Get Smart 5 - Missed It By That Much!

by William Johnston

“The perfect spot!” Hassan yelled back. “A bowling alley in Provo, Utah. It’s never had an animal stampede!”

  “That’s quick thinking, all right,” Max said. “But isn’t Provo, Utah, a bit far from here?”

  “You’re trying to lead again,” Hassan said admonishingly.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Max . . . up ahead . . . look!” 99 said. “There’s Paradise again. Maybe we can hide in there!”

  “99, that’s only an illusion.”

  “I know, Max. But it’s closer than Provo, Utah. So couldn’t we take advantage of it, anyway?”

  “I’ll ask Hassan,” Max replied. “Hassan—” he called.

  “Don’t bother me with questions!” Hassan yelled. “Quick—into the illusion. It’s a short-cut to Provo, Utah.”

  The three dashed through the gate. Ahead, they could hear the sounds of battle; the protesters, the anti-protesters and the anti-anti-protesters apparently were still fighting. A moment later they reached the scene of the fray.

  The host was shaking both fists at the inhabitants, who were busily engaged in dropping each other with karate chops.

  “Okay, this is it!” the host raged. “I’ve been kidding before, but this is really it! I’m warning you! Stop the foolishness! Do you hear me? You’re really going to get it! Honest Injun! You really are! Such a lightning bolt! You’re really going to get it!”

  Max, 99 and Hassan tried to push their way through the battling inhabitants. But they were mistaken for protesters and dropped with karate chops.

  “Max, the stampede is getting closer!” 99 wailed. “We’ll be trampled!”

  At that moment, however, one of the anti-protesters got a whiff of the terrible odor. “It’s the lightning bolt!” he shrieked.

  Instantly, the rest of the anti-protesters, joined by the protesters and anti-anti-protesters hiked up their flowing white robes and fled the terrible odor.

  “I warned them,” the host said.

  “Uh, I don’t like to prick your bubble,” Max said. “But that wasn’t a lightning bolt.”

  “Oh?” the host said, crestfallen.

  “No, that’s a terrible odor, accompanied by the sound of stampeding animals,” Max said.

  “Then what’s a lightning bolt?” the host asked.

  “A great flash of light that destroys everything in its path,” Max replied.

  The host looked around. “Well, they’re gone,” he said.

  “But there was no great, flash of light,” Max pointed out.

  “So? So it was a different kind of lightning bolt. It did the job, that’s what’s important.”

  99 tugged at Max’s sleeve. “Max, please, let’s go!”

  “You better come with us,” Max said to the host. “In a few moments this place is going to be trampled underfoot by a stampede of thousands of fear-crazed jungle animals.”

  “Let ’em come,” the host replied cockily. “I’ll hit ’em with a lightning bolt.” He lowered his voice. “Frankly, I’d never used it before. But, now that I’ve got the hang of it, I’m invincible.”

  “Max . . . let’s go!”

  “99, I think we have a duty to convince our host that he is not invincible,” Max said.

  “Max, in a few minutes, when those animals come stampeding through here, he’s going to find that out.”

  “You have a point there, 99. Experience is the best teacher.”

  “Max . . .”

  “Let’s go, 99!”

  Max, 99 and Hassan raced on. Soon they reached the wall that enclosed the illusion.

  “Max! We’re trapped!” 99 cried.

  “Hardly, 99. Remember—that wall is an illusion. We only imagine that it’s there.”

  “You mean we can crash right through it?”

  “No, what I mean is that if we can imagine that there’s a wall there, then we can just as easily imagine that there’s a ladder leaning against it.”

  “Max, you’re right! Look! A ladder!”

  “Up and over!” Max said, mounting the ladder.

  Max, 99 and Hassan cleared the wall, then went dashing on into the jungle, followed by the terrible odor and the sound of stampeding animals.

  “Max . . . wasn’t that a little strange,” 99 said. “Until you mentioned it, there was no ladder there. Then suddenly it appeared. Whitestone must be somewhere nearby.”

  “99, that’s ridiculous. That ladder helped us escape. Why would Whitestone do that for us?”

  “I don’t know, Max. Unless—”

  99 was interrupted by a ringing sound.

  “Will somebody get the door,” Max said.

  “I think it was your shoe,” Hassan said.

  “Oh . . . yes . . .”

  Hopping on one foot, Max removed his shoe.

  Max: 86, here. Is that you, Chief?

  Chief: Are you all right, Max? You sound a little out of breath.

  Max: That’s because I’m out of breath, Chief. You see, we’re being pursued by a stampede of fear-stricken jungle animals.

  Operator: You wouldn’t catch Arnold in a position like that.

  Max: Oh, is that so? What would Arnold do?

  Operator: He’d hit ’em with a lightning bolt.

  Chief: Max, in case you don’t escape that stampede, maybe you better tell me what information you’ve gathered on Dr. Livingstrom—so I can pass it on to the agent who takes over the case.

  Operator: Yes, Arnold will appreciate that, Max.

  Max (hurt): Chief . . . Operator . . . I’m surprised. Don’t I always manage to extricate myself from these impossible situations? Have a little faith. Believe in me.

  Chief: I’m sorry, Max. Of course, I believe in you.

  Operator: I’m sorry, too, Max. You’ll pull through—I’m sure you will. But, Max, when those stampeding animals catch up with you and you fall, will you fall on your shoe phone, please? I wouldn’t want it to be damaged. Arnold will need it when he takes over for you.

  Chief: Operator, I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself. Arnold still hasn’t filled out an application.

  Max: Some secret agent candidate. He can’t even find the Chief’s office.

  Operator: It must be hiding.

  Chief: Operator, my office is right where it’s always been.

  Operator: That explains it. Arnold was probably expecting a trick. He knows how tricky secret agents are. Hide your office, Chief, so Arnold will be able to find it.

  Chief: I will not!

  Operator: You won’t even give Arnold a chance! Shame on you! Both of you!

  Chief: I’m sorry, Operator. Maybe you’re right. I’ll move my office down the hall a few doors, if you think that’ll help.

  Operator: That’s the spirit! And, Max, what about you? Will you get trampled by an elephant now?

  Max (listening with one ear to the sound of the stampeding animals): I may not have much choice, Operator. There’s bound to be an elephant somewhere in that stampede.

  Operator: Wonderful! Let’s ring off now. We all have work to do. Chief—get that office hidden. Max—fall down in front of an elephant. And, Max, remember—when you fall, fall on Arnold’s shoe phone! But gently!

  Max hung up.

  “Max, this scenery looks familiar,” 99 said. “Haven’t we been through here before?”

  “I don’t know,” Max replied. “How about it, Hassan? Have we been this way before?”

  “It depends,” Hassan replied. “Have you ever taken the short-cut to Provo, Utah, before?”

  “Max!” 99 said. “I know where we are! We’re—”

  Before 99 could complete the statement, she and Max and Hassan found themselves suddenly surrounded by the revolutionaries they had left behind hours earlier. They recognized the follower who had taken notes at their trial. Apparently he was the new leader.

  “A-ha! We knew you’d come down sooner or later!” he said.

  “Come down?” Max said.

  “Thought you could escape by b
lowing yourselves sky-high, eh?” the new leader said. “Well, it didn’t work. Now, line up! We promised you an execution, and you’re going to get it!”

  “Well, I guess this is it, 99,” Max said. “Our luck has run out. All we can do is line up. Now, let’s see, how shall we do this—alphabetically?”

  “How about according to height?” Hassan said, “I’ll stand in the rear.”

  “I don’t think that would be quite fair, Hassan,” Max said. “If you were standing in the rear, you’d be behind 99 and me, and the executioners wouldn’t be able to see you.”

  “That’s the breaks,” Hassan smiled.

  “No, alphabetically, I think, is fairer all around. Let’s see, now . . . ‘H’ for ‘Hassan’ comes first. Then . . . mmmmm . . . which is next in the alphabet, ‘S’ for ‘Smart’ or ‘9’ for ‘99’?” Shaking his head, he turned to the new leader. “I’m afraid this isn’t going to work. Letters and numbers just don’t mix. The execution will have to be called off.”

  “No, just a minute,” the new leader said. “I think we can work something out. How about lining up according to age?”

  “Never!” 99 said. “I’d rather die than tell my age!”

  The new leader sniffed the air. “What’s that?”

  “Would you believe a lightning bolt?” Max said.

  The new leader cocked an ear. “I think you’re right. I hear thunder.”

  “That’s a stampede,” Max said. “In a very few minutes, a pack of fear-stricken jungle animals will come charging through this camp, destroying everything and everyone in its path. So, if you’re going to hold an execution, you’d better get on with it, before we’re all killed.”

  “There’s the problem about lining up,” the new leader reminded him.

  “It’s been my experience,” Max said, “that a problem is a problem only if you make it a problem. Now, if you’d just tell your men to go ahead and shoot, I think the problem of lining up would take care of itself.”

  “I’ll try it,” the new leader said. “But, frankly, it sounds like only a temporary solution to me.” He turned to his men. “Ready! Aim!” He looked around puzzledly. “Men? Where are you?”

  Max pointed. “Are those your men? The fellows racing toward the jungle, holding their noses?”

  “Men! Come back!” the new leader called. “Running away won’t solve the problem!”

  “I don’t think they can hear you over the thunder of the stampede,” Max said.

  The new leader went chasing after them. “Wait! Wait! You’re supposed to be the followers—I’m supposed to be the leader!”

  Max, 99 and Hassan dashed toward the jungle, too, using the trail being blazed by the fleeing revolutionaries. Behind them the thunder of hoofs grew louder.

  There was a ringing sound.

  Hopping on one foot, Max removed his shoe.

  Max: 86, here.

  Voice (female): Congratulations, Mr. 86! You have just won ten free dance lessons!

  Max: Gee! That’s wonderful. But, at the moment, I’m afraid I won’t be able to take advantage of it. You see, I’m being chased by a stampede of fear-stricken jungle animals.

  Voice: That is too bad. But is there anyone else there who might be interested in ten free dance lessons? It’s a wonderful opportunity. All you have to do to get your free lessons is sign up for an additional five hundred paid lessons, at a nominal cost of only three hundred and twenty-two thousand dollars. Where can you beat a deal like that?

  Max: Hold on a moment, please.

  Max turned to 99. “99, are you interested in free dance lessons?”

  “Gee, I don’t know, Max?” 99 replied. “What dances do they teach?”

  “I didn’t ask. Why don’t you talk to the girl, 99. She can probably answer your questions.” He took off his other shoe and handed it to 99. “You can use the extension,” he said.

  99: Hello? What was it now about dance lessons?

  Voice: Congratulations, Mrs. 86! You’ve—

  99: No, no, I’m not Mrs. 86. I’m 99.

  Voice: Congratulations, Mrs. 99! You’ve just won ten free dance lessons. And all it will cost you is three hundred and twenty-two thousand dollars.

  99: Oh, well, that lets me out. I just couldn’t afford it.

  Voice: Mr. 86? Are you still there? Do you have any friends who aren’t cheap?

  Max: Miss, I’m afraid I’m going to have to hang up now. I think I mentioned that we’re being pursued by a pack of fear-stricken jungle animals.

  Voice: Oh. Well, then, look, could you do me a favor? Put one of the animals on.

  Max hung up and put his shoes back on.

  “Max! Up ahead!” 99 said. “The bridge! The Peace Corpsmen must have rebuilt it!”

  “And just in time,” Max said. “Apparently our luck hasn’t deserted us.”

  As Max, 99 and Hassan rushed up to the bridge, they were met by the Peace Corpsmen. “How does it look?” the leader said proudly.

  “Like it was built by a drop-out from the Massachusetts College of Dentistry,” Max replied. “Is it safe?”

  “It must be,” the leader replied. “A bunch of people in flowing white robes just crossed it, and, after that, a bunch of followers, who were followed by their leader. It held them.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Max said. “99, Hassan—let’s go.”

  “Max . . . shouldn’t you tell them about the stampede?”

  “Oh . . . yes. Look, fellas,” Max said, “there’s something I think you ought to know. In a very few minutes, a pack of fear-stricken wild animals is going to come charging through here.”

  “Nice of you to mention it,” the leader smiled.

  “You’d better get out of here,” Max said.

  “No, thank you, we’ll stay.”

  “Fellas, I realize how dedicated you are,” Max said. “But isn’t this carrying dedication a bit too far?”

  “It isn’t that,” the leader said. “You see, the only way to escape is across that bridge.”

  “Yes . . . ?”

  “We’d rather face a stampede of fear-stricken wild animals than risk our lives on a bridge built by a drop-out from the Massachusetts College of Dentistry,” the leader explained. “We figure our chances for survival will be better.”

  Again, 99 tugged at Max’s sleeve. “Max . . . the stampede is getting closer!”

  “Coming, 99!”

  The three rushed onto the bridge, headed for the opposite bank of the river. But as they reached the center of the span they heard a splintering sound. An instant later the bridge collapsed, and they hurtled downward toward the river.

  “There’s a lesson in this, 99,” Max said. “Never cross a bridge that a bridge-builder won’t cross.”

  “In my country, we have a saying,” Hassan said. “When the cuckoo flies west, it’s time for Polly to put the kettle on.”

  “I don’t think I quite understand that, Hassan,” Max said.

  “Polly is a girl who lives out West,” Hassan explained.

  “Yes, I got that part of it. But the cuckoo?”

  “Oh. She cooks cuckoos in a kettle.”

  “Yes, I guessed that. But what I don’t get is the connection between Polly and cooked cuckoos and this bridge.”

  “Any dumb dame who would be nutty enough to think she could get a cuckoo to fly into a kettle of boiling water would also be crazy enough to cross a bridge that a bridge-builder wouldn’t cross.”

  “You see, 99,” Max said. “Sometimes at first these old sayings don’t seem to make sense. But if you examine them closely—”

  At that instant they landed on something solid.

  “The water’s a little hard in these parts,” Max complained.

  “Max! We landed on the back of a hippopotamus!” 99 cried. “And, look, he’s swimming upstream! We’re saved!”

  But the hippo immediately submerged. And Max, 99 and Hassan found themselves floundering in the water.

  “We have a saying
in our country,” Hassan groaned. “Never yell ‘We’re saved!’ when you’re riding on the back of a hippopotamus.”

  “Max! We’re being swept toward the falls!” 99 cried.

  “Lucky for us, 99! Because the crocodiles are bearing down on us from the other direction!”

  A moment later, Max, 99 and Hassan were swept over the waterfall. They jumped to their feet and ran toward the opposite shore, and reached dry land just in time. For the stampeding animals had arrived at the river and were swimming across.

  “Hassan, exactly how far is Provo, Utah, from here?” Max said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Hassan replied. “We’ll never make it.”

  “He’s right, Max!” 99 wailed. “All is lost!”

  “Hassan! 99! We can’t quit! Run!”

  They dived into the underbrush. Behind them, once more, they heard the thunder of hoofs.

  “Max! It’s too late!” 99 screamed. “We’ll be trampled—Max? Max, where are you?”

  “Look down, 99.”

  99 looked down. And saw Max looking up—from the bottom of a deep pit.

  “Max . . . isn’t that the pit we dug to trap Whitestone?”

  “Yes, 99, I think it is. But it probably isn’t essential right now that we definitely identify the pit. Suppose it turned out that this isn’t the same pit? We would still be faced with the same problem—namely, getting me out of here.”

  “Good thinking, Max. Here . . . I’ll reach you my hand. Hassan,” she called, “hold onto me.”

  99 reached a hand into the pit. Hassan held onto her.

  And Max pulled them both into the pit with him.

  “It didn’t work, Max,” 99 said.

  “I wouldn’t exactly say that, 99. It worked. It just didn’t work in the way we had planned.”

  “We have a saying in my country,” Hassan said. “Oi! What a development!”

  “Yes, it’s a pretty kettle of fish, all right,” Max said. “In a very few minutes, those wild animals are going to come charging through here, fall into this pit, and land right on top of us. Our pretty kettle of fish is going to be a pretty pit of lions, tigers, elephants, jackals, and hippopotamuseseses.”

  “Max, maybe there’s still time to escape,” 99 said. She made a cup of her hands. “I’ll give you a boost up—the way we did it last time.”