by Greg Trine
Had she known the Superhero’s Code, of course, she would have known better than to let her victories go to her head. A superhero always had to be on the alert. And Candace was too busy high-fiving herself at the moment to pay attention.
Big mistake.
Something sinister could sneak right up and bite her on the … uh … toe.
Candace got to the school office, but the secretary wasn’t there. The place was empty. There was also a strange smell in the air.
“Holy gas mask!” Candace said as her eyes began to water. “That’s nasty!”
Holy gas mask, indeed! It was nasty.
“Hello?” Candace said, pinching her nose.
No answer.
“Knock knock. Anyone home?”
Silence.
Candace walked into the principal’s office and there she saw it. Bologna. An extra-long bologna submarine sandwich, to be exact. The principal and the school secretary were lying on the floor, tied up and gagged.
Candace felt the strength drain from her body. She dropped to her knees, gasping, “Can’t … move … get … me … out … of … here.”
“Glad to oblige,” said a voice from behind her.
Candace turned to see Filthy and Grunge McNasty. So that’s what smelled so bad.
“Grab the bologna, Filthy,” Grunge said. “I’ll grab the girl.”
Grunge picked up Candace and threw her over his shoulder. With the bologna sandwich so close by, she was too weak to resist.
A minivan was idling in the school parking lot. Now, there’s one sinister-looking minivan, thought Candace as Grunge McNasty stuffed her inside.
“Where are you taking me?” she gasped.
“Where else? Our lair.”
“Don’t you mean hideout?”
“I mean lair. No minor bad guys in this story.”
That was funny. Candace seemed to remember flushing a few minor bad guys earlier in the day.
As the minivan sped through the city, she thought about all that had happened. How could a day that had started out so good turn out to be so rotten?
13
MEANWHILE …
While Candace Brinkwater was busy flushing heads and getting kidnapped, Melvin Beederman was busy trying to launch himself.
Crash!
Splat!
Thud!
Kabonk!
He’d heard a cry for help while watching The Adventures of Thunderman and had to leave right in the middle of the good part. Did Thunderman and his assistant, Thunder Thighs, get the bad guys in the end? Melvin wasn’t able to stick around to find out. After all, the code was the code. But he hoped Hugo, his pet rat and roommate, would fill him in on the details when he got home.
“Squeak squeak,” he had told him before he left. He thought this meant “Take good notes and fill me in when I get home.” But it might have meant, “Would you care for a slice of pie?” He was never really sure. Rat talk wasn’t exactly the same as gerbilspeak.
But now Melvin was up and flying, searching for the voice he had heard earlier.
“Help!” came the voice again.
Melvin zoomed between the tall buildings of downtown Los Angeles. Below him he saw 28 red SUVs and 63 white SUVs (minivans were a thing of the past in this town). “That’s 91 SUVs in all,” he said quickly.
If only Hugo was good at math, Melvin thought, home life would be perfect.
“Help!”
Melvin spotted a lady standing on a busy sidewalk. She pointed down the street. “There was a purse snatcher. He’s getting away.”
With his extra-keen eyesight, Melvin spotted the thief. He also spotted his underwear … which was spotted!
“Be right back,” he called to the lady, then zoomed ahead and dropped in front of the purse snatcher. “Not so fast!”
Melvin returned the purse to its owner.
“How can I ever thank you?” asked the lady, checking to see that her money was still there.
“Just doing my job, ma’am.”
Ah … the code. Melvin knew the code like the back of his kneecap.
He bowed. “Have a nice d—”
And that’s when he heard it.
“Can’t … move … get … me … out … of … here.”
Candace Brinkwater, his partner in uncrime, was in trouble!
Melvin knew he had to save the day.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but I have to save the day.” Melvin tried to launch himself right there in broad daylight, right in front of everyone. And …
He was up and flying on the first try! But he didn’t have time to pat himself on the back.
What have you gotten yourself into, Candace? he thought to himself as he zoomed to the rescue.
14
THOSE DEVIOUS MCNASTYS
It just so happened that the workers at the Acme Bologna Company were on strike. They were picketing in front of the Acme headquarters, where the slogan was Acme Bologna, We’re Not Too Shabby.
Not too shabby, indeed! Acme Bologna was terrific. And there was a lot of it. The company just treated its workers terribly.
Hence the strike.
This worked to the McNastys’ advantage. While the workers were striking in front of the building, no one was paying attention to the back entrance. So no one saw a sinister-looking minivan pull up. No one saw two sinister-looking men and two sinister-looking women get out, carrying a young girl in a cape.
“I love being devious,” Grunge McNasty said, kicking in the back door.
“What a coincidence,” said his brother, Filthy. “I love being sinister.”
“We must be related.”
They entered the big warehouse, where there was six thousand pounds of bologna.
“Wow!” said Grunge. “That looks like six thousand pounds of bologna. What do you have to say about that, Miss Brinkwater?”
“What do I have to say?” Candace said weakly.
“Yes.”
“Can’t … move … get … me … out … of … here.”
“No way.”
They tied up Candace in the room with the bologna.
“Just try and eat your way out of this one, Melvin Beederman,” Grunge McNasty said with an evil laugh.
And Candace knew he was right. There was no escape now. No one could eat six thousand pounds of bologna. Not even her pretzel-munching partner in uncrime.
“Who’s Melvin Beederman again?” Mudball McNasty asked.
“The guy we’re after. Our enemy.”
“Yes. Of course. Exactly.”
15
BEEDERMAN TO THE RESCUE
Melvin Beederman zoomed. He was an expert zoomer. Once he got off the ground he could zoom like nobody’s business.
Once he got off the ground.
And now, with Candace Brinkwater in trouble, there was no time to hover and flex at his reflection in the mirrored glass. But that didn’t stop Melvin from thinking about it as he flew between the tall buildings of the city. I’ll do it later, he told himself. And he made a mental note to do just that.
It was a rotten shame to see his reflection and not get to flex.
Melvin flew and listened for Candace’s cry for help. Then he heard it.
“Can’t … move … get … me … out … of … here.”
Candace was growing weaker by the minute, the six thousand pounds of bologna taking every last bit of strength she had.
Melvin knew she was growing weaker. He also knew why. Bologna!
And from the sound of her voice, it had to be a lot of bologna. Not just a sandwich full—something more.
“Holy overeating! That’s got to be a ton of bologna,” he said.
Holy overeating, indeed! It was three tons to be exact.
But where was Candace?
He zigzagged between the tall buildings. He shot out toward the beach and over the hills into the Valley. He listened. But there were no more cries for help.
Then he smelled it. Something awful, something horrible, so
mething … nasty. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the McNastys were on the loose again.
Melvin sped up and followed his nose. The smell got worse. And worse. His eyes began to water.
Below him he spotted some people walking back and forth in front of a building, carrying signs—DOWN WITH ACME BOLOGNA and BOYCOTT ACME BOLOGNA and ACME BOLOGNA STINKS!
Melvin sniffed. Well, something stinks, he thought. But he was pretty sure it wasn’t bologna. Now, as he hovered over the Acme Bologna Company headquarters, he could do nothing but trust his nose.
Something nasty was afoot. And that nasty something had to be the brothers themselves. The McNasty Brothers, those notorious bank robbers and all-around bad guys.
Melvin didn’t know about the McNasty Sisters or about the prison break. He only knew what his nose was telling him. And he trusted it.
After all, nose power was second only to noggin power.
Then, very faintly, he heard it again. “Can’t … move … get … me … out … of … here.”
“Well, bless my nose!” Melvin said out loud. “You’re the best nose a guy ever had.”
Candace Brinkwater was inside the building. Melvin knew that. He also knew it had to be the McNasty Brothers behind it all.
It was way too crowded in front of the building, so Melvin zipped around to the back entrance. He was going to kick in the door, but discovered it had already been done, which of course took some of the fun out of the rescue. Though it wasn’t part of the code, superheroes often kicked in doors, and they hardly ever repaired the damage when they were finished.
Melvin put this thought aside. He’d find another door to kick in later. Right now Candace Brinkwater, his partner in uncrime, needed him.
He swung open the door that had already been kicked in. Instantly his head began to swim. His legs went wobbly and he dropped to his knees. “Can’t … move … get … me … out … of … here,” he gasped.
16
SIX THOUSAND POUNDS OF BOLOGNA
Melvin Beederman was defenseless against the McNasty Brothers. But who were these others with them? They smelled as bad. They looked as ugly. They had either a sinister or a devious look on their faces. Were they related?
Grunge McNasty spoke up in answer to Melvin’s unspoken question. “These are my sisters, Mudball and Puke McNasty. Perhaps you have heard of them—notorious jewel thieves and all-around bad girls? Anyway, I thought I’d make the introductions … before you DIE.”
Melvin pinched his nose and said in a high-pitched voice, “Nice to meet you.”
Filthy McNasty tied Melvin to the same post that Candace was tied to.
“Don’t worry,” Melvin whispered to her over his shoulder.
“You have a plan?”
“Not really.”
“What kind of noggin power is that?”
“Be patient, Candace. I’m waiting for it to kick in.”
“Stop that whispering,” Grunge snarled. “Let me explain how this will work. Last time you escaped because you ate your way to freedom. That’s not going to happen this time. Look around you.” He gestured at the piles of lunch meat. “Six thousand pounds of bologna, ladies and gentlemen.”
Mudball McNasty scanned the room. She didn’t see a lady or a gentleman anywhere.
“I meant you guys,” Grunge said.
“Yes. Of course. Exactly.”
“As I was saying,” Grunge continued, “there’s no way out this time, Mister Melvin Beederman and Miss Candace Brinkwater. No one can eat six thousand pounds of bologna. No one. Not even a superhero.”
Grunge held up a weird contraption made out of wires and what looked like a clock. “I’ve set the timer for three hours. Time enough for us to make our getaway and for the striking workers to head home. There’ll be nobody left when the explosion happens. Six thousand pounds of bologna will go bye-bye. And so will you two.”
Melvin sat with his head down. He knew Grunge was right. This time there was no way out.
17
MISSION IMPOSSIBLE
All afternoon Melvin Beederman and Candace Brinkwater struggled with the ropes that tied them to the post. All afternoon they grew weaker from the six thousand pounds of bologna. And all afternoon they heard the ticking of the time bomb, getting closer and closer to blowing up.
The McNasty Brothers and Sisters had long since made their getaway. The striking workers had gone home.
“Noggin power kicking in yet?” Candace asked, tugging at the ropes.
“Still thinking,” Melvin replied.
He felt himself growing weaker by the minute, but fortunately bologna only affected his body. His brain was free to work.
“Work, brain, work,” Melvin said out loud.
“Yes, work, Melvin’s brain, work,” Candace agreed.
Melvin thought through the Superhero’s Code. What did it say about times like this?
Nothing, that’s what.
The only part that might apply was “Your brain is your greatest weapon.”
Only right now Melvin’s brain didn’t seem to be a weapon at all.
Tick tick tick.
They were running out of time.
Tick tick tick.
It was now or never.
All at once they heard a small noise in the corner of the room. Maybe they weren’t as alone as they had thought!
“Hello?” Melvin called.
“Who’s there?” Candace added.
The sound came again—a faint rustling—then tiny footsteps.
“Who’s there?” Candace asked again.
The tiny footsteps stopped, then, “Squeak squeak.”
“It’s a rat!” Melvin said.
“Quick. Adopt it!”
“I already have a rat,” Melvin said.
“Not for you. For me.”
“No time for that. We need to get out of here.” But Melvin suddenly found himself thinking of his rat Hugo. It was nice to have a roommate. Someone to watch The Adventures of Thunderman with. Someone to drink root beer with. Someone to eat pret—
He had an idea. “Can you reach my back pocket, Candace?” They were tied to the post back-to-back.
“I think so. What am I looking for?”
“Pretzels. I keep snacks with me at all times.”
Candace carefully reached into Melvin’s pocket. “Got it,” she said.
“Great!” Melvin turned to the rat and said, “Squeakity squeak.”
The rat did nothing. Not even a twitch of its whiskers.
“Get those eyebrows going, Melvin,” Candace suggested.
Melvin tried again, this time using his eyebrows. “Squeakity squeak squeak.”
“What are you telling him?”
“I either said, ‘How would you like a pretzel, big guy?’ or, ‘Do you know the way to San Jose?’”
The rat didn’t move. Then a whisker twitched. “Squeak?”
“Squeakity squeak squeak?” Melvin said again. His eyebrows were going like crazy.
“You’ve got that eyebrow thing down,” Candace said admiringly.
“Shhh. I think it’s working. Throw him the pretzel.”
Candace threw it as best she could with her hands tied.
The rat came forward and ate it quickly. “Squeak?”
“It wants more,” Candace said.
“First things first.” Melvin wiggled his eyebrows. “Squeak.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, ‘Chew through these ropes and we’ll give you another pretzel.’ At least I think that’s what I said. Unless it was ‘Do you know a truck driver named Fred?’”
The rat slowly came closer.
“No more treats until these ropes are off,” Melvin said.
“Right.”
The rat sniffed the ropes, then began to chew. Soon the two superheroes were free. Melvin dropped a few pretzels on the ground and squeaked a thank-you.
The rat didn’t seem to care that his rescue efforts were appreciated. He was
too busy eating.
The superheroes were free. But there was still the problem of the bologna. They had no strength. They wouldn’t be able to open the door even if they could reach it.
Tick tick tick.
“We don’t have much time,” Melvin said.
Tick tick tick.
They sure didn’t.
18
BOLOGNA PROBLEMS
“How do you feel?” Melvin asked his assistant.
“Can’t … move … get … me … out … of … here. That pretty much sums it up.”
Melvin looked around the warehouse. He saw huge containers of bologna and not much else.
Then he spotted something.
“Candace, when does kryptonite not affect Superman?” Melvin asked.
“Is this Twenty Questions? Because I’d much rather escape. Hear that ticking, Melvin? That’s a bomb about to go off.”
“Just answer the question.”
“Okay, but then we need to get out of here or there won’t be any more books in this series. Here’s your answer: When kryptonite is enclosed in lead it doesn’t affect Superman.”
“Exactly,” Melvin said. “Look over there, Candace.” He pointed to a box a few feet away. “Look what’s written on the box.”
“Sandwich wrap?”
“Exactly. If we could somehow wrap ourselves in sandwich wrap, maybe it would protect us from the bologna. And we’d get our strength back.”
“Melvin Beederman, your noggin power just showed up!”
Melvin nodded and crawled slowly toward the box of sandwich wrap. It took all his strength to get there. He opened the box and began wrapping himself in the stuff.
Now, shielded from the bologna, he stood up.
“Holy ridiculous-looking superhero!” Candace said.
Holy ridiculous-looking superhero, indeed! Melvin did look pretty silly covered in sandwich wrap. But now he had his strength back. He walked over and wrapped Candace, too. She stood up.
“Do you know how to deactivate that bomb?” Melvin asked.