The Mayor raised both hands. “Hold on, little lady, don’t get ahead of yourself. You need a plan for this rescue mission, and I happen to have one. Also, there is one more thing you need to know,” said the Mayor.
“Okay. Let’s hear it,” said William.
With that, the Mayor began. “I don’t have time to tell you everything right now. I believe that the man who has kidnapped the Colonel and is holding him in the projection room knows something about us.” The Mayor popped over to an old chalkboard lying face up on a table and began to draw out the plans to the rescue.
“His name is Kettler Cornwell, and he knows about the glasses,” said William.
Ol’ Half-Popped, Pop-Along, Ty-nee, and Cracker Jack Sparrow made their way over to the table. The chalkboard had a drawing of an aerial view of a board room table and chairs, and each Pop sat on one of the small squares that were surrounding a large rectangle that was the table. The Mayor stood at the head of the table.
“Mind if I POP in to help?” asked Larry, pulling along Corn Dog.
The Mayor looked up to William and tried to hide his impatience with the cheesy popcorn.
“Larry, I believe we have this under control. Thank you for offering.”
Ol’ Half-Popped’s scowl of betrayal glared out at the rest of the group. He was not going to be willing to cooperate with any plan that was against their long-standing rules of engagement.
The Mayor gathered his thoughts, seemingly ignoring Ol’ Half-Popped’s protesting expression, and he began: “Okay, men! We have a mission and this is a big one. We need to rescue the Colonel from the projection room. Here’s the plan: We are going to create the illusion that people have come into the theater by illuminating life-sized movie character cardboard cutouts with the projector light and moving them on strings. This will be done from Stock om, and it will create shadows on the movie screen. If we get this right, the kidnapper will run out to see what’s going on.”
Ol’ Half-Popped was fuming. “How dare you take control of this situation?”
The Mayor raised his eyebrows. “It has to be done, Sergeant. There’s no other way. We can’t possibly do this without the kids. Why do you think I tried to keep them here while I put this all together?”
Ol’ Half-Popped didn’t relax his shoulders, and his mood soured further. “What good could the kids possibly be?”
The Mayor smiled. “Well, for starters, they know more about the kidnapper and his motives than we do, not to mention how invaluable their size is.”
Ol’ Half-Popped slapped his gloves in the palm of his hand. “Fine, just remember when it all falls apart; none of this was my idea.”
“Understood, Sergeant,” said the Mayor. “Here’s the plan: The kids will get some of those old life sized movie character cardboard cutouts leaning in the corner over there, sticky tape, and string. Pop-Along will take Indian Corn to scout out the projection room and make sure we know without a doubt that the Colonel is in there. When we have confirmation that the Colonel is inside, Ol’ Half-Popped will deploy the Special Forces to get him out of the room. Ty-nee will take both baseball teams and get ready to practice sliding into home. They will need to get a running start then un-pop right under the kidnapper’s feet as he comes down the last stair, causing him to slip and fall on up-popped kernels.. Once he is down, Cracker Jack Sparrow and the Popcorn Pirates will make sure we have all the time we need to get the Colonel into Stock om. You pirates are free to do whatever needs to be done. Are there any questions?”
William raised his hand. “How are they going to get into the projection room? It’s locked.”
“There is an air vent that connects this room to the projection room. I discovered it when I learned that some of the Pop-ulation had been sneaking out to go exploring the Land of the Lost Pops. The Colonel has been seeing them in the Land of the Lost Pops from time to time. In a bit of bad luck, he couldn’t communicate with them because he only had the monocle, not the glasses. He doesn’t like us to venture away from the safety of Stock om. I think the name explains why. Over the years, we have lost a few of the Pop-ulation out there. With the monocle, he can see us, but he is unable to hear us. I wondered where the glasses must have been, but I now know he had passed them on to you.”
“Why does he even have the monocle? It seems pretty useless. Why wouldn’t he just use these glasses?” asked William.
“He developed the eyeglass as a backup to the glasses and also for convenience. The downfall is not having the earpiece to be able to hear us, but we came up with a few hand signals and that worked in a pinch.”
“Why has he created all of this?” said Marie.
A strange look came over the Mayor’s face as if he were being sucked back into the past. “The Colonel didn’t tell you about us before giving you the glasses? You’ve had to find all of this out on your own; I suppose that is better. You may not have believed him or thought that he was just a crazy old man. A long time ago, the Colonel....”
William cut him off. “Can we call him Mr. Z.?”
The Mayor was annoyed but agreed with a huff. “Okay, Mr. Z.…,” he said rolling his eyes, “needed to create tiny spies. He will have to tell you the reasons why when he is ready. Now let’s get this show on the road, if you know what I mean.”
“Hahaha, you all are funny,” laughed Marie. “’Get the show on the road is your expression because we are in a movie theater! I get it!”
William looked over at her. “Really? Did you just say that?”
Marie just grinned and stifled giggles by covering her mouth with her hand.
“Beggin yer pardon Mayor, but could ye go over the fine print? Me thinks me may have missed a bit or two here and there,” said Cracker Jack, wincing as the cold stare of the Sergeant landed on him.
The Mayor took a deep breath and said rather hurriedly. “Okay, here’s the fine print. William will be getting the projector working. Marie will be collecting and setting up the cardboard cutouts of movie characters. Pop-Along and Indian Corn will then give the signal by sending a Posse member back to Stock om to report that the Colonel is in fact the room. Once we have that signal, then we will start the projector and light the screen from the back. With any luck, the kidnapper will think there are people down in the audience and will leave the room to check it out. Ty-nee and the team will get the kidnapper to the ground. That’s when William, who will be waiting behind the projection room door, will dart in and lead the Colonel out and back to Stock om. Then Cracker Jack Sparrow will take the Popcorn Pirates to make sure that the kidnapper doesn’t make it back to the projection room until we have the Colonel back to Stock om and out of harm’s way.”
Larry peeked out from behind the chalkboard eraser that was standing on one end and watched the meeting. As he leaned forward on the eraser, it began to tip over. It was too late; he couldn’t stop it. With a thud, the eraser landed on the table. White chalk dust billowed out in every direction. When the dust settled, everyone seated on the chalkboard looked like members of a British court wearing a powdered wig. Larry held up one finger and decided to make the best the situation. “’Ello Gov’na,” he said in his best British accent. “I say this London fog is much dryer than I thought it would be this time of year.”
They all just glared at him with blinking watery eyes.
“I see you are back to the old drawing board, eh,” he said, pointing at the chalkboard they were sitting on. “I say ol’ chaps, I’ve got the best tracking dog in Scotland Yard, I do. He’d cost but a few shillings. Do ring me should you need his services. Cheerio and good day to you, I’m off for a spot of tea.” Larry bowed and turned to leave. “God save the Queen!” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Rescue Mission
William and Marie protested the Mayor’s plan, saying that they needed to tell the police everything. The Mayor convinced them that the Colonel woul
d explain to them why they weren’t involving the police in this one. William and Marie watched as all the rescue mission team leaders put their little hands together in a circle and yelled “It’s go time!” Pop-Along, Indian Corn, and a few of the Posse began to climb a towering stack of old worn-out movie reels. One by one, they disappeared into the air vent. William went over and got to work trying to make the projector run, and Marie rummaged around the room and chose a life-sized cardboard cutout of a wizard and a superhero to use for the silhouettes to lure out the kidnapper. The Mayor directed the Special Forces to open the Land of the Lost Pops gate. William heard Cracker Jack Sparrow tell his crew they would hide under the last seat on the front row, where they would wait for their target to pass.
Once the Cowboys made it all the way up the air duct, they made a popcorn strand like a garland on a Christmas tree as they lowered one another down onto a table in the back of the projection room. The Colonel was there. He didn’t have his monocle, so he had no way of knowing the popcorn had arrived to save him. And since time was standing still, they had no way of trying to get his attention. He looked like he was handcuffed to a chair. This hadn’t been planned for; they were going to have to improvise. The last Popcorn Posse member was still hanging from the vent as everyone else took cover in the room. He pulled himself back up and slid down the air vent and back into Stock om. He told the Mayor that he had seen the Colonel. Stage two of the plan was a go. William put the old projector behind the super hero and the wizard and waited for the Mayor’s direction.
“William, have you got that projector ready?” said the Mayor.
William grinned. “I think so, sir!” he was excited to be playing such an important role in the rescue of Mr. Z.
“You go sneak up and hide behind the projection room door. When the light comes on, you both will have to remove your glasses. Then, when Cornwell comes out, you go in and get the Colonel. We will handle the rest.” William looked at Marie and smiled, then headed out the door.
After he was gone, the Mayor asked Marie to get ready to flip the switch for the light on the projector. The Mayor waited several minutes for William to get into place. When he felt confident, he called out, “Now, Marie, the switch!”
Marie flipped the switch, and the room lit with a bright light. The light shone on the cardboard cutouts, and they made a shadow on the back of the screen. She removed her glasses and hoped William had done the same. Since she was able to move at a normal pace, she knew he had taken them off. Cornwell would think there were people in there with him any minute now. Marie grabbed the strings she had tied to the cardboard cutouts and moved them back and forth. It made it look like they were alive and moving around. If this did not bring Cornwell out, then nothing would.
As if right on cue, the door to the projection room flew open and Cornwell burst out of the room and down the stairs. Just as a look of surprise came across his face, he slipped on what seemed like marbles and fell down, bumping his head on the arm rest of the seat nearest him. Once he was down, Ty-Nee, Willy, and the other players POP POP POP exploded back into popped corn and not just the little golden kernels they had changed into so he would slip and fall. He was out like a light.
Mr. Zuckerwatte was indeed handcuffed to a chair. The Special Forces had arrived from the air vent with perfect timing and had gone to work trying to set him free. Ol’ Half-Popped suggested that they pop the lock by becoming un-popped then popping once inside the lock. A brave volunteer stepped forward and un-popped into a little golden kernel. Ol’ Half-Popped picked him up and placed him in the keyhole of the handcuffs. One POP and the lock broke free. He un-popped once more and then Ol’ Half-Popped pulled him out. POP, and he was himself again. Ol’ Half-Popped saluted him for a job well done. The handcuffs were left hanging from the chair as everyone escaped the projection room and headed for the safety of Stock om.
William went into the projector room. “Are you okay Mr. Z.?” William asked, concerned. Mr. Z. did not look well. He looked exhausted.
“Yes, Villiam, I am fine. How did you get in here? Zee handcuffs, zey hove just popped off. Vee need to get home. How long have you been wearing zee glasses?”
William stopped mid-stride and put his hand over his pocket where the glasses were. “I - I’m not sure,” he said. “We need to get to Stock om. Let’s go through the lobby; Cornwell is in the theater.” William tried unlocking the door to the lobby but the lock was stuck. Cornwell had jammed a small screwdriver into the lock, and William couldn’t get it out. They were going to have to take their chances with Cornwell.
Easing out of the projector room, they cautiously scanned the semi-dark theater but saw no movement. As they reached the bottom of the stairs near the first row of seats, they saw that Kettler Cornwell was sitting up looking around. At first, William panicked a bit that he had seen them escaping, but they soon realized something was off. He had a dazed look on his face, but he also had something else on his face: a rather large cotton candy mustache under his nose had been tied into his black mustache, the ends of it curled up in comical swirls. It stuck out several inches on either side of his face. William tried to keep from laughing.
“Where am I? Who are you? Where is my Grandpa?” asked Cornwell, his cotton candy mustache bouncing as he spoke.
Mr. Zuckerwatte helped him to his feet and with a stoic expression said, “You took your grandfather back to your vite van wiz zee green tree on it in zee parking lot around in front of zee movie house. Let me just show you zee way out.” said Mr. Zuckerwatte, as he opened the exit door that was a few feet away.
“Oh, thank you,” replied Cornwell. He walked out with his bright pink mustache still attached.
“You go wait in zee van wiz your grandfather and I vill make sure someone finds you soon,” urged Mr. Zuckerwatte.
“Will he be okay? Why doesn’t he know who he is?” asked William.
“He vill be fine. I suspect it’s a bit of temporary forgetfulness from zee bump on his head. He remembers his grandfather and dat’s a good sign,” Mr. Zuckerwatte assured him.
William followed Mr. Zuckerwatte toward the curtain that hid the entrance to Stock om, glancing out of the open exit door as it was slowly closing. The twins ran up to Cornwell; one of them had a puzzled look on his face as he stared open mouthed at the cotton candy mustache. The other twin pulled out his cell phone, snapped a photo, looked at his brother and said, “We’ve got a free pass with this one.” They were high-fiving when the door clicked shut.
Once they were inside Stock om, Mr. Zuckerwatte asked for the glasses and William and Marie gave them to him. Mr. Zuckerwatte took both pairs in his hands and turned them over once so that the bottoms of the hinges on the earpieces were facing up. He pulled a tiny golden tool from his vest pocket, inserted it into a small screw, and gave it a turn to the left. After he had done the same with the second pair, he joined the two together. A light flickered between them, then a small meter lit up on the lenses. It showed seven minutes remaining.
“I was afraid of zis, Villiam. Vee need to get zese glasses back to der box before zee time reservoir runs out,” Mr. Zuckerwatte told them with his tired voice. “Unfortunately, Cornwell has stolen zee monocle; I may never get it back.”
“What happens if the time runs out, Mr. Z.?” asked Marie.
“We didn’t know about a time limit,” said William. “I guess we have a lot to learn. Why did you leave these glasses for me to find?
“Dere vill be a time for answers children, but now is not dat time. Right now vee need to all get home,” replied Mr. Zuckerwatte.
He looked around at the Pop-ulation and gave a warm smile. “I vill see you tomorrow, my friends,” he told them.
Without so much as a sound, the monocle that Cornwell had stolen rolled out into the middle of the room from under the soda cup with the door cutout. Mr. Zuckerwatte stooped over, picked it up, and placed it over his eye. When he looke
d through it, he saw an orange handprint that was the exact shade of powered cheese.
“Danke, thank you, Larry,” he said to the empty room as he closed the stock room door.
The trio went out into the night and hurried back to Maize Row as fast as they could. Mr. Zuckerwatte found his second wind so that they made good time.
“I need to get inside so my Granny isn’t worried. I’ll see you tomorrow, William. This has been one unbelievable adventure. Bye Mr. Z.; I’m glad you’re safe!” called Marie as she hurried home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Return Home
Upon reaching the Zuckerwatte’s house, Mr. Z. instructed William to put the glasses into their box and to close the latch until the next morning. William promised he would. Then he told William to meet him in his garden the next morning at 7:00. William agreed and then ran inside and called his dad on his cell phone.
“Dad, Mr. Z. is home! There is a light on in the house.”
“Okay, we are headed home now,” answered William’s father in relief.
Within a few minutes, headlights appeared down the street. Soon after, the car pulled into the drive. The porch light lit the path as William’s father walked Mrs. Zuckerwatte up her sidewalk. Mr. Zuckerwatte was sitting in the rocking chair, and when Mrs. Zuckerwatte saw him, she gave a warm smile. He shook William’s dad’s hand, and after a short conversation the couple went into the house, then turned and waved before closing the door. William carefully returned the glasses to the safety of their box and stowed it under his bed and then ran downstairs to meet his father at the door.
“Is everything okay? What happened?” William asked his dad.
“Mr. Zuckerwatte said he got tied up at the theater and lost track of time. He was taking care of a few things in the stock room and had decided to leave out the back way, since he was nearest to that exit and had already locked everything up front. He forgot to tell Mrs. Z. he was just going to walk home this evening. He must have been working in the stock room when we went to find him. You should have seen the man in the white nursing home van that was parked at the theater; I think he may have been a clown. He had a huge pink mustache, and the kids with him were laughing hysterically,” William’s dad chuckled. “I feel like I’m forgetting something… oh well. Do you want to watch a movie before we turn in for the night?” William’s dad asked.
The Popcorn Colonel Page 8