by Greg Trine
“Raymond?”
Jasper nodded.
“Who?” asked Jo. “Where?” She also wanted to know why and how, but who and where were good enough for starters.
Jasper told them as much of the story as he knew, all about the dancing bacon, the chloroform, the getaway vehicle, and what was painted on the side—DR. DASTARDLY, MAD SCIENTIST, FREE ESTIMATES.
“There were three of them,” Jasper said, “if you count the bacon.”
Dr. Dastardly and Numb Skull, Jo thought. She had heard about their prison break. But who was the third member of the evil trio? Jo had no idea, and she couldn’t waste any more time trying to figure it out. Raymond was in trouble.
She fired up the Schmomobile and was about to hit the gas when Jasper said, “They also kidnapped three boys.”
“Wow,” Grandpa Joe said, “that’s some pretty ambitious bacon.” Then he turned to his granddaughter. “Go get ’em, Jo!”
“Yoo-Hoo!”
If you were walking along in the abandoned warehouse district, and you wandered past a concrete building with an iron door, you might hear things like Pow, Crash, Thud, Plop . . . and now and then SPROINK!
If you were inside the concrete building with the iron door, you’d see a dog with a look on his face that said, “Ouch,” and “I am one miserable mutt.”
This would be Raymond. And he really was one miserable mutt. He had tried hundreds of times to get up in the air while thinking lofty thoughts. Not only thoughts like Truth, Justice, and All dogs are created equal, but other lofty thoughts, such as Kindness and Forgiveness and Don’t drink out of the toilet.
But none of it worked, and Raymond was getting tired of crashing to the floor.
“If only I had stayed away from that bacon,” his look said.
Of course, he couldn’t have. Bacon was his favorite, and a giant piece of it dancing in the moonlight was irresistible . . . and rather yummy.
“That’s it!” Raymond’s look said as he got to his feet. “Bacon is the loftiest thought of all!”
Bacon, he thought, and leaped into the air.
This time he didn’t crash to the floor. He kept going up.
Bacon, he thought again, and he went a little higher.
Bacon. He rose higher still.
And before you could say “Raymond flew to the top of the room and crashed through the window,” Raymond flew to the top of the room and crashed through the window.
“Free at last!” his look said. He flew above the abandoned warehouse district and out over the bay. He dove toward the water. Then he rose up again, getting the hang of his new superpower. He zigged and zagged. He sped up and slowed way down until he was almost hovering in place.
Finally, he started for home. “Jo Schmo has got to see this,” Raymond’s look said, and he headed back to Crimshaw Avenue.
Jo Schmo would have been proud of her flying sidekick, but she wasn’t home. She was racing through the streets of the abandoned warehouse district, searching for him.
How do I find Raymond? Jo asked herself. The answer was easy: Where you find large amounts of drool, you find Raymond. After all, he drooled way more than any dog ever drooled in the long history of drooling.
Jo looked around, heading down one street after another, looking for something wet and drool-like shimmering in the moonlight. So far nothing but dry pavement.
And then—
There it was. Something was seeping out from beneath an iron door on a concrete building.
“Drool,” Jo said out loud as she pulled to a stop. “Raymond, are you in there?”
No answer.
High above the door, there was a broken window. “Sponge cake,” Jo said. This was the lofty thought that caused her to get off the ground. She flew to the top of the building and in through the broken window. But there was no dog in sight.
Drool everywhere, but no Raymond.
Dr. Dastardly was in his lair, along with Numb Skull, Pinkbeard, and three of Jo’s classmates. Kevin, Mitch, and David were bound and gagged, but you could still see that Kevin had great hair, Mitch looked spectacular in his green pajamas, and now in the light, David’s freckles clearly were as adorable as ever.
The lair was next to the concrete building where the villains had been keeping Raymond. They didn’t know that the dog had escaped, but now they could hear Jo calling for him.
Dr. Dastardly opened the door and stuck his head out. “Yoo-hoo! Jo Schmo!”
By now Jo was on the street again. “Where’s my dog?” she said. “What have you done with him, Dr. Dastardly?”
“Come in and see for yourself,” he replied.
You might be thinking that Jo should have smelled a trap. After all, this was Dr. Dastardly she was dealing with. But Jo was too worried about Raymond to think much of anything. Plus, it was the middle of the night, and her brain was still half asleep.
Too bad.
Jo Schmo went inside and came face to face with not her favorite pet, but her three weaknesses, Kevin, Mitch, and David.
She fell to her knees and let out a feeble, “Yikes!”
“Now what?” asked Numb Skull.
Dr. Dastardly didn’t say anything. He had Jo Schmo in his clutches, but what should he do next? He was a mad scientist, not an expert in revenge.
“Amateurs,” Pinkbeard said. “Follow me. I know exactly what to do with her.”
“Arrrgh!”
Dr. Dastardly glanced over at Pinkbeard. “You know what to do? Really?”
“I’m a pirate,” Pinkbeard said. “I do this kind of thing for a living.”
“So what’s the plan?” Dr. Dastardly felt a little strange asking someone else what the plan was. He was used to other people asking him what the plan was. Still, if Pinkbeard had one, Dr. Dastardly was all ears.
“Grab the girl and the boys and follow me,” Pinkbeard said.
“Where to?” asked Numb Skull.
“Back to my ship,” the pirate commanded.
Dr. Dastardly crossed his arms. “And the plan is?”
“We’ll have the lass walk the plank.”
“Good plan.”
When they got to Pinkbeard’s ship, they saw all the other pirates drinking grog and celebrating their escape from jail.
“Nice work,” Pinkbeard said to Bart. Then he turned to his men and began barking out commands. Soon the ship was heading into the deep waters of the bay.
Jo Schmo, whose feet and hands were now bound tight, could do nothing. As long as Kevin, Mitch, and David were near, Jo was just an ordinary fourth grade girl with no superpowers at all.
“Sorry, guys,” she said. “I’m all out of strength today.”
Bart tied a blindfold over Jo’s eyes and shoved her out onto the plank. Then he poked her with the end of his sword. “Keep moving, sister.”
Jo inched forward along the plank while Dr. Dastardly, Numb Skull, and Pinkbeard looked on.
“Revenge time,” said Pinkbeard. He almost added, “Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!” but he had to wait for Jo to hit the water. Then he’d celebrate.
Bart gave Jo another poke with his sword as she stood at the very end of the plank. “One more step, please.”
Jo heard the splash of the black waters of the bay. She felt the tip of the sword in her back. And then—
“Look, up in the sky!”
“It’s a bird.”
“It’s a plane.”
“No, it’s that slobbering sidekick.”
Yes, it was the slobbering sidekick. Raymond swooped out of the sky like a crop-dusting plane and laid down a patch of drool on the deck of the ship. Then he doubled back and did it again. Pirates started slipping all over the place. It was like a hockey match. One pirate slammed into another pirate, who slammed into another. Some fell overboard.
Pinkbeard pulled out his pistol and fired. But Raymond was too quick for him.
“Arrrgh!” yelled Pinkbeard, which is code for “Stay still so I can shoot you.”
But
Raymond did not stay still. He was too busy laying down drool all over the ship. Even on the . . . uh . . . poop deck.
Jo Schmo was blindfolded and couldn’t see a thing. But she heard it. Did someone mention Raymond? Had he come to her rescue? In the middle of the bay?
Jo had to find a way to help. She took a step.
Unfortunately, it was a step in the wrong direction. She fell from the plank into the freezing waters of the bay, and down she went.
Glub, glub.
Glub, Glub
Jasper “Scoop” Johnson didn’t get his job back, even though he had written a great story about a trio of bad guys and a quadruple kidnapping. But Jasper didn’t care. He really liked going into Jo’s backyard and pulling on that string. He liked helping a superhero.
And now as he sped across the bay on his Jet Ski toward a pirate ship, he said, “Maybe Jo Schmo could use another sidekick.”
Catching bad guys for a living sounded like way more fun than writing about them.
“That’s strange,” he said as he neared the pirate ship. “It looks like they’re having a hockey match on deck.”
Jasper watched as pirate slammed against pirate. Some fell overboard.
And then he spotted Jo Schmo. But she wasn’t the superhero he’d written about. This looked like an ordinary girl, tied up, standing on the end of a plank.
Suddenly, this ordinary girl plunged into the bay.
Jasper pulled back hard on the throttle, and the Jet Ski picked up speed. He skipped over the waves. When he reached the pirate ship, he hit the brakes.
Jet Skis don’t have brakes, but you get the idea.
Jasper dove after Jo Schmo. Luckily, he had on his glow-in-the-dark wetsuit. It gave off just enough light so he could see what he was doing. And what he was doing was saving a tied-up superhero.
As Jo Schmo sank into the freezing waters of the bay, she got farther and farther away from the ship and farther and farther from Kevin, Mitch, and David. And the farther she got from her weaknesses, the stronger she felt.
Strong enough to break the ropes.
Only breaking the ropes wasn’t enough. Jo couldn’t swim.
A superhero who doesn’t know how to swim? I know . . . Go figure.
Jo kicked her arms and legs, but it didn’t help. She continued to sink . . . and worse, a glowing sea creature was coming at her from above.
This is a very bad day, Jo thought. Drowning is bad enough. Now I’m going to be eaten by a glow-in-the-dark sea monster.
She gave the monster a look that said, “Please don’t eat me.”
Jasper “Scoop” Johnson was not a glow-in-the-dark sea monster. He wasn’t a sea monster at all. He was a former renowned newspaperman and former aspiring children’s book writer who was now trying to become a superhero’s sidekick.
He had to rescue Jo Schmo for that to happen.
As he swam deeper, he saw Jo give him a look that said, “Please don’t eat me.”
Please don’t eat her? He wouldn’t think of such a thing.
Jasper grabbed Jo by the cape. Then he opened his mouth to tell her that he didn’t eat superheroes—besides, he was a vegetarian. He was there to rescue her.
But when he opened his mouth to explain, seawater poured in. Lots of seawater.
Jasper and Jo sank to the bottom of the bay.
Jo Gretzky
Jo Schmo was relieved that it was just someone in a glow-in-the-dark wetsuit, not a sea monster with an appetite. She gave him a look that said, “We’re underwater—try not to speak.”
Too late. Jasper tried to give her a look that said something, but he was too busy drowning.
And that’s when someone grabbed him from above. Jasper, who was still holding on to Jo Schmo’s cape, felt himself being dragged toward the surface.
And just in time, too.
Seconds later, Jasper and Jo broke the surface and gulped a breath of fresh air. Make that three breaths of fresh air. Then they looked over at their mystery rescuer.
It was Raymond, who was giving them a look that said, “Ta-da!”
“Get the boys, Raymond,” Jo said.
Bacon, Raymond thought. He flew up to the deck of the ship, grabbed Kevin by the collar, and took off with him.
Jasper climbed up the anchor chain and untied Mitch and David. Then the three of them climbed down to Jasper’s Jet Ski.
As the boys raced away from the ship, Jo’s full superhero strength returned.
“Sponge cake!” she yelled, and she rose out of the water. She flew up to the deck of the ship and joined in the hockey match, skating over the slobber like Wayne Gretzky. She body-checked a few of the pirates over the side, even the ones on the . . . uh . . . poop deck.
Bart came at her with his sword, but Jo was too quick for him.
CHOP! The Tasmanian Chop worked perfectly.
Then she went after Numb Skull.
CHOP!
Dr. Dastardly.
CHOP!
And Pinkbeard.
CHOP!
By this time Raymond, who had dropped Kevin off on the Golden Gate Bridge, had come back to help. Raymond wasn’t the best hockey player in the world . . . but he wasn’t bad.
More pirates came at them.
CHOP! CHOP!
When the chopfest was complete, Jo got busy tying up the trio of bad guys, along with the others. Raymond tried to help, but he didn’t have hands.
Word got around that a rowdy hockey match was happening on a pirate ship in the middle of the bay. The Coast Guard cruised by to investigate. It was a hockey match, all right. They could see a girl in a red cape, skating around like Wayne Gretzky, bumping into people.
Not just people . . . pirate people.
“You’re under arrest,” the captain of the Coast Guard called out. He really wanted to watch the hockey match. But he knew pirates when he saw them. He also recognized Jo Schmo.
“Thanks, Jo. We’ll take it from here.”
Jo nodded. “Sponge cake,” she said, and up she went.
Bacon, Raymond thought, and joined her.
Together they flew across the bay, heading back to Crimshaw Avenue. Jo glanced over at her dog with new admiration. He’d survived being kidnapped by a giant piece of bacon, he’d saved her life . . . and now here he was flying beside her.
“You’re the coolest flying dog I know,” Jo told him.
Raymond gave her a look that said, “You’re not so bad yourself.”
A few minutes later they touched down lightly in Jo’s backyard, where Grandpa Joe was waiting for them. “How’d it go?” he asked.
Jo smiled. “Jo and Raymond, eight; bad guys, nothing.”
You might be saying to yourself, “Hooray for Jo, but didn’t Raymond leave Kevin all alone in the middle of the night on the Golden Gate Bridge?”
I know . . . Go figure.
Bad Guys? What Bad Guys?
Now that the evil Dr. Dastardly was behind bars, all was quiet in San Francisco. Bank robbers stopped robbing, jewel thieves stopped thieving, cat burglars stopped bothering cats . . . and Jo Schmo didn’t know what to do with herself. Jo was a crime fighter, and right now there were no crimes to fight. So she went into her backyard and banged on the door of her grandpa’s shack. Her grandpa Joe, that is. It can get a little complicated when there are two Joes in one family—Jo and Joe. But more about that later. For now, Jo was banging on the door of . . . Joe.
“Who’s there?” the old man yelled.
“It’s Jo.”
“Joe?”
“No, Jo.”
“Oh, Jo. Thought I was talking to myself for a second there. Come in, Jo.”
Jo opened the front door to the shack and went inside. “I’m bored, Grandpa,” Jo began. “Bored with a capital B.”
This was true. Jo Schmo was bored. Bored with a capital B. And a capital O and a capital R and a capital . . . well, you get the idea. The only thing worse than being bored with a capital B was being bored with a capital X. If you were
bored with a capital X, it meant not only were you bored but also you’d lost your ability to spell.
“Bank robbers, car thieves, terrorists . . . I’m not picky, Grandpa,” Jo said.
“Not to worry, Jo,” Grandpa Joe said. “The bad guys must be taking a break. It happens.”
If there was anyone who understood crime fighting—and bad guys—it was Jo’s grandpa, who was a retired sheriff. “Thirty-five years in law enforcement, Jo. Trust me. The bad guys are just taking a break. Sooner or later something will happen and—”
“I’ll be there to stop them?”
“You’ll be there to stop them.”
Jo hoped so. Since capturing the evil Dr. Dastardly and his semi-evil assistant, Pete, Jo had been twiddling her thumbs, waiting for the next crime wave.
She’d settle for a crime ripple.
Jo made a fist. “Hope something happens fast, Gramps. My Knuckle Sandwich is starting to get rusty. If I don’t use it soon, I might forget how.” The Knuckle Sandwich was Jo’s favorite move. It was even more effective than the Siberian Ear Tweak.
Grandpa Joe moaned but said, “You can practice on me if you like.”
“Okay,” Jo said. “Put your face over here, Gramps.”
Grandpa Joe leaned closer.
Smack!
Nope. Jo Schmo’s Knuckle Sandwich wasn’t rusty at all.
Jo left her grandfather’s shack and hopped on the Schmomobile. Not every superhero had a supervehicle, but Jo did. The Schmomobile was a supercharged skateboard with a sidecar for her dog and sidekick, Raymond.
“Ready to catch some bad guys, Raymond?” Jo asked.
Raymond gave her a look that said, “Do I like fire hydrants? Are polar bears white? Can fish swim?” Well, you get the idea.