Billy Hooten

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  Balthasar dropped to his knees, eyes wild, eagerly grabbing up all the pieces of fallen candy and jamming them into his mouth as quickly as he could.

  “I hate you,” he was saying over and over again as his mouth became full and the words harder to understand. “I ate ugh ull!”

  In all the drama, they still hadn't noticed the symbol shining on the machine behind them.

  “They don't see it,” Billy said to Archebold.

  “Wiggle it a little,” the goblin suggested.

  “Like this?” Billy asked, moving the light beam around.

  The monkey demons had all turned their anger on Balthasar, attempting to get their brother to spit out all the wrapped gum and candy he had shoveled into his mouth.

  “He's eaten it all!” Benny wailed.

  “Tainted! All of our delicious, sugary treasures have been tainted!” Bernie added.

  Bobby pounced on his gluttonous brother, trying to pry his mouth open. “Grab his arms and legs. There's a chance we can still save some of it!”

  Balthasar fought back fitfully as his brothers wrestled him to the floor.

  It was Bailey Bounder who finally noticed, his attention suddenly drawn to the symbol dancing upon one of the factory's adhesive-storage tanks.

  “Gotcha!” Archebold whispered excitedly, and Billy smiled. This was it! The chance to strike fear into the hearts of evildoers and let them know that Monstros had a new protector.

  “What the heck is that?” Bailey asked, pointing to the black symbol within the circle of yellow that was illuminated upon the gray metal tank.

  The Bounders stopped, releasing their brother. They all stared at the symbol.

  “Looks like a moth,” Benny said, tilting his head to one side to study the shape. “Yeah, that's a moth.”

  Bobby bounced a little closer to the tank. “That ain't a moth—that's a shark.”

  This wasn't going as expected. Billy glanced over at Archebold, whose face was buried in his hands as he shook his head in disgust.

  “They're idiots,” the goblin muttered. “Anyone with an ounce of brains could see what it is.”

  “Maybe we should just tell them what it is,” Billy suggested.

  “No,” Archebold said firmly. “They'll figure it out eventually.”

  “How is that a shark?” Bernie asked. “Just looks like a black blot to me.”

  “No, it's a shark,” Bobby said emphatically. “See … there's the dorsal fin.”

  Bailey Bounder had twisted himself in such a way that he was looking at it upside down. “If you look at it like this, it looks like some kind of pastry—perhaps an apple strudel.”

  With the mention of the sweet dessert, they all eagerly rubbed their hands together and licked their chops.

  “What I wouldn't give for some apple strudel,” Bobby said, wiping a thick dribble of spit from his chin.

  “With a big mug of hot chocolate,” Bernie contributed.

  Growing impatient, Billy looked over at Archebold again. “I don't think these guys are ever going to figure this out,” he announced.

  Archebold nodded, and then his eyes suddenly got a wild look in them as he pointed back down to the factory floor. “Wait, this could be the break we're looking for.”

  Billy looked.

  Balthasar was crawling across the floor, his eyes riveted to the illuminated spot.

  “I know what it is,” he said, wrapped pieces of spit-covered candy tumbling from his mouth as he spoke. “It's not a moth, or a shark, or even an apple strudel.”

  “What is it, brother?” Bernie asked.

  Archebold reached out, slapping Billy on the arm. “Get ready. This is it.”

  Balthasar was practically on top of it, moving his head from side to side. “Yes, I do believe it to be so.”

  “Yes, Balthasar?” all the Bounders asked, anxiously awaiting their brother's observation.

  “It's a chicken,” he announced. “See?” The demon monkey pointed out some of the details to his brothers. “There's the little beak, there's the crest, and I think she's laying an egg.”

  Billy couldn't stand it anymore. He turned off the flashlight.

  The Bounder boys gasped.

  “Where'd the chicken go?” Benny asked.

  “It's not a chicken, you dopes,” Billy yelled down from the catwalk.

  The Bounders all turned in the direction of his voice.

  “It's an owl symbol,” he said. “An owl—get it?”

  He put his hands on his hips, making sure they got a good look at the costume.

  The Bounders stared wide-eyed, their mouths agape. Billy was given a really good look at how disgusting their teeth were. They really are Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons, he observed. Those choppers have probably never seen a toothbrush or floss.

  “Wait a minute,” Bailey Bounder said, rubbing his furry chin, obviously deep in thought. “Then you must be …”

  “Chickenboy?” Balthasar suggested.

  Bailey turned to slap the top of his brother's head. “It's an owl, not a chicken. Weren't you listening?”

  Benny picked up where Bailey had left off. “If it's an owl, that would mean that you're …”

  “Owlboy,” they all said at the same time.

  Billy stuck out his chest proudly. “Exactly,” he said, striking a heroic pose.

  “Excellent,” Bailey said, a nasty smile forming on his horrible monkey face. “It's always good to know who you're about to destroy. It's much more personal that way.”

  And the monkey demons sprang into action.

  “Get 'em, boys!”

  It took everything Billy had and then some not to scream and run like a baby.

  But he held his ground, Archebold bravely at his side, the fight scenes from all the Owlboy comics he had read over the last week playing in his head. The great hero of Monstros City always vanquished his enemies with an efficient combination of superior intelligence and strength.

  Bailey Bounder was the first to land upon the catwalk.

  “So, you're Owlboy, eh?” he asked with a nasty sneer. “A little short, don't you think?”

  The other Bounders touched down behind their brother, one after the other, and slowly began to stalk toward them.

  Billy and Archebold began to back away.

  “So, what do you suggest?” Billy asked, not wanting to take his eyes from the advancing monkey demons.

  “The usual, I guess,” the goblin said. “Vanquish the villains, turn them in to the authorities, head back to the Roost for some congratulatory snacks.”

  “Sounds good, but here's the question,” Billy said as the monkey demons came closer. “How do we vanquish the villains?”

  “Hey, you're the one in the Owlboy costume,” Archebold said. “I can't be expected to think of everything.”

  “Why did I know you were going to give me an answer like that?” Billy asked, deciding that he needed to do something, and fast.

  But what?

  He remembered a rope and grappling hook among the items Halifax had given him for his utility belt and thought those might be a good place to start. He quickly went through the pockets, still backing away from the stalking demons, until he found what he was looking for.

  “Got any candy in them pouches?” Bobby Bounder asked as he wiped a trickle of spit from the corner of his mouth.

  Ignoring him, Billy quickly pulled the long rope with the metal hook attached from inside the pouch on his belt, took aim and started to swing the rope around his head.

  “Hold on,” he said to Archebold as he let the line go, watching the weighted end sail through the air to hook onto a pipe that ran across the ceiling.

  “I hope you know what you're doing,” Archebold said, wrapping his tiny arms around Billy's waist.

  “You and me both!” Billy added, leaping into the air.

  Though terrified, Billy felt incredibly excited as he sailed through the air above the factory floor, unsure of what exactly was going to happen nex
t.

  “Where are we going?” Archebold asked, hanging on to Billy's waist for dear life.

  “I haven't thought that far ahead yet,” Billy answered, continuing to soar across the wide expanse. And then their swing came to an end, and they sailed back to the other side. “But I am open to suggestions.”

  The Bounders stood waiting on the catwalk, eagerly stretching out their long monkey arms, ready to catch Billy and Archebold as they swung back within reach.

  “How about those boxes?” Archebold suggested, and Billy looked down to see a stack of cardboard boxes piled in a large recycling bin not too far below them.

  They really didn't have much of a choice: either wind up in the clutches of the Bounder boys, dangle from the rope until Billy's arms got so tired that he couldn't hold on anymore, or swing over the boxes and try to make as soft a landing as possible. Billy glanced in the direction of the Bounders again and saw a grinning Bailey waiting, arms outstretched.

  “Come to Poppa,” the monkey demon snarled.

  “In your dreams, creepazoid!” Billy yelled, thrusting out his legs to give them a bit more momentum.

  And then he let go of the rope. He and Archebold fell toward the pile of boxes, hoping that they were filled with something soft, like pillows or maybe even packing peanuts. They hit the boxes and lay there for a moment, stunned by the impact but seemingly in one piece.

  “You all right?” Billy asked Archebold as he scrambled to stand.

  “Remind me again why I wanted to be Owlboy's sidekick so bad?” the goblin complained as Billy pulled him onto his feet.

  “Didn't it have something to do with family tradition?”

  “Possibly,” Archebold said, brushing dirt from his coat. “But did I mention that insanity runs in my family? In fact, it gallops.”

  “Well, let's gallop out of here together before those Slovakian Rot-tooths crush us into pancakes.”

  Billy grabbed his goblin pal by the arm, pulling him across the factory floor.

  The Bounders dropped down from the catwalk. The sound of the coils on their feet hitting the concrete floor made Billy and Archebold run faster.

  “Don't run away, little Owlboy!” one of the Bounders called. “All we want to do is play with you.”

  “And then squash you flat,” said another, and they all began to cackle maniacally.

  “Maybe we should've started you off with something smaller,” Archebold said as they ran through a doorway into a larger room filled with four big containers.

  This must be where all the chemicals were mixed together to make the adhesive, Billy thought as he took in his surroundings. The final product must have been stored inside those gigantic tanks.

  Billy heard the sproing! sproing! sproing! of the Bounder boots as the monkey demons chased after them. If he hadn't been running for his life, he would've been wicked bummed out. Not only was he letting Archebold down, he was letting the city of Monstros down as well.

  Those old negative feelings were back with a vengeance, and Billy wondered why he'd ever believed he could actually be a super anything, never mind a hero.

  Archebold was breathing pretty heavily and had started to slow down a bit. Figuring that the little guy could use a break—and that he himself could use a minute to gather his wits—Billy grabbed the goblin by his collar, yanking him down a dark passageway that ran between two of the huge storage tanks.

  “I'm sorry about this, Archebold,” Billy said as they hid in the shadows of the containers.

  “Don't worry about it, kid,” the goblin replied, dropping down to lean back against the storage tank. “I probably shouldn't have pushed you so hard … but you were doing so darn good.”

  Billy felt very inadequate standing there in his Owlboy suit. He was almost ashamed to be wearing it.

  “Don't look so sad,” Archebold said, attempting to cheer him up. “The Bounder boys are bad news. It was stupid of me to think even you could've stopped them.”

  And at that moment, Billy pretty much figured that his career as a superhero had come to a crashing end. He'd failed on his first real mission, and once word got out that the Bounders had kicked his costumed butt, he doubted that the citizens of Monstros would want anything to do with him as Owlboy.

  “I guess I'm just not as good as you thought I was,” Billy said, his confidence leaking away. He hung his head, feeling the most depressed he'd felt since his dad accidentally sprayed the garden hose over his issue of The Snake: King-Size Summer Special Number One.

  But at least he'd been able to get a new copy of the ultrarare comic. This was an altogether different situation. Nobody could make him a hero; this was something he had to do himself.

  And he had screwed it up big-time.

  Archebold didn't say a word, only reinforcing how disappointed he must be.

  Billy wanted to crawl underneath a rock and hide.

  The Bounders were close, the bouncing of their coiled-spring shoes on the factory floor momentarily distracting Billy and Archebold from their disappointment.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are, puny Owlboy,” Bailey Bounder called as his brothers jeered in the background. “We'll try not to make your stomping hurt too bad.”

  Archebold looked at Billy, his goblin eyes wide and glistening in the shadows. “We'd better get you out of here before you get hurt,” he said, and started to stand—but for some reason he couldn't.

  “What the …,” the goblin sputtered. “Great! I think I'm stuck.”

  “Stuck to what?” Billy asked, unable to see much in the darkness around them.

  Archebold continued to struggle as Billy pulled the tiny flashlight from his utility belt and shone it down upon the ground. The tank of adhesive was leaking, and Archebold was stuck to the puddle of glue that had collected on the floor.

  “You're stuck, all right,” Billy agreed. He shone his light on the tank, finding the riveted seam in the metal where the sticky stuff had seeped out. “The tank's leaking,” he told his friend. “Give me your hand and I'll try to pull you free.”

  Billy put his light away and took the goblin's arms. “On a count of three. One … two … three!”

  Prepared to use his Monstros City superstrength, Billy tugged with all his might, and Archebold came free with a loud ripping sound.

  “What the … ?” Archebold said, looking over his shoulder. The butt of his tuxedo pants had been torn away, the material still stuck to the glue on the ground.

  Billy was surprised to see that the goblin was wearing pink boxer shorts with great big red hearts on them. He would've bet good money on Archebold's being a tighty-whitey sort of guy.

  “I'm really sorry, Archebold,” Billy said. “I didn't think the glue was that sticky, and …”

  Suddenly, it hit him with the force of a phaser on stun: an idea that could very well change everything.

  “Hey, Billy,” Archebold said to him. “What's wrong, kid? Snap out of it. They're only pants. I've got at least six pairs back at the Roost, no need to go into shock or anything.”

  “I have a plan,” Billy said simply, a sly smile that he couldn't control creeping across his face. “I know how we can defeat the Bounders.”

  “You do?” Archebold asked, self-consciously covering his exposed rear end with his hands.

  Billy nodded, seeing the master plan unfold inside his head.

  “I'm gonna need a big bucket.”

  Billy watched as Archebold strolled out into the middle of the factory floor, whistling a casual tune as if he didn't have a care in the world—other than the fact that he had a pack of Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demons after him—and that he wasn't wearing any pants.

  They'd found a bucket in a janitor's closet not too far from where they had been resting, and Billy had immediately put his plan into motion.

  The Bounders were somewhere inside the large room, probably lying in wait for Billy and the goblin. Billy hated to hold the poor guys up any longer than he had to.

&nb
sp; “Yoo-hoo, Bounder boys!” Archebold called in a high-pitched voice that made him sound like Billy's aunt Mildred. “Here I am, all alone and helpless.”

  Billy stuck his head around the corner to see if the monkey demons would take the bait.

  His plan involved glue from the storage tank. Using his enhanced strength, he had managed to pull at the already loose seam of the tank, making the leak even bigger. He then filled the bucket they had found with the supersticky substance.

  Archebold was doing some kind of crazy dance now, wiggling his butt in its heart-printed underwear in all directions as he attempted to draw the Bounders out from hiding. He was the perfect lure; how could anybody—especially a Slovakian Rot-toothed Hopping Monkey Demon wearing bounding boots—not want to crush him into paste?

  “C'mon, boys,” Archebold called. “I'm getting kind of bored here. I thought you guys were supposed to be scary. Yeah, you're scary, all right. You're so scary I'm about to take my behind out of here and head on home to bed, that's how scary you are.”

  The goblin looked over at Billy and shrugged. “I don't know where they are,” he whispered. “Maybe they suspect it's a trap.”

  “You've got to get them really mad,” Billy suggested. “Maybe say something nasty about their teeth … or even better, their mother.”

  As far as Billy was concerned, there was nothing worse than insulting somebody's mother, and he guessed the creatures would likely have the same feeling here in Monstros City.

  “Breaking out the heavy artillery, eh?” Archebold commented. “I like the way you think, boss. I've got just the right thing. Heard a heckleberry pie say this once, and I've been saving it up for a special occasion.”

  The goblin turned his attention back to the broad expanse of the room, his eyes darting around, searching for any signs of the nasty monkeys. They remained hidden.

  “Hey, Bounders,” Archebold called. “Got a question for you guys. Is it true that your mother was so fat that she donated a hundred pounds to charity?”

  Billy gasped from his hiding place. Good one, Archebold, he thought. That one would have surely sent any sixth grader at Connery Elementary School into fits of rage.

  But the goblin wasn't stopping there.