “Easier for him to digest.”
Puneous glares at us and says, “You’re not actually CONSIDERING this, are you???”
Hmmm.
Before I can answer, Cerberus starts creeping toward us, his three heads snorting and slobbering and sniffing the air like he’s closing in on an all-you-can-eat buffet! Fiery, foul dog breath mingles with the rotten-eggy air. Trust me: no one will EVER make a candle called Underworld Potpourri. Still, the stench does attract one member of our crew: TRIANUS!
“NOOOOO!!!” I howl. “STAY, BOY, STAY!!!”
But it’s a dog-meet-dog world out there! Trianus bounds past me and hightails it toward Cerberus—until he comes face-to-face with the heinous hellhound. Correction: make that FACES-TO-BUTTS!
“Okay, I get it,” Gaseous observes. “But it’s still disgusting.”
“Stop staring and start sprinting, you guys!” orders Mathena. “This is our chance! Cerberus isn’t guarding the gates!”
“She’s right!” says Adonis. “He’s busy mooning over Trianus! Let’s go!”
“But I can’t just leave him!” I sob.
“We’ll call for him when we get through!” says Mathena. “Come on!”
We make a mad dash for the gates. But the gates are locked!
“What do we do?” I wail. “The gates are too narrow for us to squeeze through!”
“Too narrow for you chunky monkeys,” says Puneous. “But not too narrow for me!”
Puneous climbs through and opens the gates from the other side!
“So,” I say to Puneous, “who were you saying was useless again?”
In all the excitement, I almost forget about Trianus! I whistle for my plucky pooch, and he comes running, too. I wait for Cerberus to give chase, but from the looks of things, it appears the sniff-a-thon has soothed the savage beast!
Hey, you know what they say: LOVE STINKS!
Trianus makes his escape from Cerberus’s lovesick snouts, and we bolt the gates behind us.
We turn around to find a huge frosted-glass door in front of us.
“I wonder what that means,” says Gaseous.
“Should we go in?” I ask.
“What choice do we have?” replies Mathena. “There’s no going back now!”
We open the door and step into an empty waiting room with gray linoleum floors, gray plastic chairs, and buzzing fluorescent lighting. It looks a lot like a dentist’s office—which, to a bunch of kids, is not exactly reassuring!
We approach the frosted-glass windows and press a small white button that rings way too loudly. The window panels slide open and the receptionists angrily bark, “Can I help you???”
Wow—what Harpies! And by that I mean ACTUAL HARPIES!
“H-h-hello,” I sputter. “My name is Oddonis. We’re here to see Hades, please.”
“He’s our uncle,” adds my brother. “And I’m Adonis—maybe you’ve heard of me? I’m kind of a big deal.”
The Harpies ignore Adonis and squawk, “Do you have an appointment?”
“N-no,” I reply. “But it’s really important that we see him. We’ve come a long way.”
“It’s th
e Underworld, sweetie,” they sneer. “Everybody’s come a long way. Take a seat and we’ll call you when it’s your turn.”
The Harpies slam the windows shut. The only thing we can do is sit and wait. And wait. And wait.
Like the rest of the Underworld, Hades’s waiting room is boiling hot. The chairs are hard and uncomfortable. The constant buzzing of the lights is beyond annoying. And the WORST SONG is playing over the tinny-sounding speakers. Plus, the song keeps repeating over and over and over!
It’s like this place was specially designed to drive us crazy!
“I can’t take it anymore!” hisses Adonis. “I gotta get outta here!”
“Oh, yeah?” I tease. “What are you going to do—bust down the door?”
“Now you’re talking!” replies Adonis.
“Sounds good to me,” says Poseidon.
“Me . . . forget what come next,” says Heracles.
“Arrrggghhh!” I moan. “Not again!”
“This isn’t Underwear World, you guys,” says Mathena. “It’s the Underworld!”
I plead with Puneous, “Can you talk to these knuckleheads?”
“Sorry,” replies Puneous. “I don’t speak Moron anymore.”
“Line up!” says Adonis to his crew. “Assume battering ram positions!”
“Three! Two! One!” counts Adonis. “GO!!! RAMMING SPEEEEED!!!!”
The Three Dunceketeers smash through the waiting-room door, and all we hear is a collective cry of “AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!” as they disappear into a dark and fiery abyss!
The glass panels slide open again, and the Harpies announce, “The God of the Underworld will see you now.”
Hmmm.
After seeing what I just saw, I’m not sure I want to be seen! See?
“Do we have to go?” asks Gaseous. “I forgot to mention, I’m allergic.”