Slingshot and Burp

by Richard Haynes

  It was too late. Burp was tearing across the desert floor roadrunner-fast and showed no sign of stopping.

  When Slingshot finally caught up to Burp, his double cousin was facedown on the ground in his backyard, still clutching his chest.

  Looking up at Slingshot with hound-dog eyes, he whispered, “Take good care of Lightning for me when I’m gone.”

  “Burp, you’re not going anywhere. That’s no scorpion bite. The only thing that got you was the pebble from my slingshot. There’s no broken skin. I swear! Take a look for yourself.”

  Burp examined the angry red bump on his leg. “You zinged me? Why’d you do that?”

  “I was saving your life, remember? From the big hairy deadly scorpion.”

  “Oh,” said Burp, sitting up. “Ouch!” He plucked a cactus spine from his big toe. “Well, Big Jim sure was right about one thing.”

  “What’s that?” asked Slingshot.

  Burp yanked his boot out of Slingshot’s hand. “That Boneyard is no place for tenderfoots.”

  Back at Rattlesnake Ranch, Slingshot got an uneasy feeling. Something was not right. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

  “Hear what?” asked Burp, ducking and looking around.

  “That’s just it. Nothing,” said Slingshot. “Rattlesnake Ranch is too quiet.”

  “Oh, no. You’re right,” said Burp.

  “Let’s check it out,” said Slingshot. “The last thing we need now is a girl ambush.”

  Slingshot and Burp crept over to the bunkhouse, staying low to the ground, then burst through the door.

  Their mouths dropped open. “Jes-se James!” they wailed.

  There were no Scorpion sisters to be found, but the entire inside of the Rattlesnake Ranch bunkhouse was swimming in pink, pink, PINK! Pink streamers hung from the ceiling. Pink curtains decked the windows. Even pink flowers peeked out from cracks between the boards.

  A pink blanket in the middle of the table was piled with stuffed animals and dolls. Princess dolls. Rag dolls. Red-haired dolls. Frizzy-haired dolls. Brown-haired dolls. Dolls with bonnets. Troll dolls. Trouble dolls. Even dolls with lipstick, painted nails, and eyes that opened and closed. Lots of them had clips, ribbons, and bows in their hair. Half of them were wearing pink dresses.

  “Buffalo barf!” said Burp.

  “Rattlesnake Ranch is wrecked!” said Slingshot.

  “Wouldn’t you know it. We’re out on a serious cowboy mission and they turn our bunkhouse into a crazy hair place. Come on, Slingshot. Let’s show them who’s boss.” Each cowboy grabbed two dolls by the hair, hauled them outside, and lined them up on a bench.

  The dolls sat there, all lined up and smiling and trying hard to look pretty. Slingshot studied them. “They look suspicious to me, like they know something but won’t talk.”

  “Looks kind of like they’re having a picnic,” said Burp.

  The cowboys looked at each other. “A firing-squad picnic!” they yelled.

  Slingshot rushed into his house and came running back out with grapes. He loaded his Super-X with a plump purple one. Burp mashed up three with his teeth, then loaded them into his Double-Barreled Spitball Blaster.

  “Ready. Aim. Fire!” called Slingshot.

  Thwack!

  Thwap! Thwap!

  Ka-plunk!

  “I love you!” said the frizzy-haired doll, tumbling over.

  “Ready. Aim. Fire!” Burp called, and the cowboys fired again.

  In the end, all four dolls lay in a twisted heap, covered in slimy grape goo. “Bet these pink outlaws were working for Ma McKenzie,” said Slingshot.

  “And her partner, Calamity Kate,” said Burp.

  “Aaaah!”

  Spinning around, Slingshot and Burp saw two fist-clenching, teeth-grinding older sisters charging at them.

  “Massacre!” screeched Ma McKenzie.

  “Murder!” yelled Calamity Kate.

  Before you could say cow patty, Slingshot and Burp were marched into court. It was the worst court any cowboy could ever be hauled into: Mom-and-Dad court.

  Charge: Four counts of doll murder and destruction of doll property.

  Verdict: Guilty.

  Sentence: Grounded for two whole days.

  “Two lousy days in lockup,” grumbled Slingshot.

  “Jail!” muttered Burp.

  Two days felt like two years. When they were sprung, Slingshot had never been so happy to see his double cousin. He flopped down beside Burp on the ground. “Free,” said Slingshot. “Finally.”

  Burp nodded and let fly a real belly belcher. “What’d you do in jail?” he asked.

  “I went crazy and nuts both. I played checkers with myself, and I lost every single match. What about you?”

  “I almost lost my marbles,” said Burp. “I started thinking my pillow was making faces at me.”

  “I hate sitting in jail worse than sitting in a bubble bath,” said Slingshot.

  “Bubble baths are for babies,” agreed Burp.

  Slingshot and Burp spit at an ant that was crawling by carrying a dead fly. Their spit missed the ant but landed in front of four flip-flopped, painted-toenail girl feet.

  “You’d better never touch our dolls again, Cow Pies,” warned Ma McKenzie.

  Slingshot shot rattlesnake eyes at the girls. “That’s Slingshot and Burp to you, varmints. Take your dolls somewhere else. We want our bunkhouse back.”

  “Too bad. We’re using it now,” said McKenzie. “But don’t worry. We piled all your old grubby stuff out by the tree.” With that, the girls hurried inside the playhouse and closed the door.

  A sign appeared in the window. It read: NO COWBURPS ALLOWED.

  I’m so mad, I could bite a bone in half,” said Burp. He burped an angry burp that wasn’t even close to being any kind of song. “Ghost Cat or not, let’s get to the Boneyard and find Windy’s skeleton. We’ll bring him back and scare the pink and giggle right out of those girls.”

  “Yeah! And when we find Windy’s hidden loot, we can buy our own ranch,” said Slingshot. “No girls allowed. Ever!”

  Following Big Jim’s map, the cowboys retraced their steps.

  Slingshot mopped his brow with his bandanna. “We’re in Dry Springs,” he said.

  Burp took off his hat and fanned his face. “Sure is longer without horses,” he said.

  “We must be close,” said Slingshot. “Climb that rock and check.”

  Burp climbed up on a pockmarked hunk of sandstone and searched the horizon. “Hey, I see something glinting in the sun. It’s them. Thunder and Lightning!”

  In no time, the cowboys were back in the saddle, steering their horses around a sinkhole. They hadn’t gone six yards when they came upon a bleached white skull leaning against a prickly pear cactus.

  “Whoa! Check it out, Burp,” said Slingshot, dismounting. “A real dead skull.”

  “I call first touch,” said Burp.

  “No way. I saw it first,” said Slingshot.

  “Doesn’t matter who saw it first,” said Burp. “First one to touch it owns it.” Those were special double-cousin rules.

  “Mine!” called Slingshot, diving for the skull.

  “Mine!” called Burp, diving at the exact same time.

  Slingshot elbowed and shoved. Burp yanked and tugged.

  “Yow!” Both cowboys screamed when their knuckles smacked into the spines of the prickly pear cactus. Both boys let go of the skull and rolled around on the ground, coming eye to eye with the skull.

  Essss! A low sandy hiss blew out of the skull.

  “What was that?” said Slingshot, scrambling backward.

  Essss!

  “I’d say that was Windy’s ghost!” said Burp, scrambling behind Slingshot.

  “I dare you to get closer,” said Slingshot.

  “I double dare you to get closer,” said Burp.

  Slowly, carefully, they both leaned in and peered into the eye sockets.

  Blood shot out — splat! — plastering each boy in the f
ace.

  “Aaah!” Slingshot cried, falling all over himself. “It burns!”

  “It is! It is! It’s Windy’s ghost!” hollered Burp, tumbling over Slingshot in a rush to get far away from the haunted skull.

  “Bluck!” he said, spitting. “It tastes like vulture vomit.”

  Slingshot shoved his face into Burp’s. “You’re covered in blood!”

  “Hey! Don’t kiss me,” said Burp.

  “Is my face smeared with blood, too?”

  “Yeah! We both just got blasted by a ghost.”

  “Double aces! That’s perfect!” whooped Slingshot.

  “Perfect? Are you nuts?” said Burp.

  “Don’t you get it?” asked Slingshot. “We both got sprayed with blood. That makes us blood brothers.”

  “I thought you had to cut your finger or something,” said Burp.

  “Blood is blood. It’s official.”

  “Wow!” said Burp. “That’s even better than being double cousins.”

  The cowboy blood brothers shook on it, then turned back to the skull. The skull now sat silent as a stone.

  “Cover me. I’m going in,” said Slingshot. “If that skull moves so much as an inch, open fire.”

  “Got ya covered,” said Burp, raising his blaster.

  Slingshot moved a step closer. He took another step. And another.

  Esss! The skull hissed. The hiss was followed by another bloody squirt. Slingshot dove aside, trying to avoid the spray.

  “Maybe Windy is trying to tell us something. Maybe he really, really wants us out of here,” said Burp, backing up as if to leave.

  “But just think, Burp,” said Slingshot, “how that squirting skull would freak the Scorpion Sisters right out of their skins.”

  Burp stopped in his tracks. “They’d run so fast, their hair would catch fire,” he agreed.

  “All we have to do is get the skull back to the ranch.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Burp. “Uh . . . how?”

  “Just go ahead and grab it,” said Slingshot.

  “Me?” said Burp. “You grab it.”

  Essss!

  “Aaah!” Burp about jumped out of his skin.

  “I know. We can use the lassos,” said Slingshot.

  The cowboys wrapped the lasso rope around and around the blood-squirting skull, then wedged it between Slingshot’s handlebars. Sister-scaring time was only minutes away. . . .

  But when they roared back into the ranch, the girls were nowhere to be found.

  “Why are they always here when we don’t want them to be and never here when we do?” asked Burp.

  “Because they’re ornery varmints! Hey, I have an idea.”

  Slingshot first put on a pair of gloves, then set the roped-up skull on the ground and began unwrapping it.

  Essssss!

  “Watch it,” Burp said. “Where there’s a hiss, there’s blood.”

  Slingshot stopped when the skull was still half-wrapped.

  “Want to use it for target practice?” asked Burp, taking aim.

  “Only if it shoots first,” said Slingshot, crouching down for a closer look. “Hey, look! Something is moving inside the eyehole.”

  “Let me see!” Burp nudged Slingshot aside. “It’s like a hairy eyeball. Maybe Windy’s ghost is a blood-squirting zombie skull,” he said nervously.

  “Hey, watch it! It’s popping out.” Slingshot shoved Burp and they dove behind the wheelbarrow. Plop! A brown sandy lump sat next to the skull. It immediately puffed up to twice its size. Essss!

  Burp covered his eyes with his arms. “W-W-Windy, stop scaring us. We come in peace. We’re just regular cowboys, not the law.”

  “That’s no ghost,” said Slingshot, peeking. “It’s some kind of prehistoric frog or something. Or a mutant gecko with spikes.”

  Burp uncovered his eyes. “Hey! I’ve seen one of them before. In a book.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s called a horny frog. No, I mean horny toad. But horny toads aren’t really toads — they’re lizards. Those spikes are horns.”

  The horny toad’s long tongue shot out and snapped up a passing red ant. Gulp!

  “Wow! Did you see how fast it did that?” said Slingshot.

  “Pick it up,” said Burp.

  “No way. You pick it up,” said Slingshot.

  Snap. Thwip. Gulp!

  Snap. Thwip. Gulp!

  Two more ants disappeared in a blink.

  Slingshot took a deep breath, leaned over, and scooped up the horny toad.

  “Whoa,” said Burp. “You’re braver than Wild Bill Hickok.”

  The horny toad lizard just sat there, in the middle of Slingshot’s hand. There was no hiss. No squirting blood. It un-puffed, then blinked its eyes. Tiny drops of blood pooled in the corner of each eye.

  “Hey! It must shoot the blood from out of its eyes,” said Burp.

  “Think we should keep it?” asked Slingshot.

  “I guess, yeah! But it needs a name!”

  “How about . . . Spike?” asked Slingshot.

  “Nah! How about . . . Thumbtack?” asked Burp.

  “Nah!”

  They studied the pointy lizard in Slingshot’s hand a little longer.

  Burp burped a tune and finally said, “How about Bloody Eyes?”

  “Double aces!” said Slingshot, slipping the lizard back into the skull’s eye socket. “C’mon, Burp. We need to find the girls and let Bloody Eyes do some serious sister scaring.”

  “Shh!” said Burp, ducking behind the cottonwood tree. “I think I hear them coming.”

  Sure enough, from around the side of the playhouse came Ma McKenzie and Calamity Kate, hauling the garden hose and some buckets.

  “Look out, McKenzie,” said Kate in a mocking voice. “I see the Burpsey Twins hiding behind the tree.”

  “Attack!” Burp shouted. He shoved Slingshot and the skull straight at the girls. “Attack!”

  McKenzie dropped the buckets and turned the hose on them. The sudden blast of water knocked the boys sideways, and the skull fell to the ground.

  “Is that old thing supposed to scare us?” said Kate, popping her gum.

  “You’d better be scared,” said Burp. “It’s haunted!”

  “We’re not afraid of any old bleached-out bone,” said McKenzie.

  “Oh, yeah? Then I dare you to look closer,” said Slingshot.

  The girls nosed slowly in. McKenzie acted bored. Kate giggled nervously.

  Esssss!

  The girls froze. In the next blink, a squirt of blood came flying out of an eye socket.

  “Aaah!” The girls screamed like fire engines, dropped the hose and the other bucket, and ran to the playhouse.

  They yanked open the door. But before they could get inside, where it was safe, the playhouse erupted with barks, yaps, and howls. Slingshot and Burp were knocked over by a tornado of feet and fur.

  “Stampede!” they yelled, falling to the ground and covering their heads with their arms.

  Five frisky dogs jumped all over the cowboys.

  “They’re licking my face off!” said Burp. “Make them stop!”

  “Princess! Sugarbaby! Trixie!” called McKenzie, laughing. “Come!” Princess and Sugarbaby, the two standard poodles, ran back to her side.

  “First you pink our bunkhouse,” said Slingshot. “Then you fill it with poofy clown dogs.”

  “It’s our dog-sitting business,” said McKenzie. “We get extra for grooming them. We practiced on our dolls, until you messed them up.”

  “We call it Happy Tails!” said Kate, kneeling and scratching Princess behind the ears. Purple bows were stuck to the top of the poodle’s head. Two dogs had red nail polish painted on their claws. Another had ribbons and pom-poms dangling from its sparkly collar.

  Only a small, frisky pup didn’t obey the girls’ commands. It kept darting at the boys and nipping at their ankles. It had bristly desert-brown hair, gangly legs, and pointy white-tipped ears.

&
nbsp; “How come you don’t have this one all junked up?” asked Slingshot.

  “That one,” said Kate, clucking her tongue. “Can’t get him to sit still.”

  “He’s got wild in him,” said McKenzie. “Part coyote.”

  “Here, boy,” said Slingshot, tussling with the puppy. “You’re not afraid of a little dirt, are you? I’ll bet you just want to be free. You want to be a cowboy dog with us, don’t you?”

  “Guess what, Burp-Breaths,” said McKenzie, scooping up the pup. “The dogs are staying with us.”

  “Yeah,” said Kate. “We’re staying with them in the playhouse. Overnight.”

  “And since you killed our dolls,” said McKenzie, using a serious older-sister voice, “you two are on Pooper Scooper detail!”

  “You’re cracked!” said Slingshot. “We don’t have time for any poop scooping. We’ve got plans of our own.”

  “We do?” said Burp.

  “Yeah, we do!” Slingshot grabbed the skull and pulled Burp with him. “Forget them,” he said. “They’re crazy!”

  “So what’s our plan?” asked Burp.

  The plan took a solid hour of begging, pleading, and promising. Their parents finally agreed to let the boys camp out in the backyard, but they had to cross their hearts and double-cousin solemnly swear not to bother their sisters in the playhouse. No matter what!

  As the sun started sinking low, the boys spread their bedrolls beneath the cottonwood tree. It was cowboy camping at its best.

  “You hungry?” said Slingshot. “Being on the trail makes me hungry.”

  “How about beans and beef jerky?” asked Burp.

  “Every cowboy’s favorite,” said Slingshot.

  “I’ll grab it and be right back,” said Burp, taking off for his house.

  When Burp got back with beans and jerky, he pried off the lid and shoveled two cold heaping spoonfuls into his mouth. “Mm-mmm!”

  “My turn,” said Slingshot.

  The cowboys snorted, howled, and burped out “Home on the Range,” “Back in the Saddle Again,” and “Don’t Fence Me In.”

  “Double aces!” Slingshot hooted. “We’re cowboys on the open range.” They were so loud, they never heard the sisters coming.