Dog's Best Friend

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by James Patterson


  Yeah, that’s right. Cheap Walks was identical twins! The whole thing was like a magic trick, without the quarter or the handcuffs.

  All of a sudden it was two against one, and I didn’t feel so much like fighting anymore. So I stuck myself into that snowbank as deep I could. Then I stayed low and waited for them to walk their thieving butts around the next corner.

  This was definitely war now. But I needed to be readier for it than I was. And that meant it was time to call in the reinforcements. I didn’t have a twin brother of my own anymore, at least not outside my comics, but I did have someone who’d always had my back.

  Also known as Flip.

  Doing It Right

  So there I am, half an hour later in Flip’s basement, racing to the top of the Bottomless Caverns of D’Enth. I’m picking up all the gold nuggets I can find, but I’m watching out, too. In TrollQuest, you never know when the next gnarly, slimy, or super-weaponized enemy is going to come running around the corner to destroy you.

  Which, when you think about it, wasn’t so different from my dog-walking problem.

  And you’re probably thinking, Yo, Rafe, didn’t you have a huge emergency you wanted to talk to Flip about, like, three paragraphs ago?

  Well, yeah. But just because I had a war on my hands doesn’t mean I had to skip the best part about being at Flip’s house.

  “So what’s the plan?” Flip asked me.

  “I want to find as much gold as I can,” I said, “Once we level up, I think we can trade it in for—”

  “No, I mean with those Cheap Walks losers,” Flip said. “If you ask me, you ought to pound them like a pair of railroad spikes.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said. Now that I’d had a chance to cool off, I didn’t want to pound anyone (or be pounded by them, either). Not anymore. I just wanted to protect my business.

  And to be honest, I wasn’t completely listening to Flip. We’d just run around a bend in the cave and right into a pod of skeleton zombies. Those are the worst kind. You shatter one of them with your sword, and all you get is a hundred reanimated skeleton parts coming after you from a hundred different directions. Believe me, you only make that mistake once.

  “Get out of there!” Flip yelled.

  “I am!” I said, and we both headed back to the main cavern to look for another way up.

  “Okay, so what next?” I said.

  “Maybe you should fight fire with fire,” Flip said. “Find out who Cheap Walks’ customers are and pick them off—”

  “I mean in the game!” I said.

  “Oh,” Flip said. “In that case, hang on.”

  He spun his axe around five or six times and smashed a hole right into the cavern ceiling. We ran up the pile of rubble it made, knocked down the pile behind us, and kept going.

  “What do you think would happen if I just tried talking to those guys?” I said.

  “You can’t talk to skeleton zombies,” Flip said. “They don’t even have ears.”

  “No, the Cheap Walks guys,” I said.

  “Huh?” Flip said.

  Finally, I paused the game. Maybe we needed to focus on one thing at a time.

  “I was just wondering if I should go over there and talk it out, face-to-face,” I said. “You know, like adults.”

  “Seriously?” Flip said.

  “Seriously,” I said. I’d been thinking about Mom too. And I knew that was what she’d want me to do.

  Flip just shrugged like that was some kind of crazy new idea. Then he took the game off Pause and we started running again.

  “Whatever you want, it’s your call,” he said. “Just tell me where to go, what to do, and who not to pound.”

  And that’s what makes Flip such a great best friend. Because he always has my back—in the game and in the real world.

  The Face-Off

  As soon as we got out of school the next day, Flip came home with me to pick up Junior. Then we went over to get Marshmallow and go out for a walk like usual.

  But we didn’t go in the usual direction. Now that I knew how to sniff out those Cheap Walks rats, I went right for their neighborhood.

  It didn’t take long to get a nose full of rat either. We were coming up the same block as the last time, and there he was. One of them, anyway. He was walking two little brown dogs down someone’s driveway.

  “HEY—CHEAP WALKS!” Flip yelled.

  The kid stopped and turned around. When he saw us, he pulled a coach’s whistle out of his pocket and blew it, really loud.

  It must have been a signal, because two seconds later the other twin came flying around the corner with a big black Lab on a leash.

  And I thought—Man, these twerps really know what they’re doing.

  About five seconds later, the four of us were standing there on the sidewalk, face-to-face-to-face-to-face. You could have cut the tension with a plastic knife.

  And yeah, I’ll admit it. I might have been thinking a little bit about TrollQuest again. They even looked a little like trolls.

  “What do you want?” the twin on the right said.

  “I’m Dogs To Go,” I said. “And I came over to say it’s not cool to steal another guy’s customers.”

  The two of them looked at each other like I’d told some kind of joke or something.

  “Ohhh, we’re sowwy,” Righty said.

  “What?” I said.

  “Did we hurt your widdle feewings?” Lefty said. And then they both cracked up.

  “Are you kidding me with this?” Flip said. “It’s called doing business in America. Get used to it,” Lefty said. “And besides, you tore down our poster at the dog park about two minutes after we put it up.”

  “Only because you tore mine down, dude!” I said.

  “I’m not your dude, dude!” Lefty said. “And we didn’t even see your dumb poster. It probably ripped itself down because it was ashamed of its own lameness.”

  “Sure you didn’t,” Flip said. “And yours just happened to go up in the exact same spot. Don’t even try.”

  “Are you calling him a liar?” Righty said.

  “More like half a liar,” Flip said, then pointed at Righty. “And you’re the other half.”

  “Shut up,” Lefty told him.

  “No, you shut up,” I said.

  “Okay, that’s it,” Flip said. And he went for them both.

  I started to pull Flip back, but that sidewalk was like an ice rink. My foot hit an extra-slick patch, and I went down hard. Plus, Junior’s leash got tangled in the black Lab’s leash just before Lefty came at me, and missed, and hit the dirt too. Or the ice, I guess.

  I managed to get out of his way, but I tripped up Righty when I did, and pretty soon we were all just one big knot of arms, legs, dogs, and leashes.

  “Get off me!” one of the twins said.

  “I’m not on you,” I said.

  “Woof!”

  “Ruff!”

  “Just MOVE, you doofus!”

  “If I could move, I would.”

  “Get your stinkin’ elbow out of my ear.”

  “Get your stinkin’ breath out of my face.”

  “What?”

  “WOOF!”

  It wasn’t exactly like that. Some of the words were the kind that can earn you a detention in school. But you get the idea.

  By the time we untangled ourselves, I was out of breath, super ticked off, and, to be honest, a little bit relieved. No one had thrown any punches, but I wasn’t sure how long that was going to last. And I had just enough brains to know that going all MMA fighter on each other wasn’t going to cut it either.

  So we just took our dogs and got out of there. Talking to those guys obviously wasn’t going to work. It was time to put Plan A in the trash and start dusting off Plan B instead.

  Or maybe I should call it Plan M. For Mom.

  Plan M

  Hey, Mom, what do you do when you have a problem with someone?” I asked her that night.

  Mom stopped s
tirring the chili she was making and looked at me like the fire alarm had just gone off.

  “Did you get in a fight?” she asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “You can tell me—”

  “I didn’t get in a fight,” I said. Technically, it was true.

  “Okay, good,” she said. She looked relieved and started chopping onions.

  “I’m not asking about a fight-fight. I mean more like a conflict,” I said. “Like if someone was stealing your shifts at the diner, what would you do?”

  “Well, first of all, people can’t ‘steal’ my shifts,” she said. “But if someone tried, I wouldn’t let them get away with it.”

  “Yeah, but how?” I said. I could imagine some possibilities, but not any realistic ones.

  “Well, I’d either talk to Swifty, or to the other person directly,” Mom told me. Then she gave me this look that said—Okay, mister. I answered your question. Now it’s time to answer mine.

  “Why are we talking about this, Rafe?” she asked.

  I knew that was coming. So I told her the whole thing, about Cheap Walks, and how I did try to talk to them, and how that had gone about as well as a campfire in a helium balloon.

  When I was done, Mom looked at me like I’d just told her I’d climbed Mount Everest. Without oxygen. Or feet.

  “You really are getting more mature, aren’t you?” she said. Then she gave me a big hug, and a kiss too. Which was more credit than I deserved.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re going to like what comes next,” Mom said. “But it’s time for me to call these boys’ parents.”

  “WHAT?” I said. “What happened to not playing referee?”

  “Let’s just say I take that on a case-by-case basis,” Mom told me. “Stealing your customers is not okay.”

  Yeah, I thought, but neither was getting my mommy to fight my battles for me.

  Now it was too late. Before you could say “NO NO NO, PLEASE DON’T DO THIS, YOU’RE GIVING THEM EVEN MORE AMMUNITION AGAINST ME!,” Mom was on the phone calling Cheap Walks.

  It was my own fault, I guess. I was the one who thought it was a good idea to talk to Mom in the first place. At least, part of me thought so. The other part was ready to strangle the first part. Because that guy never knows when to keep his stupid mouth shut.

  Summit Meeting

  So Mom set up a meeting at Cheap Walks’ house and we had to go over there the next night, when I was supposed to be playing TQ with Flip. That’s like trading in a trip to Disney World for a dentist’s appointment. With twin dentists.

  Not that I had much choice.

  It turned out they lived only a couple of blocks from our house. And when their mom answered the door, she was totally friendly too.

  “Hello, I’m Cora Finn,” the lady said. “You’ll have to excuse the mess. I just got home from work, and there’s never enough time for cleaning.”

  “Believe me, I know how that is,” Mom said, and just like that, the two of them were all insta-buddy-buddy.

  I followed them into the living room, and that’s where I came face-to-face with the matching scumbags again.

  “Rafe, this is Eddie and Ethan,” Mrs. Finn said. “Say hello, boys.”

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi,” they said. I kind of expected some evil eye, but they just acted normal. Probably because of the mom factor. I didn’t forget they were total fakes, though. They weren’t fooling me.

  “Boys, take the Khatchadorians’ coats, please,” Mrs. Finn told them. “And would everyone like some hot cider?”

  It was almost like we were there for a party or something. But unless we were going to play Pin-the-Blame-on-the-Twins, I wasn’t interested.

  After that, the two moms did most of the talking. That’s when I found out that Ethan and Eddie went to West Middle School, but they’d just moved into our neighborhood from across town.

  “Next week, they’ll be transferring to HVMS!” Mrs. Finn said, like that was supposed to be a good thing. It just kept getting worse. The last thing I needed at school was two more problems.

  So I fired up my cyborg brain, hacked into the school computer’s mainframe, canceled their registration, and gave both of them an extensive criminal record while I was at it.

  You know… or not.

  More like I wish.

  Anyway, all you really need to know is that by the time our “meeting” was over, we had some new rules.

  1. No stealing anyone’s customers.

  2. No touching anyone else’s signs. We still didn’t agree about who started it, but Mom and Mrs. Finn said that didn’t even matter anymore. (Even though it did, if you ask me.)

  And number three was the big one.

  “This is going to be the first and last time we do this,” Mrs. Finn said.

  “If we have to step in again, trust me, nobody’s going to like it,” Mom said.

  “That’s okay with me,” I said. Mostly I just wanted to get back to making money without the twins of doom cutting into my profits.

  “Yeah, okay,” Eddie said.

  “That’s fair,” Ethan said.

  I was finally starting to figure them out too. Ethan had a bigger nose and Eddie always talked first.

  “Now shake on it,” Mrs. Finn said.

  So I went ahead and shook hands with both of them. Because I’m an idiot. And I don’t mean for making a deal with those two. I mean, I’m an idiot because I actually believed they were making a deal with me.

  Well, guess what?

  They weren’t.

  Let’s (Not) Make a Deal

  Guess how long it took for Cheap Walks to strike again.

  Three days?

  Two days?

  Fourteen and a half hours?

  Wrong! They’d already struck before me and Mom even left their house, if you can believe that.

  So there I was the next day, walking Junior and Marshmallow, just minding my own business.

  And speaking of “business,” about halfway to the dog park, Junior stopped and did some of his own. I pulled a baggie out of my coat pocket, stuck my hand inside, bent down to pick it up like usual, and—

  EWWWWWWWWWWWW!

  Yeah. There was a big hole in the bag. Exactly what you’re thinking might have happened… happened.

  I used about a ton and a half of snow to clean off my hand. By the time I finished, my fingers were blue. And numb. If I could have boiled that hand, I would have.

  Meanwhile, I still had Junior’s business to pick up, so I pulled out another bag, and—riii-iiiip! My hand went right through that one too.

  I always kept a supply in my coat, but when I checked, I saw that every single bag had been cut along the bottom.

  That’s when I started putting two and two together. And it added up to…

  Cheap Walks.

  It wasn’t like I needed an official note from Eddie and Ethan to figure out they were behind this. But guess what? There was one of those too. Right at the bottom of my pocket.

  So much for making a deal.

  What Next?

  As soon as I got to the dog park, I let Junior and Marshmallow off their leashes and sat down to think.

  I’m not going to lie. I was starting to wonder if maybe the problem was me. I’ve never been the world’s leading expert at “getting along well with others,” if you know what I mean. Maybe it was time to take a good long look in the mirror.

  And I would. Definitely. Real soon.

  But in the meantime, I was mostly thinking about what Ethan and Eddie would look like hanging in a giant, sticky web, waiting to be turned into a two-course meal for an army of yellow-eyed spider freaks.

  And I can just hear them now.

  “HELP MEEEEEEE!”

  “I’M SCAAAAAARED!!”

  “I CAN’T MOOOOOVE!”

  “I JUST WET MY PAAAAAAANTS!”

  Which is exactly when I happen to stumble across them, right the
re in the middle of my own daydream-quest.

  “Well, well, well. Look who wandered into my world,” I say. “Seems like you two could use a little Troll 911.”

  “You have to help us!” Eddie says.

  “Get us down from here!” Ethan begs.

  Meanwhile, I’m holding on to my axe, which of course is more than strong enough to cut them loose.

  I mean, if I feel like it.

  “You know, you really shouldn’t shout like that,” I say. “Those spider folks have great hearing.” Then I check over my shoulder, where I can just see the first few pairs of yellow eyes starting to emerge from the woods. “I think you’re running out of time too.”

  “Please!” Eddie says.

  “We’ll do anything!” Ethan says.

  And I nod, and let them sweat just a little more, while the eight-legged army creeps in a little closer… a little closer… a little closer…

  “Okay, tell you what,” I say. “I’ll cut you loose. But in exchange, I’m going to need you to leave the planet, never come back—oh, and wash my troll car before you go. Deal?”

  “Deal!” Eddie says.

  “Just hurry!” Ethan says, and I can see the relief in their beady little eyes as I raise my axe to cut them down.

  But then I stop again.

  “Actually,” I say, “I’m still not a hundred percent sure I can trust you. So I think I’m going to need all that in writing. Either of you have a pen?”

  “NO!” they both blubber at the same time.

  “Oh… gosh,” I say. “Well, that’s too bad. For you, anyway. I guess that means—”

  “HEY, KID! I’M TALKING TO YOU!” someone yelled.

  When I looked up from my park bench, I had Big Beard, Puffy Coat, and Candy Crush all staring at me like I’d farted in church or something.

  “Huh?” I said, coming back to earth.

 

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