“Maybe they were working for someone.”
That didn’t make Dave feel any more comfortable.
“Who would send someone to try and turn a bunch of fifth graders into zombies?”
“Well, whoever it is, you can bet that they’re evil and dastardly,” John said, looking serious. Then he started laughing and lightly hit Dave on the shoulder.
“Oh man, you should see your face! Priceless!”
Dave relaxed his expression and flashed John a huge smile.
“That sounds like Rubberband Boy talk to me.”
John smiled back. He held up his hand for a high-five just as Mr. Santers finished his speech.
“Ah, excellent,” Mr. Santers said. “Our first volunteer. You will remain behind after school today and take a quiz so that I know how far in the curriculum the class has gotten.”
John stared at Dave with his mouth open. Dave stared in amusement at John. John groaned.
Somewhere unknown, cloaked in shadow and mystery, two evil and dastardly figures were sitting at a table. Tiny rays of sunlight sprinkled in through the drawn curtains, barely illuminating the shapes in otherwise absolute darkness. The tall, skinny figure was wearing a monocle and slowly stroking a cat that sat purring in his lap. He was looking across the table at the shorter, heavier figure, who was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, sipping a cup of tea and looking off to the side. The taller one spoke first.
“So the trial run was a success?”
“Yes, the boy reacted exactly as expected.”
“He was given both chemicals?”
“Yes. During the morning, one of our agents set off the fire alarm and doused him with the external chemicals as the children were ushered out of the building. Another agent slipped the internal chemicals into his food at lunch time.”
“And Lich Alpha was able to activate the chemical complexes with his special ability?”
“Yes. The chemical reactions occurred just as the formula said they would. The boy’s body reacted exactly as our scientists predicted.”
“But we lost control of the boy?”
“Minor setback. We can complete the process at any time. The boy is ours.”
“And our minions?”
“We extracted both from the scene at the first opportunity. There were no witnesses.”
“Excellent. You wiped their memories, of course?”
“Of course. Neither one remembers ever having stepped foot in that school, and neither will ever remember having fought the boy.”
“Good. It would not be wise to allow for personal vendettas. There is no room for thoughts of revenge. Our minions are nothing more than expendable guinea pigs whose sole purpose is to obey our commands and further our much grander schemes.”
“Agreed.”
The smaller figure lifted the teacup to his lips and took a deep, contented sip. The cat was starting to fidget in the lap of the taller one. The taller man ignored it and spoke again.
“I believe it is time to begin Phase Two.”
The second shadowed figure put down his cup and looked up at the first.
“You don’t mean …”
“Yes. Release the squirrels.”
The cat rolled onto its back and groaned.
Jonathan Neuman began drawing comics in the third grade. These comics were constantly confiscated and torn up by his teachers. For some reason, teachers like to tear up confiscated material very neatly. This makes it very easy to tape back together.
When Jonathan was in the fourth grade, he created an exclusive club based off of his comics. Other kids were upset about being excluded. The club was so notorious that the principal told Jonathan to disband the club forever. That’s when Jonathan turned his principal into a bad guy in his comics. Never mess with a boy and his creations.
When Jonathan was in the fifth grade, he was kicked out of class within the first five minutes every single day for not being “muh-TOOR” enough. He was told to “go outside until he could regain his composure.” Jonathan still has not regained his composure. He still is unsure as to what “muh-TOOR” means. He also still doesn’t eat spinach.
When Jonathan was in the seventh grade, he was given a box of 1000 rubber bands, and thus, the hero you now know and love was officially born! Jonathan did not have a cool costume, but he did have his own theme music, which he would sing every time he entered a room and shot off a round of rubber bands. It wasn’t that good. His voice is still hoarse.
Lots of more stuff happened to Jonathan while he was in school (for example, he blinked from time to time), but that will have to wait until the next Rubberband Boy. Stay tuned!
The Amazing Magnificent Stupendous Incredible Outstanding Unbeatable Exceptional (and Humble) Rubberband Boy Page 10