by Dan Gutman
“We’re right here!” Mrs. McDonald said. “We have to go. If we didn’t go, I would spend the rest of my life regretting that I was in Middleton, Wisconsin, and didn’t visit the National Mustard Museum. This will be perfect for Amazing but True!”
Three pairs of eyes rolled. There was no arguing with Mrs. Bridget McDonald when she decided to do something. And she was right. The oddballs who read her website every day would love to learn about a museum devoted to mustard.
Dr. McDonald just sighed and drove to the center of Middleton, where Pep spotted a big sign over a storefront…
As soon as they walked into the museum, their eyes were assaulted by five thousand jars, bottles, and tubes of mustard from all fifty states and more than sixty countries. Polish mustard. Chinese mustard. Australian Outback mustard. There were also antique mustard pots, mustard tins, vintage mustard advertisements, and other assorted mustard memorabilia.
Dr. McDonald shook his head. As a respected history professor and author of The Impact of Coal on the Industrial Revolution, he was mystified by the fact that his research grant applications were frequently turned down, but somehow people managed to get funding to build museums devoted to hot dog condiments. He could have spent his summer researching his next book, but instead he was about to waste his money buying jars of mustard in a museum gift shop. Life wasn’t fair.
Mrs. McDonald got to work, snapping photos for her website and interviewing strolling mustard lovers about their personal mustard memories. She threw herself into her work, which was why her website was so successful. Even though she didn’t personally love mustard, she filled out a form to join the Mustard of the Month Club. So every month for a year, she would receive a new jar of mustard.
“Will you folks be here the first Saturday in August?” asked the man behind the cash register.
“No, we’re on our way to my sister’s wedding in Washington,” replied Mrs. McDonald. “I haven’t seen her in ten years.”
“Too bad,” the guy said. “The first Saturday in August is National Mustard Day. We have a lot of festivities planned…”
Coke and Pep looked at each other and mouthed the words, “Let’s get out of here.”
When they finally did get out of there, Mrs. McDonald was carrying a large shopping bag.
“I couldn’t resist,” she told the twins. “I bought you another birthday present.”
“Let me guess,” Coke said. “A jar of mustard?”
“Of course not!” Mrs. McDonald said. “I know you don’t like mustard. Go ahead. Open it.”
Coke opened the bag. Inside was a toilet seat, with these words printed on it:
POUPON U
“Get it?” Mrs. McDonald said. “Poupon is a kind of mustard.”
“We get it, Mom,” Pep said. “Can we go now?”
Coke and Pep had no idea what they were going to do with a Poupon U toilet seat, but they made sure to thank their mother and tell her it was just what they always wanted. You should always accept gifts from loved ones graciously, even if somebody has just given you the dumbest thing in the world.
Go to Google Maps (http://maps.google.com/).
Click Get Directions.
In the A box, type Middleton WI.
In the B box, type Fort Atkinson WI.
Click Get Directions.
The RV passed by Madison, the capital of Wisconsin. In the backseat, the twins amused themselves with crossword puzzles and playing cards, blissfully ignorant of the fact that soon they would be lowered into a vat of boiling oil. But you, fortunate reader, know it’s coming and are probably wondering when that exciting event will happen. Patience. And no skipping ahead!
Dr. McDonald was taking the scenic route, staying off the interstate highway, and enjoying the view. Less than an hour from the Mustard Museum, the RV entered the town of Fort Atkinson and rolled to a stop in the south side of the downtown area outside the Hoard Historical Museum.
“Why are we stopping here?” Pep asked, annoyance in her voice.
“Because this is the National Dairy Shrine Visitor’s Center,” Mrs. McDonald informed her.
“Dairy Shrine?” the twins said together.
And so it was, a shrine to all things dairy. The place was jam-packed with antique milking machines, a dog-powered butter churn, and even Elsie the Cow’s original blanket. Mrs. McDonald took notes for Amazing but True, while Dr. McDonald examined the dioramas of pioneer dairy life. The twins walked around, searching desperately for an exit sign.
“Look, kids,” Mrs. McDonald said enthusiastically. “The National Dairy Hall of Fame!”
On the “Wall of Pioneers” were Harvey D. Thatcher (inventor of the glass milk bottle), Arthur Baer (“World Authority on Ice Cream”), and Thorkeld “Tom” Knudsen (the developer of half-and-half).
“This place is a snooze fest,” Coke whispered to his sister.
“They don’t even have a cool gift shop,” Pep replied as she leafed through the only book for sale, A History of Dairy Marketing in America.
The twins would not have been so snarky if they had any idea that they would soon be dropped into a vat of boiling oil. But as you well know, they were clueless.
Thankfully, the McDonalds did not spend much time at the Dairy Shrine and were soon heading south and east on Route 12. In about an hour, they passed a sign…
“Woo-hoo!” Coke hollered. “Did you know that Illinois is called ‘The Land of Lincoln’ even though Abraham Lincoln was born in Kentucky?”
“Thank you, Mr. Know-It-All,” muttered Pep, who long ago had grown tired of her brother’s encyclopedic memory. “Are we going to stop soon? I’m getting hungry.”
“Soon, honey,” Mrs. McDonald said. “I know the perfect place to stop for dinner.”
Go to Google Maps (http://maps.google.com/).
Click Get Directions.
In the A box, type Fort Atkinson WI.
In the B box, type Des Plaines IL.
Click Get Directions.
“Where? Where?” the kids asked.
“You’ll see.”
The twins would have to remain in suspense for almost an hour, as they continued on Route 12 south and east through Illinois. Eventually they entered the town of Des Plaines, which is twenty miles outside of Chicago. Dr. McDonald took a right fork onto Lee Street and passed a motel, and then the familiar yellow arches came into view. He pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot.
“Here it is!” Mrs. McDonald announced.
“Fifteen cents for a burger!” Dr. McDonald exclaimed. “That’s a good deal!”
“What?” Pep asked. “It’s a McDonald’s. They have these everywhere.”
“We drove an hour just to go to McDonald’s?” asked Coke.
“Oh, it’s not just any McDonald’s,” Mrs. McDonald told them. “This is the first McDonald’s!”
“The first ever?” asked Pep as she got out of the RV. She was still wearing her Cheesehead.
Indeed it was. At this precise location—400 North Lee Street, Des Plaines, Illinois—the first McDonald’s opened on April 15, 1955. It was torn down in 1984, but a replica was built on the spot, sort of a museum to McDonald’s. Across the street was a modern McDonald’s restaurant.
“So this is where the decline of our civilization began,” said Dr. McDonald. “Chain restaurants, cheap, bland, standardized food, wasteful packaging, rampant obesity, the end of home cooking…”
“Don’t be such a downer, Dad!” said Coke. “This is sacred ground. This is where Happy Meals began! And Ronald McDonald. The Big Mac. Golden arches. Egg McMuffins. Supersizing. Extra Value Meals…”
“The Whopper,” added Pepsi.
“That’s Burger King, you dope.”
“Don’t call your sister a dope,” warned Mrs. McDonald.
The kids pressed their noses against the window to peer inside. It looked like a real McDonald’s, except there were antique milkshake machines, vintage ads, photos about the history of McDonald’s on the walls,
and some mannequins standing at the counter in old-time uniforms. Pep tried to pull open the door, but it was locked.
“I’m sorry, but the museum is closed today,” said a voice behind them.
The McDonald family turned around to see a chunky teenage boy standing before them. He was dressed in the same old-time uniform as the mannequins inside. He had pimples on his face, and a shock of red hair poked out from under his paper hat. The boy looked unmistakably like Archie, the comic-book character. If Archie could be cloned and stuffed, this kid would be the result. He appeared to be a few years older than the twins, maybe sixteen.
“Closed?” said Mrs. McDonald, putting her hands on her hips to indicate annoyance. “We drove all the way from California to see this!”
That wasn’t exactly true, but it gave more weight to Mrs. McDonald’s indignation.
“Well, you’re in luck,” said the teenager who looked just like Archie. “Our special mobile french fry exhibit is visiting here today. Your kids will love it!”
He pointed to an eighteen-wheeler truck at the far end of the parking lot. It had a big picture of Ronald McDonald on the side, and the words THE MULTIMEDIA WORLD OF FRENCH FRIES.
That seemed to mollify Mrs. McDonald somewhat. She took her hands off her hips.
“Maybe we should go eat first before we do this,” Dr. McDonald said. “We’re all pretty hungry for dinner.”
“This exhibit will only be here for a little while,” the teenager said. “I have to go set up another exhibit in Washington. And I’m sorry, but the demonstration is just for kids thirteen and under. No grown-ups allowed.”
“Today is our birthday!” Pep said. “We just turned thirteen.”
“Well, happy birthday!” the Archie clone said. “The french fry show takes only about half an hour. Do you want to see it?”
“How much does it cost?” Mrs. McDonald asked as she fished in her purse for her wallet.
“It’s completely free,” the kid said as he pulled two tickets out of his pocket. “Come on, you deserve a break today.”
“Of course it’s free,” Dr. McDonald grumbled. “It’s a half-hour commercial for McDonald’s. They use it to get innocent children addicted to fast food. They should pay us to let our kids see this junk.”
“I don’t know if I want to do it,” Pep said, eyeing the eighteen-wheeler.
“Oh, go ahead, honey,” encouraged Mrs. McDonald. “It sounds like fun. While you’re in there, your dad and I can go check out the Square Deal Shoe Store. I read in the guidebook that the tallest man in the world, Robert Wadlow, used to live around here. He wore size twenty-six shoes, and they have one on display at the store. It’s just two blocks from here.”
While their parents went to look for the largest shoe in the world, Coke and Pep followed Archie clone to the big truck.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Pep whispered to her brother as they walked across the parking lot. “We don’t know this kid. He could do anything to us.”
“Will you relax for once in your life?” Coke whispered back. “The kid is a nerd. He’s harmless. Look at him. He looks just like Archie from the comics.”
“You probably think I’m kind of nerdy,” Archie clone said.
“No! Not at all!” Coke and Pep said together.
“Guys at school used to make fun of me,” he continued, “but it doesn’t bother me anymore.”
Actually, Coke felt a little sorry for Archie clone, having to wear a silly uniform and drive around doing demonstrations for McDonald’s. It seemed like a lousy summer job. And having to walk around your whole life as the spitting image of Archie must be no picnic either.
“It’s minimum wage, but there are fringe benefits,” Archie clone said, almost as if he could hear what Coke had been thinking.
“I hope we get free samples,” Pep whispered to her brother. “Remember the time we went to Hershey Park and they gave us free samples at Chocolate World?”
“That was cool.”
“Your Cheeseheads rock,” Archie clone said cheerfully. “I’m into hats myself. I’ve always been fascinated by the things that people choose to wear on their heads. At home I have a collection of hundreds of hats. Do you think that’s weird?”
“No,” Coke and Pep lied.
“I guess you and your parents drove down through Wisconsin.”
“Yeah,” Pep said. “We tried cheese curds for the first time.”
“Yum!” the Archie clone said. “Can I assume you kids like our french fries too?”
“Oh yes,” Pep replied. “We love them.”
“At McDonald’s, we peel, slice, freeze, and cook two million pounds of potatoes every day,” Archie clone told them, having obviously memorized his speech. “Americans consume an average of about fifty pounds of fresh potatoes and thirty pounds of frozen fries each year. McDonald’s is the largest buyer of potatoes in the United States.”
“Dude, you sure know a lot about french fries,” Coke said, hiding a sneer.
“It’s my job to know,” Archie clone replied.
“Anybody ever say that you look like that character Archie from the comics?” Coke asked.
“Every day,” Archie clone replied. “People call me Archie Clone.”
Archie Clone pushed a button on the back of the eighteen-wheeler. The doors swung open to reveal a gigantic display. It was like a rolling museum devoted to all things potato. Video monitors lined the walls, depicting the planting, harvesting, storing, cooking, and eating of potatoes. In the center was an enormous wire basket, like the kind that is used to make french fries.
“This is cool!” Coke said, as the platform they were standing on raised them up to the level of the truck. “Is this one of those virtual reality rides?”
“You might say that,” Archie Clone said, pushing the button again to close the door behind them. “It’s an interactive, hands-on, 3-D experience, sort of like the ones they have at Disneyland.”
He led the twins up a set of stairs and helped them climb into the big wire basket.
“Is it going to be scary?” asked Pep.
“A little,” Archie admitted as he closed the top of the basket. “But the scary part doesn’t last long. The cool thing is, you’ll get to see the process of making french fries, from the point of view of the spud itself.”
“Isn’t this exciting?” Pep said. “We’re going to be like potatoes!”
Coke glanced over at Archie Clone and noticed a wicked little smile at the corners of his mouth. It was at that moment Coke realized he and his sister were not on a virtual reality ride. This truck wasn’t part of the McDonald’s museum. They weren’t at a mobile exhibit about french fries.
They had stumbled into a trap!
“Hey!” Coke shouted, grabbing and shaking the wire basket that now surrounded them. “We changed our minds. We don’t want to do this.”
But it was too late. Under the basket, gallons of oil had begun to pour into a large pool. Steam was coming off the oil, and it was bubbling. Coke and Pep could smell it. It smelled like something cooking.
“W-what’s going on?” Pep stammered, grabbing her brother’s hand.
Archie Clone looked at them, grinning from ear to ear.
“This is my favorite part of the job,” he said. “Remember those fringe benefits I told you about?”
He pushed a button, and the wire basket dropped a few inches. It was attached to a large motor and gear system.
“You don’t even work for McDonald’s!” Coke shouted, pointing at Archie Clone.
“Nope,” he replied. “I work for a different employer. I think you may have heard of him—Dr. Herman Warsaw.”
Chapter 3
THE EVIL ARCHIE CLONE
Of course, Coke and Pep knew all about Dr. Herman Warsaw. He was the lunatic who had chased them halfway across the United States, lured them to The House on the Rock, and tried to kill them there. Instead, it was Dr. Warsaw who met his end tumbling out of The Infinity Room to t
he rocks below.
But none of that mattered right now, because the twins were trapped in a ten-foot-tall wire cage that was hanging a few feet over a pool filled with boiling oil.
See? I told you Coke and Pep would be lowered into boiling oil. But you didn’t believe me. Maybe you’ll trust me from now on.
The gears turned slowly, and the cage dropped a few more inches.
“Help! Help!” Pep screamed as she shook the cage violently. “Let us out!”
“Save your breath,” Archie Clone said. “This truck is totally soundproof. A heavy metal band could do a concert in here and the people standing outside wouldn’t hear a peep.”
“Are you going to drive us somewhere and kill us?” Pep asked desperately.
“No, of course not,” Archie Clone replied. “I’m going to kill you right here. Or to be more specific, I’m going to fry you right here. Hey, you kids aren’t French by any chance, are you? That would be ironic!”
The cage dropped a few more inches. Pep shrieked and began to climb up the sides. Coke desperately looked around for a way out. The bottom of the cage was about a foot above the boiling oil.
“Dr. Warsaw is dead!” Coke shouted at Archie Clone. “We were there! We saw it happen! You don’t need to kill us anymore!”
“It doesn’t matter to me if Dr. Warsaw is dead or alive,” Archie Clone said, still smiling.
“Then why are you doing this?” Pep yelled. “We never did anything to you. We never even met you before today.”
“True, you didn’t,” Archie Clone said, “but the three of us have something in common.”
“What?” Coke asked.
“TGF,” Archie Clone said. “You know what that stands for, don’t you?”
The Genius Files.
“You’re one of us?” Pep shouted. The cage dropped a few more inches, and she climbed higher. The top of the cage prevented her from climbing all the way out.