Samantha Spinner and the Spectacular Specs

by Russell Ginns

  “You were onstage? Inside Buffy’s phony Cleopatra’s Needle?” she asked.

  “Not by choice,” he answered. “That balloon clown caught me and stuffed me inside.”

  He brushed some plaster from the shoulder of his tuxedo T-shirt.

  “When the door opened to the June shoe room, I expected it to be you,” he continued. “I don’t know how he figured out I was in there.”

  “Sorry,” said Samantha. “He overheard us when we figured it out in Machu Picchu, and he got to New York first.”

  “That’s okay,” he replied. “You found a way to make everything right again. You’re amazing.”

  It was Uncle Paul’s turn to give a big hug.

  “I’m so proud of you, Samantha,” he added. “A lot of us are.”

  “A lot of us?” she asked. “Who is ‘a lot of us’?”

  “Well,” he said, “there’s your mom and dad, for starters.”

  She didn’t think that was a complete answer.

  “Where are your parents anyway?” he asked.

  “They went to look for Nipper,” she answered. “He’s disappeared…again.”

  Uncle Paul looked worried.

  “The SUN can’t still be dangerous,” said Samantha. “Can it?”

  “They were never too dangerous,” he answered.

  She wrinkled her brow, confused.

  “Take a moment and reflect on the absurdity of those clowns,” he said.

  “Been there, done that,” she replied.

  “I’ll explain on the way to Buffy’s apartment,” said Uncle Paul. “Your brother’s in real danger this time, and we’ve got to find him right away.”

  Samantha followed her uncle out through the lobby to the street. A taxi sat waiting with an open rear door.

  “Central Park West,” Uncle Paul told the driver as he hopped in and slid across the seat.

  “Quickly, please,” Samantha added, following him in and pulling the door shut.

  The cabdriver sniffed three times, two short snorts and a long one, and then hit the gas. They sped away, leaving Scarlett Hydrangea’s Secret of the Nile behind.

  Once in a lifetime, a licensed theater critic makes a mistake. A little over a month ago, my mistake was going to East Forty-Sixth Street to see an exclusive one-night preview by Scarlett Hydrangea. I witnessed something atrocious, amateurish, and annoying.

  It turns out I had gone to the wrong building.

  This evening, I went to the theater on West Forty-Sixth Street. The performance I saw was like no other.

  The show began with a parade of animals stampeding onto the stage. They were all unquestionably real, except for the monkey. Who knew that real live animals could be so good at standing still once a big wind machine got going?

  There was an experimental Scottish-Japanese dance number, with flying bagpipes and women in foamy white makeup. They tumbled across the stage as waitress-warriors, holding small silver shields. I couldn’t fully understand the meaning of their dance, but it made me hungry for pie.

  Then the theater filled with fog. I heard the incredibly loud horn of a huge ocean liner. A loud crunch reverberated through the theater. Without showing or telling us anything, Miss Hydrangea re-created the tragic voyage of the RMS Titanic as it struck an iceberg!

  Suddenly, a dramatic explosion of red! A crimson cloud drifted across the theater. An unseen chorus of a hundred voices wailed and moaned in complex harmony. I’m sure it was meant to symbolize the magical eternal battle between good and evil.

  Then, boldly defying all theatrical conventions, the sets collapsed! Obelisks and pyramids crashed to the floor, preparing the stage for the stunning, climactic finale.

  A colossal blue mummy, as tall as the theater itself, stumbled in from the wings. This was the Secret of the Nile! It moved through the wreckage while twenty-two actors dressed as New York City policemen wrestled the Egyptian behemoth out of sight.

  Head, nay, run to this theater, and catch Scarlett Hydrangea’s play. I would gladly see it fifty nights in a row, but I am off to the West Coast, where I will secure financing for the big-budget movie version. The world needs more spectacular spectacles such as these.

  Charles von Bagelhouven III,

  Licensed Theater Critic

  “I didn’t doubt you for a second,” said Uncle Paul.

  The cab turned onto the West Side Highway, heading north.

  “I knew you’d find a way to stop the RAIN and the SUN,” he said.

  “Thanks,” said Samantha. “But you left without saying goodbye.”

  She looked out the cab window, feeling hurt. She watched a few brightly lit skyscrapers pass by. Then she turned back to him.

  “And why did you have to make everything so crazy mixed-up, mysterious, and confusing?” she asked.

  “I knew that other people might be watching or listening,” he replied. “I had to be sure it wasn’t too easy for anyone else to figure out.”

  “Who?” she asked. “Those ridiculous clowns again?”

  “No, not them,” he answered. “The only danger from the SUN was that they might have spilled our secrets to someone who is really dangerous.”

  “Really dangerous? Are you worried about Aunt Penny, too?”

  Uncle Paul looked confused.

  “Aunt Penny?” he replied. “What are you talking about?”

  “Nipper thinks ‘Don’t trust N T’ meant our aunt,” Samantha said. “I didn’t think he was right, but I hid the umbrella in a trombone case just to be safe.”

  “No,” said Uncle Paul. “He’s completely wrong. That message meant don’t trust—”

  Bonk!

  A red leather boxing glove shot from the front of the cab and punched Uncle Paul squarely in the face. He fell back against his seat, stunned.

  As one, the cab doors clicked locked and tinny circus music began to play from the speakers.

  “Thank you for protecting my umbrella until I was able to retrieve it, young lady,” the cabdriver said in a creepy, fake-friendly voice.

  Samantha was half frozen with fear. She didn’t say anything as she glanced back and forth between the driver and Uncle Paul. She remembered wanting her uncle to get punched squarely in the face when they were in the theater. Seeing it happen definitely did not make her feel better.

  They rode the rest of the way to Buffy’s apartment building in silence. Samantha noticed Uncle Paul rub his face several times. He looked dazed. That punch must have hurt a lot.

  Samantha needed to come up with a new plan.

  The cab screeched to a halt in front of the entrance to Buffy’s building. Without turning off the engine, the driver got out and opened Samantha’s door. He had enormous shoes and wore a red ball nose filter. It was the same horrible top hat clown that spoke to her by Buffy’s theater before the play. But now he wasn’t wearing his top hat. He was holding it pointed at her face.

  “Get out, both of you,” he said.

  He wasn’t using his fake-friendly voice anymore, either.

  Samantha and Uncle Paul walked ahead of the clown into the building. There was no sign of Nathaniel, so they went straight to the main elevator. The clown stepped in front of them and pushed the button. The doors opened and he waved them inside, keeping his boxing-glove top hat pointed at them.

  Samantha smiled. Nope. She didn’t need a new plan.

  Samantha and her uncle stood with their backs against the rear elevator wall. The clown aimed his hat at Uncle Paul, then at her, and back at her uncle again.

  Samantha glanced at her uncle. He still seemed stunned from the punch in the cab. His face drooped. His arms hung weakly at his sides.

  He gave her a quick wink. Then his face drooped again.

  Samantha smiled.

  She took a half step forward.

 
“My sister lives up there,” she told the clown, and pointed to the penthouse button.

  She waved her finger and pointed several times, making sure that she drew his attention to the top button on the panel.

  “Yes, yes. I’ll handle it,” he said, stepping in front of her without taking a closer look at things. He waved his hat a few inches from her nose. “I already know where to find your sister…and now my umbrella.”

  He reached for the elevator control panel with his free hand, not taking his eyes off Samantha. She watched him closely as his hand swept up the vertical panel and hovered. He pressed the top button with his index finger.

  Nothing happened.

  Keeping his eyes—and his hat—trained on Samantha, he pressed the button again.

  But the elevator doors didn’t close.

  Still not looking, he scratched at the button with his fingernail.

  He stopped. His eyes began to turn red and tear up. He sniffed the air three times. A look of horror crept across his face.

  He spun to face the elevator panel. His eyes darted quickly up the line of buttons. The top button was labeled “PH.” Just above it—where he had pressed twice and scratched—he saw a sticker shaped like a long, thin red fruit.

  “A hot chili pepper!” he shouted.

  He pried the sticker off the metal panel and turned back to Samantha.

  “Did you know about this?” the clown wheezed.

  With one hand, he shook the sticker at her.

  “She…Nose!” said Uncle Paul as he reached out and pulled off the clown’s nose ball filter.

  With his other hand, Uncle Paul snatched the sticker and stuck it on the clown’s real nose. The clown coughed twice and gasped, then fell to the floor, unconscious.

  Samantha pushed the real button to Buffy’s penthouse.

  Uncle Paul picked up the top hat. Using his foot, he rolled Chuckles J. Morningstar out of the elevator just before the doors closed. They started to rise.

  “When did you put that sticker there?” Uncle Paul asked.

  “Yesterday, as soon as we arrived,” Samantha answered.

  “Impressive,” he said. “How did you know you’d need it?”

  “I took a moment to reflect on the absurdity of those clowns,” she replied.

  The elevator chimed.

  “Good one,” said Uncle Paul.

  The doors opened.

  “So,” said Uncle Paul. “Where was—”

  “Aye!” shouted a raspy voice.

  “Scurvy dogs!”—a gruff voice echoed around the glitzy, garish living room.

  Nathaniel. He stood near the balcony door, shouting. Instead of a leather coat, he wore a puffy white shirt and a black vest. A red bandana covered his head. With one hand, he waved a sword in the air. With the other, he was gripping Nipper’s collar.

  “I knew it!” Nipper called. “He’s been talking like a pirate the whole time!”

  Samantha looked across the room. Mr. and Mrs. Spinner sat on the floor nearby. They were back to back, tied together with colorful yarn. It looked like it must have taken at least a hundred feet of yarn to wrap them so thoroughly.

  “Mom?” Samantha called. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re okay, dear,” her mother answered. “But I think your sister’s assistant is a little unhinged.”

  “My mind has both oars in the water, ma’am,” Nathaniel barked at her. “But my patience…has set sail!”

  “When we got to the apartment, he said it was time for a Polynesian surprise—and he attacked us,” said Mr. Spinner.

  “Arrrrrr!” Nathaniel shouted.

  He swung his sword wildly overhead, scratching the gold ceiling. Flakes of gold drifted onto the $167,000 carpet. Samantha noticed Nipper struggling to get free, but Nathaniel held him tight by his shirt collar.

  Samantha had just defeated a hundred clowns and found her missing uncle. A weird pirate did not worry her that much.

  “I’m a patient man, am I,” Nathaniel growled. “But months of catering to your sister’s foolishness…has worn me out!”

  He swept his hand upward again, banging his cutlass on a nearby statue.

  “Now proffer the crimson carapace!” he ordered.

  Samantha looked confused.

  “I seek the ruby octangulus awning!” he shouted.

  Everyone glanced around the room, waiting for someone to interpret.

  Nathaniel sighed.

  “The umbrella, Samantha. Give me the red umbrella,” he said, under his breath.

  “Oh. That?” she replied. “No.”

  “Arrrrr!” he shouted, and waved his sword again. “Hand me the Super-Secret Plans. Then ye shall go free!”

  He shook Nipper’s collar. “Except for this scallywag,” he added. “Far too annoying is he.”

  Nathaniel pressed the tip of his sword to Nipper’s throat.

  “Any last words, lad?” he asked.

  Samantha held her breath and looked at Nipper. Nipper glanced at her, at the sword, at the piano, and then back at her.

  Together, they shouted:

  “In a mist-covered ocean far, far from home, there’s a mountainous island where dinosaurs roam!”

  A scraping, twanging, pounding noise filled the room. It sounded like a guitar tumbling inside a washing machine. The mahogany lid of the grand piano flew open. The Komodo dragon burst out and flopped on the floor next to Nathaniel. It hissed up at him, loudly.

  “Bluebeard’s bloomers!” Nathaniel exclaimed. “How has this infernal beast found me?”

  The giant lizard lurched forward and sank its teeth into the man’s leg.

  “Avast!” Nathaniel shouted, dropping his cutlass and falling to the floor.

  He flailed his arms, struggling to free his leg from the mouth of the venomous lizard. But the creature refused to let go.

  “Release me!” Nathaniel screamed, slapping at the lizard’s snout.

  The Komodo dragon jerked its head mightily and Nathaniel’s left leg separated from his body. It was fake! The rubber leg slid off a wooden stick. The lizard rolled under the piano with the phony leg in its mouth.

  Nathaniel stood up quickly, balancing on the wooden shaft where his left leg used to be.

  “He’s got a phony leg!” shouted Nipper.

  The elevator chimed, and a pair of pink marble doors slid open.

  Aunt Penny stepped out with two men in uniform. Samantha read the words Wild Animal Rescue Team on their windbreakers. One man held a long pole with a very large net. The other man had a tranquilizer dart gun in each hand.

  “There’s the monster!” shouted Aunt Penny.

  The man with the dart guns fired them both. Two darts hit Nathaniel in his good leg.

  “Ahoy!” shouted Nathaniel, collapsing on the floor.

  Under the piano, the Komodo dragon chewed furiously on the fake limb.

  The other WART agent knelt, reached out his pole, and gently lowered the net over the lizard.

  “Yarnnn-nnn,” Nathaniel said softly, and then he began to snore.

  “I’m so glad you’re all safe,” Aunt Penny said, helping to untie Mr. and Mrs. Spinner. “I called WART as soon as I saw your suitcase wriggling. But they put me on hold for nineteen hours.”

  “How did you figure out it was a Komodo dragon?” Nipper asked.

  “I didn’t,” Aunt Penny laughed. “But when your brother is married to a rodent-and-lizard expert, it’s always a good idea to be on the lookout for this kind of thing.”

  Nipper gave Aunt Penny a big hug.

  Mrs. Spinner went to check on the Komodo dragon. She took Uncle Paul’s waffle tongs from her purse and used them to pull the net away from the spot on the lizard’s snout where Nathaniel had slapped it.

  “Watch out,” Nipper said. “D
on’t trust…net!”

  “All right, that’s enough,” said Uncle Paul, stepping forward. “ ‘Don’t trust N T’ was supposed to mean don’t trust…”

  “Nate,” finished Samantha.

  Everyone looked at the snoring pirate on the floor. Uncle Paul put his hand on Samantha’s shoulder.

  “You’ll have to practice your super-secret codes,” he said, “if you’re going to become a member of PSST.”

  “I will,” she said. “Wait. I mean, I am?”

  She glanced at her brother, still standing with his arms around Aunt Penny.

  “What about Nipper?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure he’s right for PSST,” said Uncle Paul. “He seems more like WRUF material to me.”

  Mr. Spinner stepped forward.

  “WRUF! The Worldwide Reciters of Useless Facts,” he said excitedly. “I’ve been a member for years.”

  He pulled a laminated card from his pocket and held it up.

  Samantha squinted at the card. “ ‘Level Five…Master of Minutiae,’ ” she read.

  “Their headquarters is in Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch,” Mr. Spinner added.

  “Oh. In Wales,” said Nipper.

  “This evening keeps getting odder,” said Mrs. Spinner.

  “Everything gets odd when you add clowns,” said Uncle Paul.

  Nipper shot Samantha a knowing look. She couldn’t agree more.

  “We’ll take the dragon to the Central Park Zoo, folks,” said one of the WART agents.

  “Drop the pirate off at the police station on the way, would you, boys?” asked Aunt Penny.

  Uncle Paul took out the top hat that used to belong to Chuckles J. Morningstar and adjusted it on his head.

  “Oh, no!” Aunt Penny gasped at her brother’s new fashion choice. “Please, no. Anything but that.”

  Samantha and Uncle Paul looked at the city through the panoramic windows of Buffy’s living room.

  “I knew Nipper would try to talk Mom and Dad into taking the train so he could sneak the lizard to New York,” Samantha explained. “And since the train was going past Baraboo, I figured the SUN might sneak on board, too.”