by Greg Trine
It was horrible being in a story where the narrator was obviously off his rocker.
6
HOLY WHAT-THE-HECK-WAS-THAT?
Off his rocker, indeed! But let’s get back to our story.
Yes, Goofball and Company had their time machine ready to go, but all was not well on Lair Hill. Melvin Beederman and Candace Brinkwater were on patrol, and they were closing in.
“What do you see, Melvin?” Candace asked as they scanned the lairs below.
“Dirty underwear, and way too much of it!”
“Besides that.”
Melvin held up a hand. “Hold on. I hear something.” He hovered in place and listened. It was coming from one of the lairs. “Some guys are discussing the narrator.”
“So?” Candace said.
“So it may be Goofball and Company. Come on.” Melvin zoomed ahead and Candace followed.
Discussing the narrator wasn’t a sure sign that it was the bad guys they were looking for. Maybe it was a book club. But something, or someone, told Melvin that he was on the right track. Actually, what told him was the guy telling the story.
But that’s a little too much narrator intrusion, even for this book.
Melvin dropped a little lower and continued to listen. “Now they’re talking about something else. Time travel.”
“I hear it,” Candace said, gazing at her partner in uncrime. “They’re saying something about Melvin Beederman, too.”
* * *
Goofball McCluskey set the dials on the time machine for when Melvin was still at the academy. This was going to be fun, he thought. “Strap in, guys,” he told Max and Calamity. “Let’s go make his life miserable.”
The three partners in crime took their places in the time machine and fastened their seat belts. The directions said that re-entry could be a little rough. You had to be strapped in to avoid injury.
“Ready?” Goofball asked.
“Roger that,” Max said.
“Who’s Roger?” Calamity asked.
Goofball pushed the START button and the machine roared to life. “Hold on! Here we go.”
They did. But not right away. Not before the machine got louder and louder. Loud enough to attract the attention of a couple of superheroes.
* * *
Melvin and Candace swooped from the sky. They found the house where the guys had been discussing the narrator. It was the same place where they had been discussing time travel—and Melvin Beederman. Now there was some machine making all kinds of noise.
Melvin pointed to the front door of the lair. “Candace, do the honors.” It was her turn to kick in the door. He’d kicked in the last one.
“GLADLY,” Candace shouted above the sound of the screaming machine. She kicked in the door. Then she and Melvin rushed into the room.
“Not so fast!” Melvin said. But they were too late. They caught a glimpse of three men seat-belted into some kind of machine. And then it vanished right before their eyes.
“Holy what-the-heck-was-that?” Melvin said.
Holy what-the-heck-was-that, indeed! Don’t you know a time machine when you see it, Melvin? He didn’t.
Melvin looked at his partner in uncrime. “Was I seeing things, or did three guys just disappear?”
“I saw it, too,” Candace said. “And not just any guys … that was Goofball McCluskey, Max the Wonder Thug, and Calamity Wayne.”
“Yes.” Melvin nodded. “I’d recognize Max’s thick neck anywhere.”
The two superheroes began looking around the room for clues. It didn’t take a genius to realize something sinister was afoot. Or maybe it was something devious. And maybe it wasn’t a foot—it could have been an ankle. The point is, you have to be concerned when three of the worst criminals in Los Angeles vanish before your eyes.
Candace walked over to a table that was covered with sheets of paper. “Melvin, look at this.”
“Looks like directions for putting together a time machine,” Melvin said. He picked up a sheet for a closer look. When he did he saw a note beneath it: Melvin Beederman … Superhero Academy.
“Any ideas, Candace?”
“Hmm. Your name, the name of your school, and a time machine,” Candace said, staring at the papers on the table. “Why would bad guys want to travel in time?”
“They’re history buffs?” suggested Melvin. He shook his head. No, it was something else.
“Do you think they went into the future?” Candace asked.
Melvin thought about this. Then looked again at the paper with his name and school. “Holy my-goose-is-cooked! No, not the future. The past!” Melvin pointed. “They are headed to the Superhero Academy to get me—the younger me!”
Holy his-goose-is-cooked, indeed! That was a fine bit of detective thinking, Melvin. But how are you going to go back in time without a time machine?
“How am I, indeed!” Melvin said.
Candace looked confused. It wasn’t easy being in a story when you didn’t know who was narrating.
7
SUPERHERO PIRATES
It took some more detective work for the two partners in uncrime to figure out where the time machine had come from. But not much, because the sales receipt was right there among the papers on the table, and it had all the information they needed.
“I should have known,” Melvin said. He turned to his assistant. “Looks like Big Al is now selling time machines.”
Candace made a face like she had bitten into a Brussels sprout and worm sandwich. “It was much easier when he was just selling lairs. What’ll we do, wait until midnight and break in?”
“There’s no time for that. Goofball, Max, and Calamity are already headed for the academy. We have to go to Big Al’s now.”
“He knows what we look like,” Candace said. “And you know he never sells things to good guys.”
Melvin nodded. It was true. Al’s usual customers were bad guys. He might not want to give the superheroes any information at all, let alone sell them a time machine. If word got out that he was helping crime fighters, his business would go down the drain—followed by Al himself.
“Let’s go,” Melvin said. They ran outside. “Up, up, and away!”
Crash!
He tried again.
Splat!
Some things never change.
Thud!
Kabonk!
On the fifth try Melvin was up and flying. He joined Candace, who was waiting for him above the trees and filing her nails. She always brought something to keep herself busy while Melvin tried to launch himself.
Candace put her file away and turned to Melvin. “What’s the plan?”
“We’d better disguise ourselves,” he said. “What have you got in your closet?”
“You’d make an excellent pirate,” Candace said.
“Holy swashbuckler!” Melvin said.
Holy swashbuckler, indeed! Melvin had never been a pirate before. He’d once dressed up as Peter Pan for Halloween, but that’s as close as he’d gotten.
Melvin and Candace flew to her house and went upstairs to her bedroom. Candace began pulling things out of her closet. “Which do you prefer, a peg leg or an eye patch?”
Melvin thought this over. He’d rather limp than not be able to see. “Peg leg,” he said.
“Peg leg, it is.”
They dressed quickly. Soon they were looking very pirate-ish.
“How are your acting skills, Candace?” Melvin asked as he looked at himself in the closet mirror. His peg leg looked fabulous.
“Acting? Heck, it’s what I used to do before I started saving the world. You should have seen me play Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Great. Then I’ll let you do the talking when we get to Al’s.”
“Aye, aye, matey. Let’s go.”
They did. But they didn’t fly. Pirates streaking across the sky might look a little suspicious. In fact, pirates with capes were a little weird.
8
CLANKITY–WHUMP–POW–THUNK!
Meanwhile Goofball, Max, and Calamity were traveling back in time. Then they came to a sudden stop with a clankity–whump–pow–thunk! Just as the directions warned, re-entry was a little rough. But the sound effects were very cool.
“Very cool, indeed!” Goofball said, untangling himself from his partners in crime. He had always loved good sound effects.
“Who do you think you are? The narrator?” Max asked.
“Sorry.”
The three of them looked around. They were standing on Lair Hill, but their lair was nowhere to be seen. This made sense. They’d gone back in time, but they hadn’t changed locations. Their lair wasn’t there because they hadn’t bought it yet.
The problem was, of course, they were still in Los Angeles, and the Superhero Academy was in Boston. They’d still have to travel across the country to get to the younger, less-powerful Melvin Beederman. There was only one way to get there, Goofball decided. Fly!
“Calamity Wayne, can you fly a plane?”
“Are you kidding?” Max said. “He’d love to make like an insect and fly.”
This was true. He really would. It was what he lived for. Calamity Wayne could operate any kind of contraption that carried passengers. Planes, trains, automobiles—you name it, he could make it go.
“We need a plane,” Goofball said. “And we need one now … sooner if possible!”
* * *
While Goofball and Company were looking for a plane to steal, Melvin and Candace had arrived at Big Al’s Rent-a-Lair. Big Al himself was busy showing off the latest lairs in his showroom. The store was currently having a half-off sale, and any bad guy with half a brain would act now—including ones who looked like pirates.
“Take this baby, for example,” Al said, slapping the side of a lair. “You won’t find a better—”
“What do you have in a time machine?” Candace said. She adjusted her eye patch and put on her serious bad guy look.
She’s good, Melvin thought, limping around on his peg leg. He loved the sound it made … click thud click thud. He had always appreciated good sound effects, too.
She was good. Good enough to fool Al anyway.
“Time machine, you say?” Al cracked his knuckles and smiled. This was good news. Time machines cost even more than lairs. He’d make a bundle off these two … pirates? He’d never seen pirates with capes before. But anyone with money to spend was okay by him. He was an equal opportunity greedy person.
“Would you like it gift wrapped?” Al asked. “We also offer free delivery.”
Melvin gave Candace a hand signal, since he was letting her do the talking.
“No, thanks,” she said to Al. “We’ll take it as is.”
“It’s pretty heavy,” Al said.
“I can handle it,” Candace said. With one arm she lifted the time machine over her head.
Al’s jaw dropped at this display of strength. “How on earth—?”
“Yoga,” Melvin said, and followed his partner in uncrime through the showroom and out the front door.
They found a deserted alley and shed their pirate clothes. Melvin would miss that peg leg, but there were things to do, bad guys to catch, a young Beederman to save.
They assembled the time machine quickly, then Melvin pulled out a piece of paper he’d taken from the bad guy lair. On it was written the date when he was still at the academy. He set the dials on the time machine.
“Ready, Candace?”
She nodded, then Melvin pressed the START button.
9
AAAAAAAHHHHHH!
“We could make like a golf club,” Max suggested.
“What?” Goofball asked.
“We could make like a golf club and drive.”
Goofball shook his head. “It’ll take too long. Flying is the only way.”
Calamity loved Max’s idea of making like a golf club, but making like an insect was faster. He just happened to hate insects. Tiger Woods, on the other hand, was his hero.
They went to the local airport and looked around. “How about that one?” Calamity pointed to a small red plane with the words BUBBA’S EXPERT CROP DUSTING written on the side.
“Perfect!” Goofball said. He turned to Max. “Do what you do best, Max.”
This meant, of course, that he should smack Bubba, the owner of the plane. Max did just that. One punch and Bubba was out cold.
“Let’s make like a tree and—”
“No time to make like anything,” Goofball said, running for the plane. “Let’s go!”
The three of them jumped into the plane, Calamity started it up, and then they took off into the wild blue. Yonder, that is.
* * *
Clankity–Whump–Pow–Thunk! While the bad guys were heading into the wild blue, Melvin and Candace were coming through a rough re-entry. They had forgotten to strap in, and it wasn’t at all pretty. In fact, it was pretty ugly.
They’d gone back in time, just as Goofball and Company had. But they still had to get to Boston, the location of the academy and the younger Melvin.
“Let’s go.” Melvin got to his feet and launched himself.
This is what he tried to do at least. It took him five tries after the usual Crash! Splat! Thud! Kabonk! He joined Candace in the air, who was keeping herself busy juggling tangerines she’d plucked from a nearby tree.
“Boston, here we come,” Melvin said. They streaked eastward across the sky. With any luck they’d get there before the bad guys.
Speaking of bad guys …
Goofball, Max, and Calamity were already several states across the country by now. But they were flying a beat-up old crop duster, while Melvin and Candace were zipping along at superhero speed.
Calamity spotted them in his rearview mirror. “Bad news, boys,” he said.
“Don’t tell me,” Max said. “We’re going to make like a Beederman and crash.”
“No, but funny you should mention him.” Calamity pointed behind him. “Superheroes at six o’clock!”
Sure enough, Melvin and Candace were coming up fast.
“Do something!” Goofball screamed.
“Do what?”
“Go faster!”
“I’m going as fast as I can.” It was true—he was. Melvin and Candace would be on them any second.
And then it happened. For the first time in his life, Calamity Wayne had an idea. A good idea. A whopper of an idea.
“Grab hold of something, boys. This is going to be tricky.” He pulled back on the steering, and the plane veered skyward and disappeared into a cloud.
“I can’t see a thing,” Goofball complained.
“Perfect!” Calamity said. “Melvin and Candace won’t be able to spot us.”
* * *
“Am I losing my mind?” Melvin asked Candace as they sped along.
“Most likely,” Candace said.
“No, I mean I thought I saw a red plane. It’s gone.”
“Oh. Yeah. I saw it, too.”
But now there was nothing. There was no plane at all. Except for the clouds above them, the sky was clear to the horizon. Melvin took off his glasses and cleaned them.
Suddenly a red propeller plane dropped out of the clouds. On the side was written BUBBA’S EXPERT CROP DUSTING. Before Melvin and Candace could react, the little red plane dusted them with a nasty-smelling chemical.
Melvin coughed. “Holy bug spray!”
Holy bug spray, indeed! It was almost as bad as bologna, Melvin’s real weakness.
Almost.
Somewhere over east Texas, Melvin and Candace fell from the sky.
“Aaaaaaahhhhhh!”
“Great shot!” said Goofball.
“Excellent,” Max added.
“Thanks.” Calamity kept the plane pointing east, toward Boston, toward the Superhero Academy and the young Melvin Beederman. Nothing could stop them now.
10
TROUBLE AT NACHO’S
“Aaaaaaahhhhhh!”
It was the w
orst possible place for a crash landing. Not only was it east Texas. Not only were they two thousand miles away from their destination. But their fall from the sky landed them in Nacho’s Amazing Reptile Show and Cactus Farm.
“Ouch,” said Melvin as he finally came to a stop.
They spent the next hour removing cactus needles from each other and wrestling alligators who had mistaken them for an easy lunch. The alligators, of course, were no match for a couple of superheroes. The rattlesnakes didn’t know this, and they too joined in the battle. Then the bullfrogs jumped in—and the boa constrictors.
It was the best free-for-all anyone had ever seen. The customers loved it. Nacho himself offered Melvin and Candace a job. “You’ll both be rich,” he said.
Actually, he meant that he’d be rich, but Melvin and Candace had other plans. They had a world to save.
More important, they had the young Melvin to save.
“Thanks, but we have to get going.” Melvin looked east. “Up, up, and away!”
Crash!
Splat!
Thud!
Kabonk!
“I really loved wrestling those alligators,” Candace told him as they streaked toward the horizon.
“I know,” Melvin said. Candace had the best headlock he had ever seen.
“What was that move you put on that boa?” Candace asked. “It was amazing.”
“I call it the pretzel. Couldn’t you tell?”
* * *
Calamity brought the little red plane down in a field outside of Boston. The trio of bad guys then looked around for a car to steal to make the rest of the trip to the academy. There were no cars in the area, so they settled for a bicycle. Since Calamity was the getaway person, he pedaled, while Max and Goofball stayed on any way they could.
The academy stood up on Hero Hill overlooking Sinister Street and Devious Drive. It was almost dark when Max, Goofball, and Calamity arrived. Students of the academy were just coming in from a long day of stopping trains, rescuing damsels, and flying. At least the second-year students had been flying. The first years had not yet received their capes and were involved in simpler tasks. The young Melvin Beederman was one of the first years.