“Well,” Mr. Simon said to Mick, “I don’t mind telling you I had a rather disgusting visit with the stomach doctor this morning.”
“What’s the prognosis?” Mick asked, as if it were a perfectly normal line of conversation for a presidential interview.
“Smelly,” Mr. Simon said. “Now then. Let’s discuss your personality. The people would like to know which is your weakest quality as a potential president.”
Mick smiled. “That depends on what you mean by the word ‘weakest.’”
Mr. Simon looked a bit confused. “You don’t know what the word ‘weakest’ means?”
Mick adopted a very patient expression. “Of course I know what it means, but how do I know that you know what it means?”
Sarah realized that Mick had found yet another Planet Veritas loophole. He was a master of nonsense, and nonsense was not necessarily a lie.
“Let’s just say,” Mr. Simon said, “that my definition of ‘weakest’ is the same as your definition of ‘weakest.’ And might I remind you, Mr. Cracken, that you are under oath to tell the whole truth.”
Mick let a pause stretch on. “Well then, I’d definitely say cornflakes.”
Mr. Simon blinked. “Cornflakes are your weakest quality?”
“Yes.” Mick nodded.
“Why?”
“Why what?” Mick asked.
Even Sarah was beginning to want to punch Mick, and she could tell that Mr. Simon shared the sentiment.
“Why are cornflakes your weakest quality?” Mr. Simon asked.
“Why do you think cornflakes are my weakest quality?” Mick asked.
Mr. Simon stared at Mick, and Sarah sensed that he was reconsidering his line of questioning. Mick looked perfectly thrilled with himself.
Mr. Simon shuffled some papers and scowled at Mick. “I’m going to invoke Article Seven of the Veritas Constitution and insist that you answer a series of yes or no questions completely honestly. Failure to comply or any lying will result in immediate imprisonment. Do you understand?”
Mick nodded and reclined in his chair as if he were on vacation. “Yes.”
“Do you think you will be a better president than Candidate Wonderbar?”
“Absolutely,” Mick said.
“Are your days as a space pirate behind you and will you pledge to uphold the law of the land?”
“Nope.”
“Will you put the greater good ahead of your own personal self-interest?”
Mick’s eyes glinted. “Yes.”
Sarah recoiled. She had not expected that answer.
“Do you have a crush on your running mate?” the man in red robes asked.
Sarah replayed the last few seconds in her head to make sure she had heard what she thought she had just heard. Mick beamed at her, and though she wanted to shout or yell or demand the interview be terminated, her voice was suddenly out of operation.
“Of course!” Mick said. He winked at Sarah. She wanted to disappear into her chair.
“Let’s talk about Earth,” the man in red robes said.
Sarah was immensely relieved that the conversation was moving to other topics, but she couldn’t help but notice that Mick’s air of confidence appeared to have been punctured by the mention of Earth. He glanced at her with what looked like nervousness.
“There are many Astrals who feel that our mother planet has gone astray and the time for reckoning has arrived. Many voters feel it’s time to… sever ties.”
“What did he mean by that?” Sarah interjected. Mick waved at her to stop, but Sarah wasn’t in the least bit inclined to stop.
Mick smiled indulgently at Mr. Simon and to the cameras. “You’ll love my running mate if you get to know her better.”
Sarah slammed her hand on her chair and didn’t care how many people on their Astral Tellys saw it.
“Now then,” the man in red robes said, “do you want to destroy Earth?”
“What?! Why is he asking you that?” Sarah asked. “Why is that even a question?”
Sarah stared at Mick and he swallowed. It suddenly dawned on her what was happening. She remembered the meeting with the Valkyrians and how Mick promised General Gravy that he would get to destroy the target of his choosing… which must have been Earth. He had given away her planet with a handshake, and it had happened right under her nose without her even knowing. She clenched her hands into fists and tried to figure out what she was going to do about it.
“Answer the question please,” Mr. Simon said. “Do you want to destroy Earth?”
Mick put his head down and shook it. “No, I don’t.”
That didn’t answer Sarah’s question. The issue wasn’t whether he wanted to destroy Earth, but whether he had already agreed to let it happen. She stood up. “Did you promise the Valkyrians that you would let them destroy Earth when the campaign is over?”
Mick wiped his face and stood up. He smiled, but Sarah could tell his expression was fake. “I sure did,” he said. “And ladies and gentlemen of outer space, look closely. I have an Earther representative as my running mate.” He smiled his best cocky grin. “Would some say that this is a sign that Earthers see the wisdom in having their planet blown to bits? Thank you, Sarah, for asking that very important question.”
Sarah lunged at Mick and tackled him to the floor.
Jacob Wonderbar wasn’t exactly sure what eating corndogs had to do with being president of the universe, but if he had to eat more corndogs than Mick Cracken in order to win the first Battle Supreme, that was exactly what he was going to do.
Catalina explained that Father Albert had been a big fan of corndogs before blasting off into space, and consuming them was something of an Astral sport and longstanding tradition. Thus the rules of the first battle, established by the Election Council, were quite simple: Eat as many corndogs as possible in the allotted time without throwing up. Whoever ate the most would win.
Dexter had suggested that Jacob practice eating large quantities of candy in order to stretch his stomach in anticipation of the big event, but Jacob ultimately decided that it was better to go in hungry. Though as a precautionary measure in case of a food overload emergency, he did take Dexter up on his offer to explain proper vomiting technique.
Soon they were interrupted mid-lesson when Catalina told them about Sarah Daisy’s assault on her running mate. Jacob and Dexter quickly tuned in to their Tellys and laughed hysterically as they watched Sarah tackle Mick. Dexter recorded a special slow-motion version and narrated the action.
“Okay. Here goes Mick. ‘Oh, why, thank you Sarah for asking about how I want to blow up Earth, thank you very much for that.’ Now watch Sarah’s face. Watch her. Notice the set in her jaw. The whiteness of her knuckles. Decision made: Kill. She jumps out of her chair, runs, and… Watch this. BAM! Tackles him to the floor! Down for the count! Let’s watch that again.” The footage rewound in front of Jacob, then started playing again. Sarah lunged at Mick again. “And… BAM! Oh, man.”
Jacob laughed, but Catalina was scowling.
“Fifteen percent,” she said. “That’s how many people plan to vote for us. If you guys think that was a great moment, think again. Sarah Daisy’s popularity among Astrals has skyrocketed after that little attack.” She sniffed and tipped up her chin. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they staged the whole thing.”
Dexter shook his head. “You can’t fake that kind of rage.”
“Well, either way,” Catalina said. “It was not good. Let’s hope Jakey here can eat corndogs like his life depends on it.”
Jacob swallowed and nodded. He would be a groundbreaking food-eating champion. He would eat until his intestines were made out of corndog batter.
He just hoped he would still be able to look at a corndog after it was all over. It would be a shame to no longer have corndogs in his life.
They arrived at Planet Royale a few hours later and walked proudly into the huge banquet hall, a room with soaring ceilings hung with the various coats of a
rms of previous Astral dynasties. Reporters were everywhere and shouted questions at Jacob, Dexter, and Catalina, but they ignored them. Boris walked proudly in front of the children, and when one of the reporters moved too close, Boris screeched and pushed him out of the way, looking extremely pleased with himself.
Jacob took his place at a table on a dais piled high with two mountains of corndogs and tried to focus on the task at hand. He wasn’t sure if he was more nervous about the upcoming competition or about seeing Sarah again.
There was a commotion at the back of the room as Sarah and Mick walked in. Mick tried to take Sarah’s hand, but Sarah pulled her hand away and pushed him.
Sarah and Jacob locked eyes, but then she looked away quickly.
Mick arrived on the dais and sat down next to Jacob.
Jacob said, “May the best man win,” and stuck out his hand. Mick stared straight ahead and left him hanging with his hand outstretched.
Jacob wondered if it was against the rules to impale Mick with a corndog stick.
The king stepped forward and the room immediately quieted. “It gives me great pleasure to commence this first Battle Supreme in the race for the presidency. I would like to thank the Election Council for overseeing the rules, and I congratulate these two fine young men on the campaigns they have run thus far. I wish them all the best of luck in the race ahead. The Planet Royale chef has taken great care to produce the finest corndogs humanity has ever eaten, so no doubt your task will be delicious as well as challenging. You will have twelve septometers to eat as many corndogs as possible, according to my watch.” Catalina had previously assured Jacob that twelve septometers was close to two and a half Earther minutes and ignored his rant about how Astral time still didn’t make any sense.
The king turned to face Jacob and Mick. “You may begin.”
Jacob quickly grabbed a corndog, pulled out the stick, and started chomping as fast as he could. The king was right. It was a fantastically delicious corndog, even better than the one he once had at Disneyland, previously the gold standard in corndog culinary excellence. But he didn’t have time to focus on the flavor. He needed to cram them down his gullet as fast as possible.
It wasn’t until after he finished his fourth corndog that Jacob noticed that Mick hadn’t started eating. He hadn’t even touched one of the corndogs. He was just sitting there smiling at the crowd.
“What are you doing?” Jacob asked between bites.
Mick looked at Jacob as if he had just noticed he was there. He patted Jacob on the back with mock concern and whispered, “I poisoned your corndogs.”
Jacob stopped chewing for a second and swallowed. “You’re lying.”
Mick kept on smiling. “The first symptom will be a tightening feeling in your stomach. Then you’ll start to feel warm in the face. And eventually you will throw up harder than you have ever thrown up in your life and you’ll be disqualified. I have this one in the bag.”
Jacob was indeed feeling a tightening in his stomach, but it could have been a result of eating a corndog and a half in less than twenty seconds. He kept on eating, but he couldn’t help but notice that his face was starting to feel a little warm. He slowed down his pace. At that precise moment, Mick grabbed a corndog and ate it in an incredible blur of chomps and swallows.
Jacob began to feel even more nauseated as he started chomping on his seventh corndog, and Mick was steadily gaining on him. As the cheering in the dining hall reached a fever pitch, Jacob felt another campaign event slipping away. Mick had psyched him out yet again, and Jacob felt so unsure of himself. It was an unfamiliar and horrible feeling. Back on Earth he had outlasted substitutes, beat up the MacKenzie twins two-on-one, pulled more pranks than anyone he knew. He had flown to outer space and back and broken the universe and lived to tell the tale. But no matter how good he tried to be in the campaign, nothing seemed to be working.
And then it hit him. He had been trying so hard to be good that somewhere along the way he had stopped being Jacob Wonderbar.
“Two septometers left,” the king shouted above the ruckus.
Jacob smiled at Mick, who seemed to sense that something important was about to happen. And then Jacob sneezed all over Mick’s corndogs. Mick finished the corndog he was eating and stared at his pile with his jaw hanging open.
Mick quickly recovered and seemed to be moving his mouth around in an attempt to collect saliva to spit on Jacob’s corndogs. But Jacob quickly grabbed two and shielded them from Mick. He chomped and chomped as quickly as he could, while Mick tried to eat his snot-covered ones gingerly, his eyes watering.
“Five… four… three…” the king chanted.
Jacob finished the last few bites of his corndog.
“Two… one…”
He swallowed and held up his thirteenth stick.
“Time!” the king shouted.
Jacob looked over at Mick. He’d only eaten twelve.
Jacob Wonderbar was back.
As soon as the first Battle Supreme was over, Sarah Daisy slipped out of the banquet hall and back aboard Mick Jr. before anyone noticed she was gone. She smiled a little when she pictured the look on Mick’s face when Jacob sneezed all over his corndogs, and she was proud of Jake for finally showing the universe what he was made of. But she couldn’t talk to him or the reporters or anyone else. She needed some time to think.
“What are you doing here?” Mick Jr. sneered when she stepped on board.
“Leave me alone,” she said.
“I’m going to tell master that you’re here.”
She kicked a wall, even if it wouldn’t hurt Mick Jr. since he couldn’t feel pain. “If you tell him I’m here I’ll program you to fly straight into a star before anyone even knows you’re missing.”
She waited a few seconds for a response, and Mick Jr. finally said, “You’re just mad because I’m such an amazing spaceship.”
Sarah grabbed her own hair and pulled it. She didn’t have time to argue with a conceited bucket of plastic and gears.
She plopped down on her lavender comforter and tried to decide what she should do. She had been so focused on stopping Jacob Wonderbar from winning the election so that they could go home, she hadn’t even realized that Mick was helping with a plot to destroy her planet. Even if she suspected that Mick wouldn’t have the heart to blow up Earth while she was on it, she had seen enough of the crazy Valkyrians to know that they would jump at the opportunity. Most Astrals seemed to think that Earth was just a backward, war-torn, polluted place. It was easy to blow up a planet when you didn’t stop to think that there were good people living there.
Still, the election had given her an opportunity to show Astrals that Earthers weren’t so bad after all, and her fight with Mick had improved her poll numbers. She was a little flattered that after she attacked Mick the Astrals had started to think she was one of them.
It wasn’t as if Mick made the promise to the Valkyrians on Planet Veritas. Maybe the pledge to let them blow up Earth was one of the many promises he intended to break. Maybe the best thing she could do would be to become so popular herself that the idea of blowing up Earth would become unthinkable.
Her Telly announced, “Call from Jacob Wonderbar.”
She stared at the Telly and thought about talking to Jacob, but she didn’t know what she would say. She just wasn’t ready. “Ignore,” she said.
She heard footsteps outside her room, and she jumped up and found Mick in the hallway. She could tell he was furious about losing.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “Please… Don’t say the word corn…” He gagged and steadied himself and said, “Well, you know. That word. Ever again.”
Sarah crossed her arms. “We need to talk.”
He shrugged and waited for her to say something. He was scowling and clearly did not want to talk to her, but she at least preferred a surly expression to his normal conceited cockiness.
“I want to know if you’re really planning on letting the Valkyrians blow up Ear
th.”
Mick rubbed his temples and sighed. “We need to start planning your introduction rally. Earth is the least of our worries right now.”
“It’s not the least of my worries! Has it ever occurred to you that my parents and my sisters and my friends are on that planet?”
“Yes,” Mick snapped. “I know. Your family and your friends and everything and everyone you care about in the universe are on Earth. I get it.”
Sarah was a bit taken aback by Mick’s heated tone. “Well, not everyone I care about,” she said.
Mick leaned against the wall and rubbed his nose. “All I’ve ever wanted since I was little was to be president. Not king. President. I wanted to earn it. I didn’t want it handed to me and for everyone to just think I was in charge because of who my dad was. And I promised myself I would do whatever it takes to get it.” He gave her a pointed look. “Whatever it takes. Including convincing my dad to give up his throne. It’s the right thing for everyone, and I’m going to be a great president.”
Sarah didn’t say anything. She remembered how vehement Mick had been about democracy when they had been captured by the royal guards on her last trip to space, but at the time he seemed far more concerned with being the universe’s greatest space pirate than becoming the future president of everything.
He leaned in to look at her straight in the eye. “But look. I appreciate you helping me out on this campaign. I couldn’t do this without you. If I win I’ll stop the Valkyrians from destroying Earth. I promise. Earth will be fine.”
Sarah nodded and gave him a sweet smile and said, “Thanks, Mick. I trust you.”
Mick stumbled away toward his stateroom holding his stomach.
Sarah most certainly did not trust him. She was quite sure he was lying about saving Earth. But in that moment she realized that she would have a better chance of stopping the Valkyrians if she were vice president. Earth needed someone influential on the inside of the Astral government. Even if that meant she would have to stay in space after all, she knew she had to do it to protect her planet.
Jacob Wonderbar for President of the Universe Page 9