Hamstersaurus Rex Gets Crushed

by Tom O'Donnell

  “Guess Hammie got the looks, huh?” I yelled back.

  The Mind Mole continued unfazed: “Both of us rodents; both human-made freaks of nature. Yet the more I studied him, the more I realized our lives couldn’t have turned out more differently. I was kept by scientists in darkness and solitude, while he was cheered on by smiling schoolchildren. His mutation inspires adoration, whereas mine inspires only hatred and contempt. I am despised and he is loved. How is this fair?”

  “You act like a creep. You use people like puppets. Oh, and your little cape looks stupid!” I yelled back. “Maybe that’s why you’re not exactly Mr. Popularity?”

  “Hamstersaurus Rex is only special, only interesting, only a hero, because he’s half dinosaur. Take away the ‘-saurus Rex’ and he’s nothing. Less than nothing! No one will care.”

  “Hmm. It sounds like you’re kind of obsessed with him,” I called back.

  “AM NOT!” screeched Renfro. I’d finally gotten under the Mind Mole’s skin.

  “That’s why you took all those creepy stalker photos,” I said. “That’s why you had superhero comics and How to Not Be Unlikable in your weird little hidey-hole. You’re crazy jealous of Hammie Rex! Sounds pretty unhealthy, if you ask me.”

  “SILENCE!” cried Renfro. “WE HOLD CARTIMANDUA’S LIFE IN OUR VERY CLAWS! YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO DECIDE! TEN . . .”

  The Mind Mole put his paw on the power switch. I didn’t have long to weigh my options.

  I held down the Talk button of the walkie-talkie. “Dylan, help!” I said. “The Mind Mole wants to take Hamstersaurus Rex’s powers away! What should I do?” I listened. Nothing. Just static.

  Renfro continued counting. “Nine . . . eight . . . seven . . .”

  I peeked over the lip of the crater again. Cartimandua was about thirty feet away. There was no way I could make it to her before the Mind Mole could flick that switch and Gomer’s mallet came down. Even Hammie Rex couldn’t cover the distance that fast.

  “Six . . . five . . . four . . .”

  “Okay, okay!” I cried. “It’s up to him, though. It’s Hammie’s choice whether or not he drinks your stupid formula.”

  I turned to look at Hamstersaurus Rex. He stared back at me.

  “Look, dude, I don’t know if you can understand me or not, but that jerk of a mole wants you to drink that nasty purple ooze and give up your dinosaur powers,” I said. “Unless we do something, Cartimandua has about three seconds to live. It’s up to you, I guess. I can’t tell you what to do.”

  Hammie Rex licked his lips. He seemed to be mulling it over. With a grunt, the little guy scrambled over the lip of the volcano and down into the crater. He’d made his choice.

  Hamstersaurus Rex stood at Gordon Renfro’s feet and opened his dino-jaws wide. The Mind Mole rubbed his paws together with glee.

  “Down the hatch, dear brother,” said Gordon Renfro, and he poured the entire potion down Hamstersaurus Rex’s throat.

  For an instant, nothing happened. I allowed myself a glimmer of hope. Maybe it wouldn’t work? Maybe the Mind Mole had somehow messed up the formula?

  But he hadn’t.

  Hamstersaurus Rex twitched. Then he twitched again. Then he crumpled to the ground, foaming at the mouth and convulsing. He was dying!

  The Mind Mole hopped up and down on his throne now, unable to contain his excitement.

  “What have you done to him?” I cried, leaping over the lip of the volcano and running toward Hammie Rex. “You killed my best friend!”

  “No,” said Renfro, “it is a fate far worse than death. He will be ordinary!”

  I reached Hammie’s side. Sure enough, his spiky tail and fangs were gone now. His belly had no more scales. He was a normal hamster, like the kind you might buy in any pet shop. I cradled him in my hands.

  “Come on. Please be okay,” I whispered. “Please be okay, little guy.”

  Hamstersaurus Rex suddenly awakened. He looked around and gave a frightened squeak. Then he sprang out of my hands and scurried away in terror.

  “Hammie, wait!” I cried.

  But he’d already disappeared between two fake rocks.

  The Mind Mole giggled through Gordon Renfro. “Do you see? Without his powers, he isn’t brave. He isn’t noble. He isn’t anything. Just a frightened little rodent! No one will love him now. I may not have killed him, but truly Hamstersaurus Rex is dead,” said Renfro. “Mmmm, victory tastes sweeter than the tenderest termite larva.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. “He did it to help an innocent hamster!”

  “Ah, yes. Thank you for reminding us,” said Renfro. “Now that we have won decisively, we suppose we don’t need Cartimandua anymore, do we?” The Mind Mole moved his claw toward the power switch.

  “What?!” I cried. “But you promised you’d let her go!”

  “We lied, of course,” cackled Renfro. “Your gullibility is boundless. Perhaps there is a lesson in all this for you?”

  The Mind Mole flicked the switch. There was a pop, followed by a blinding flash of light. I covered my eyes. But when I opened them, the mallet hadn’t moved. Cartimandua, now awake, blinked serenely.

  “What happened?” cried Renfro.

  I turned and saw Hamstersaurus Rex lying on the ground, unconscious. My breath caught in my lungs. His limp body was next to the cord that connected the power switch to the Country Gopher Family Jamboree. Smoke curled upward from a spot where he’d gnawed clean through it.

  “No!” cried Renfro as the Mind Mole frantically flipped the switch off and on. “No, no, no, no, no!” It still didn’t work. Hamstersaurus Rex, a regular hamster, had saved Cartimandua’s life.

  “See?” I said. “It’s not being half dinosaur that makes him special at all. He’s a hero because of the choices he makes.”

  “SILENCE!” cried Renfro. The Mind Mole looked utterly gobsmacked.

  “You want to be like him?” I said. “Maybe try helping people instead of hurting them.”

  “WE WILL NOT LISTEN TO ANY MORE OF THIS DRIVEL!” cried Renfro. “NO MORE! WE COMMAND YOU!”

  The Mind Mole stared into my eyes. I didn’t look away. They gleamed with malevolent intensity . . . those eyes . . .

  Those eyes had no effect on me. I whipped out a pillowcase and lunged for the Mind Mole.

  You see, while hiding behind the trash can, I’d realized that Old Man Ohlman wasn’t immune to Mind Mole’s mind control at all. The only difference between him and anybody else was that weird tinfoil hat of his—the hat was what blocked the Mind Mole’s power! So I decided to line the inside of my ninja mask with old RaddSpudd wrappers from the trash. Was it greasy? Sure. Was my scalp going to smell weird for days, perhaps months? Obviously. But those foil wrappers had saved me!

  I yanked the pillowcase down over the Mind Mole and tied it closed. From inside, the Mind Mole thrashed and squeaked in disbelief.

  “How?” cried Gordon Renfro, dumbfounded. “None can resist us!”

  I felt a tremor. All around me, objects started to tear themselves free of the ground—plaster rocks, life preservers, the strips of fake turf that lined the mini-golf course—and swirl up into the air. In his panic, the Mind Mole was now unleashing the full power of his telekinesis. It was terrifying!

  But his power was wild and unfocused. A conch shell shattered on the ground beside me. A beaker from Renfro’s makeshift lab sailed past my face and exploded against the rim of the volcano.

  “Unhand us!” cried Gordon Renfro as he charged at me through the swirling storm of debris.

  “Not without Cartimandua!” I said, and broke in her direction. But I froze as the Muscle Meter mallet ripped itself from animatronic Gomer Gopher’s claws and spun through the air right at my head. Somehow I managed to dive out of the way. The mallet missed me by a couple of inches.

  “You cannot hope to prevail,” cried Gordon Renfro. “We are the—”

  KATHUNK! The flying mallet caught Gordon Renfro right in the face. It sent him tumbling over the edge
of the volcano and down its slope.

  Random objects shattered and burst and tore themselves to bits around me. Still clutching the pillowcase holding the weakly thrashing Mind Mole—he was physically pathetic—I crawled toward Cartimandua.

  “Sorry I got you mixed up in all of this,” I said as I untied her.

  She seemed utterly unfazed by everything that had happened. Kind of bored, actually. Good for her, I guess. I tucked her into my shirt pocket and scrambled back to Hammie Rex. The little guy was hurt bad. I didn’t have time to check his vitals. So I blinked back my tears, scooped him up, and tucked him delicately in my other pocket.

  BOOM! A heavy plaster porpoise smashed to pieces right next to me. The ground shook, like the whole fake volcano might actually collapse. There was no way I was climbing back down the maintenance ladder while Mount Putta-Putta practically ripped itself apart. I jumped to my feet and started to run down the mountain, dodging flying projectiles all the way.

  I rounded the corner of the seventh hole to see a huge figure blocking my path. My heart sank. It was Big Virgil Gopher.

  “You resisted our mind control. A triflingly clever ploy, we’ll grant you that,” said Big Virgil in a creaky Mind Mole voice. “But we shall not be captured. Oh no, we are far too intelligent for that.”

  Big Virgil snatched the bag from me and shoved me to the ground.

  “BEHOLD! THE MIND MOLE ESCAPES!” he cackled. Then Big Virgil turned and started to flee down the mountain. The Mind Mole was getting away, and there was nothing I could do about it!

  “Not so fast!” cried someone farther down the slope.

  It was Dylan! She tossed something like a grenade right into Big Virgil’s path. It wasn’t a grenade, though. It was an open sour cream packet.

  Big Virgil’s foot hit the packet and shot out from under him. He did a complete flip and landed flat on his back. The Mind Mole’s pillowcase went sailing through the air and smacked against a fake palm tree with a dull thud.

  Instantly all the floating objects fell to the ground. A good bump to his soft, swollen head and the Mind Mole had been knocked out cold.

  “Thanks, Dylan!” I cried, giving her a massive hug.

  “Sorry it took me so long,” said Dylan. “Broken ankle, of course. Also I had to make a little detour along the way.”

  “Hamstersaurus Rex is hurt,” I said. “He gnawed through an electrical wire to save Cartimandua’s life.”

  I took the little guy out of my pocket and laid him in the cool, fake grass. He looked bad. There were scorch marks around his mouth and he wasn’t moving at all. I listened but I heard no breathing.

  “I think . . . he’s gone,” I said. I no longer held back my tears.

  “Sam, there’s no way a normal hamster could survive that,” said Dylan. “I know there’s no PaleoGro left, but . . . maybe these could work?”

  Dylan unzipped her backpack to reveal several brightly colored containers. It took me a moment to realize what they were: Dinoblast Powerpacker.

  “That’s why I was late,” said Dylan. “Had to hobble next door to Harry’s Health Food Hut to buy these.” She tossed me a container of Powerpacker.

  I popped the lid off and dipped the tip of my pinkie finger into the powder. Then I held it to Hamstersaurus Rex’s mouth. Nothing.

  “Come on, Hammie,” I whispered. “Come on . . . Come on . . .”

  The little guy’s pink tongue flicked out and slurped the powder off my finger. I dipped it back into the container. He licked at it again. I gave him more, and more. Soon I was practically shoveling the stuff into his mouth by the handful. His little paws begin to change. A scaly tail started to sprout. . . .

  CHAPTER 25

  A MIGHTY ROAR RANG out through all of RaddZone: Hamstersaurus Rex was back! I hugged the little guy close. Even Cartimandua seemed impressed.

  “Nice hamsters, bro,” said Big Virgil as he pulled his mask off. I now recognized him as the big, pimply-faced teen who worked the prize counter. “Couple questions: What’s going on here? What’s in that pillowcase? Why does my ankle hurt? And who’s that guy?”

  “Long story; the Mind Mole; you slipped on sour cream,” said Dylan. “And that guy is—”

  “Gordon Renfro!” I cried.

  Gordon Renfro crept forward, rubbing a bump on his head the size of a RaddSpudd. He was now free of the Mind Mole’s control, too. He saw us staring at him.

  “What are you brats gawping at?” cried Gordon Renfro as he snatched the pillowcase that held the unconscious Mind Mole inside. “This telepathic mole is the intellectual property of SmilesCorp! In fact, so is that mutant dino-hamster! I’ll sue you! I’ll sue all of you!”

  He started toward Hamstersaurus Rex. Hammie snarled dangerously.

  “Oh man, that was perfect,” said Serena. She was pointing my UltraLite SmartShot right at him. Beefer and Martha stood behind her, arms crossed. “You literally said the name of the company and everything.”

  Gordon Renfro cocked his head. “Aren’t you the little girl who hangs around and organizes our office supplies on alternate Wednesdays?”

  “Nope,” said Serena. “I’m an investigative journalist. And you just gave me the scoop of a lifetime.”

  “She’s going to start a blog someday!” said Beefer.

  “By the way, I found your camera, Sam,” said Serena.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Give me that tape,” snapped Gordon Renfro.

  “First of all, it’s digital,” I said. “Second, what are you going to do, beat up a twelve-year-old girl?”

  “Please do!” said Serena, still filming. “That would make this story even awesomer.”

  Gordon Renfro started toward Serena.

  “It’s already in the cloud, Mr. Renfro,” said Martha.

  Gordon Renfro paused and collected himself. I could see him thinking it through. “I mean, uh . . . no comment,” he mumbled, backing away as he held the Mind Mole in the sack. “No comment.”

  “Hey!” I cried. “You stop right there!”

  He didn’t. With a parting “No comment!” he leaped over the edge of the volcano and half slid, half tumbled away down the slope.

  By the time we reached the base of Mount Putta-Putta, Gordon Renfro was gone.

  “Something tells me we haven’t seen the last of that guy,” I said.

  “Forget him, Sam. The most important thing is that you saved Cartimandua,” said Martha, grabbing her from me and planting little kisses all over her. Cartimandua squeaked.

  “Not me,” I said. “It was the little guy.”

  Hammie Rex hopped up and down in my hand, growling happily and slobbering everywhere.

  Martha gave Hamstersaurus Rex a solemn salute. “This is unprecedented, but . . . by the power vested in me by Horace Hotwater Middle School, I hereby appoint you, Hamstersaurus Rex, to the rank of Hamster Monitor, First Class!”

  “Can a hamster become a Hamster Monitor?” said Dylan.

  “This one can,” I said.

  Dylan and I both gave Hammie Rex the same salute. Then we broke down laughing.

  “What’s a ‘Hamster Monitor’?” asked Serena.

  “Look, we’ll catch you up on everything,” said Beefer. “The first thing you’ve got to understand is that Sam used to be this horrible bully . . .”

  CHAPTER 26

  “HOME, SWEET REINFORCED titanium home,” I said as I gently placed Cartimandua back into the PETCATRAZ Pro™ on Wednesday morning before class. She kicked up a few cedar shavings and then turned to stare at her favorite spot on the wall.

  “Safe and sound,” said Dylan. “Doing what she does best.”

  “So,” said Martha, “as Hamster Monitors, how do we make sure this type of thing never, ever happens again?”

  “How do we make sure the type of thing where Cartimandua is abducted by an evil mole with paranormal mental powers never happens again?” I said.

  Martha nodded.

  “Hmm,” I said. “Maybe put a
n extra lock on the cage?”

  “Or set up some sort of laser grid,” said Dylan.

  “I like Dylan’s suggestion,” said Martha.

  From my pocket, Hamstersaurus Rex gave a gurgly little coo. Cartimandua shot a glance in his direction. If I were to play the highly subjective game of interpreting hamster facial expressions, I’d say she kinda-sorta smiled. Maybe. Was it true love? Or simply the beginning of a beautiful hamster friendship? Who knew? Maybe Cartimandua just wanted to get a better look at a different wall?

  But I did know that Hamstersaurus Rex was back to his old happy, slobbery self again. Whatever his future held, the little guy seemed to be okay with it for the moment. I scratched him on his back spikes and he gave a contented belch.

  That day at lunch I made an official announcement: after helping to rescue our new classroom hamster, I was done taking any new “cases” for the moment. My career as a boy detective was officially on ice.

  “I think that’s the right choice,” said Tina Gomez. “You weren’t very good at it anyway.”

  Coach Weekes intercepted me in the hall. “Gibbs! Just the kid I was looking to see. I have to know: How did things work out for your so-called wink-wink friend and his or her, but probably his, life goals?”

  I didn’t quite know how to answer. “Seems like . . . it is what it is.”

  Coach nodded sagely and put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re welcome,” he said. “And now, I’m off to quit my job.”

  “Wait!” I said. “Don’t do that. We, uh, need you here at Horace Hotwater.”

  Coach Weekes smiled. “No, no, Gibbs. I’ve made up my mind,” he said. “Don’t try to talk me out of this decision by telling me stuff like I’m basically the heart and soul of this school, and things would completely fall apart around here without me.”

  “Uh. But Coach, you’re the heart and soul of this school and things would completely fall apart around here without you,” I said.

  “You know what? You’re right, Gibbs. I think I’ll stay,” said Coach Weekes. “Thanks for the little nudge.”