Mr. Chickee's Messy Mission Read online

  Steven said, “Hired by who?”

  “Oh, you think you're the only ones who want to leave? Your talking thumb drive was right, you aren't a real smart group, are you? Nearly everyone who has had some kind of contact with those bums from Yourside is trying to find a way to their world.”

  Russell said, “They're all trying to get to Earth?”

  “Earth? Oh, I see now! You guys are Yoursiders! That explains why you're such morons.” He frowned and said, “And that's where that cool thumb drive came from. You guys get all the cool toys there.”

  Richelle said, “Listen, there's one Guide that that list says is still in. We want to hire him.”

  The kid chuckled. “Oh, really? Don't you wonder why he's the only one who hasn't been hired?”

  Steven said, “Yeah, I don't get it. If everyone's so desperate to get out of here, how come no one has chosen him?”

  The dictionary said, “Word of warning, if you notice the number after the remaining Guide's name, you'll see it is five hundred and forty-one. That is a listing of how many generations his particular family has been guides.”

  Richelle said, “Oh, so does that mean since he's got so much experience he's too expensive to hire?”

  The kid laughed. “Nope. We all cost the same.”

  Steven said, “Then why hasn't anyone taken him?”

  Great-great-grampa Carter's dictionary said, “Not only is his family extremely experienced at guiding, they've also had many, many years of practicing being obnoxious and sullen and surly. I'm afraid he's still here because nobody can put up with his attitude.”

  Richelle said to the teenager, “What about you? Can't you guide us?”

  The kid said, “Me? You think I'm one of the Sullen Guides?”

  Russell said, “Sure, you're pretty mean. Is everybody in Ourside so hard to get along with?”

  The teenager said, “Not at all. There are some folks here who are quite pleasant, but I stay away from them, I wouldn't want any of that niceness rubbing off on me.”

  Russell said, “Yeah, Mummy always tells me if you run around with dogs, you end up with fleas. Or is it if you run around with hogs, you end up with cheese? Or maybe it was if you roll around on logs, you end up—”

  Richelle said, “Russell! Please! Time's wasting and we've got to get to this place.”

  She turned to the sullen teenager. “All right, we'll take the last Guide, whoever he is. How do we do it?”

  The kid smiled and said, “Believe me, it'll be my pleasure to introduce you to Mr. Marvin Surly-Guide, I'll go get him.”

  He walked out of the room and it sounded like he banged a bunch of pots and pans together. A second later he walked back in.

  He said, “Morons from Yourside, I'd like to introduce you to the most wonderful of the Sullen Guides, the most intelligent, the most well-loved and also the handsomest of all of the Guides!”

  The Flint Future Detectives waited and watched the doorway that the kid had just walked through.

  Finally Richelle said, “Well?”

  The teenager said, “Well what?”

  “Well, where is he?”

  “Right here! It's me!”

  Richelle's eyes rolled. “Are you kidding?”

  The teenager said, “When I said ‘the handsomest of all of the Guides,’ it should've been a dead giveaway. Sort of like asking, what color is the little brown jug?”

  Russell said, “Wait! Wait! Don't tell me!”

  Richelle groaned and said, “I guess we have no choice. Let me explain, we're the Flint Future Detectives and we'd like to hire you to take us to—”

  The kid bellowed, “I know, I know. Why do you want to go there? All the other saps are trying to get to Yourside.”

  Russell stepped behind Steven and said, “Mr. Chickee said I should follow my feelings and that's where I feel we should go.”

  The kid said, “Mr. Chickee? Othello Chickee sent you? Why didn't you say so?”

  Steven and Richelle sighed and smiled. Richelle said, “We didn't know it would make a difference.”

  The boy yelled, “It doesn't! But rules are rules, and if Othello Chickee's involved, it means that Ms. Tiptip and a ton of other Old Souls are too, so it looks like I haven't got any choice, I've got to take you. How much time is left on your Oops-a-Daisy?”

  Richelle checked her wrist. “Oh, no! We're already down to twenty-nine days, twenty-three hours, nineteen minutes and fifty-two seconds!”

  Marvin Surly-Guide said, “I can't believe it. It's always me who gets involved in things like this. Listen, I don't know if you have time enough to get there and back. Don't know and don't care. But if you're going to have any kind of chance, we've got to get going. It always takes a lot longer to get there and back than you think it will.”

  Russell said, “We're ready!”

  Marvin said, “Then let's go. The porch we need isn't far, but judging by the way you guys look and act, leading you clowns is going to be as hard as leading a herd of cats.”

  Great-great-grampa Carter's dictionary said, “Oh joy, not only is he arrogant, surly and obnoxious, this charmer is also blessed with impatience.”

  Marvin said, “Wow! That thing is so sick! We're going to have to work something out so that if I get you guys back here safe you'll give him to me.”

  Richelle said, “Whatever, but time is wasting, we need to go.”

  The Journey to H.A.L.F. Land

  IT DIDN'T TAKE LONG to see why no one from Ourside had wanted to hire Marvin Surly-Guide. He was doing his job, but just barely. He was horrible at the Guide part of his name and absolutely great at the Surly part.

  He wasn't telling the Flint Future Detectives much more than “Turn here” or “Can't you walk any faster?” or “If I was you, I wouldn't touch that.” (Which he didn't say until Russell had tried to eat something he found that was brown and gooey and smelled like corn bread, something that right after he took a bite bit him right back.)

  Any questions Steven and Richelle and Russell asked were ignored or met with a roll of the eyes or a rude snort.

  But it was Russell who finally seemed to get the guide's attention.

  “Hey, how come we haven't seen any cute, teeny trolls with hair growing out of their ears or from between their toes? Every book I've ever read where people go to a strange world and take a journey there're always a bunch of trolls that come out to make them laugh. Seems like we've been walking long enough that we should've run into one or two by now. And I could use a good laugh.”

  Marvin gave a small shudder and said, “Don't worry, there are plenty of hairy, tiny people where we're headed. Not very many of them are cute, though. Mostly they're irritating, goofy little twits. Sort of like smaller, older versions of you guys.

  “I feel bad about you getting bit by that barfoodle, so I'm gonna give you one word of warning about those little people, kid. When we do run into one, they don't like it when anyone calls them trolls, they wanna be called Whizzers.”

  Russell got his laugh. He put his hand over his mouth and said, “You said ‘whizzers’!”

  Great-great-grampa Carter's dictionary said, “No, Russell. As defined in The Dictionary of Modern Ourside: Whizzer ([WHIZ-ur] n. Any of a race of diminutive, incomplete, trouble-causing, supernatural beings exiled from Yourside, found almost exclusively inhabiting various rooms in the H.A.L.F. Land sector of Ourside.)”

  Marvin said, “Your talking book hit the nail right on the head.”

  Russell said, “These Whizzers are troublemakers?”

  “Of course they are, but don't worry about running into them out here, they're kept just about on lockdown.”

  Richelle, Steven and Russell all said, “Kept?”

  “Ooh, touchy little bunch of Yoursiders, aren't we? Yes, they're kept, but no, it's not like they're prisoners or slaves or anything. Nearly everyone you'll run into where we're going stays in different rooms and they're cool with it. They can jet whenever they want, but most of 'em just chi
ll in their rooms.”

  Richelle said, “Okay, Surly-Guide, I'm not taking one more step until you tell us where we're headed. This place doesn't sound like somewhere I want to go.”

  Marvin turned his nose up at Richelle and said, “It's the place your cool talking book said, H.A.L.F. Land.”

  “Halfland?”

  “H.A.L.F. Land, two words. The initials stand for the Hopeless, Abandoned, Lost and Forgotten.”

  Russell said, “No! I'm not going back to Flint until I find Rodney Rodent!”

  Marvin said, “No, not Flint.”

  Richelle said, “Russell, stop! Marvin, you're talking about a land where people are separated because they're hopeless and lost? This place is sounding worse by the minute! I'm turning right around and going back to Mr. Chickee and Ms. Tiptip! I can't believe they'd let us go somewhere like that.”

  “Nice speech, Miss Cyrus-Herndon. Let's all wait a minute and see if it's made me cry … nope. But if you could stop being Miss High-and-Mighty for a second, you'd see there's nothing fishy going on.” Marvin snorted. “Peoplehere in Ourside would find it strange that someone from Yourside has a problem with H.A.L.F. Land, though.”

  Richelle said, “Why? You should stop stereotyping, some of us from Earth are very compassionate.”

  “You think so, huh? Still, some folks in Ourside would think it's weird you're worried, because everyone and everything in H.A.L.F. Land is there because of something a bunch of people from your Earth did.”

  Richelle said, “What?”

  “Yeah. And these Earth people don't send only Whizzers to H.A.L.F. Land either, they send all kinds of characters. The old folks in Ourside have tried to make the Yoursiders stop sending these Whizzers and things here, but they keep on disrespecting us and acting like they don't care. They're a real hardheaded group of people.”

  Russell said, “They sound like a bunch of losers, who are they?”

  “You're right, they're some real losers. Your people call them things like authors, playwrights, poets.”

  Richelle said, “They're writers?”

  “Yeah, that's them, writers.” Just saying the word made him twist his face like he was having a seventy-two-bean-burrito bellyache.

  “The old folks here have been trying to let them know they need to quit sending us the hopeless, the abandoned, the lost and the forgotten, but more and more of them come. And since Yourside discovered word processors and computers, we get tons of them every day.”

  Steven said, “Huh? I don't get it. My mom said most authors don't make enough money to send a letter across town, much less send someone to another world.”

  “That's just it, they don't get charged anything to send these characters to us.” The guide seemed to remember he was trying hard to be uncooperative. “Look, I'm a Guide, not an Explainer, not a Decider. There's a sign outside of H.A.L.F. Land that'll tell you how everyone and everything there got in.”

  Richelle scrunched her left eye partially shut and left her right eye partially open. She twisted her lips to the right, then back to the left. “You've got horrible manners, but you haven't misled us so far, so I guess we'll keep going.”

  Marvin gasped and said, “My word! If I were to mislead you even one time, I'd lose my license! My family has been honorable Guides for five hundred and forty-one generations. I don't intend to do anything to break that string. I just wish I had a higher-class group of people to deal with.”

  A house near a large tree appeared around a bend in the road. A sign hung from the front of the porch:

  WELCOME TO THE PORCH TO H.A.L.F. LAND.

  *TO GAIN ENTRY YOU MUST BE A FICTIONAL CHARACTER IN A PLAY, STORY, NOVEL, SONG, OR POEM WRITTEN OR CREATED BY A YOURSIDER.

  *YOU MUST BE NEITHER FULLY COMPLETED NOR USED IN ANY OF YOUR WRITER/CREATOR'S FINISHED WRITING.

  *YOU ARE ALSO WELCOME IF YOUR WRITER/CREATOR WANTED TO USE YOU BUT HASN'T WITHIN THE PAST NINE MONTHS.

  *YOU ARE WELCOME TO LIVE HERE AS LONG AS YOU'D LIKE, BUT ONCE YOUR WRITER/CREATOR PUTS YOU INTO A COMPLETE STORY, YOU MUST IMMEDIATELY LEAVE H.A.L.F. LAND. IF YOU'RE LUCKY, YOU WILL THEN BE INDUCTED INTO C.O.I.L. LAND.

  *OTHER PEOPLE CAN ENTER IF THEY ARE IN THE PRESENCE OF A MEMBER OF THE GUIDE FAMILY.

  Russell said, “I get it! If some writer uses their imagination to come up with a person in a story and doesn't finish writing the story, instead of floating around in space or being trapped in a computer or on some paper, that pretend person gets to come here and live!”

  Marvin said, “That's right, partner, except it's not only people. To get into H.A.L.F. Land or CO.I.L. Land it can also be an animal, real or fake, or a place or a thing.”

  Richelle said, “So, what is this CO.I.L. Land?”

  “Some more initials, they stand for Capable of Infinite Life. It's where only the greatest characters go.”

  Great-great-grampa Carter's dictionary said, “It's like this. A completely drawn character in a book has the ability to live forever. Not many of Earth's literary characters are worth remembering beyond two or three decades, after which they must leave CO.I.L. Land and go back to the books they were created for. An extremely small group is still discussed and thought about centuries after their creation. In all of Yourside's written history there have been only several dozen who're more or less permanent residents of CO.I.L. Land.”

  Richelle said, “Wow! If we have time, that's the place we should go. I'd rather meet some of the characters from my favorite books instead of some people who are just bits and parts of authors' dreams and imaginations.”

  Marvin said, “Common mistake, but what else could I expect from a common little girl? You really don't want to go there. There's nothing that messes with you Yoursiders' minds more than finally meeting a book character you've thought was so, so wonderful. Then when you find out they are nothing but a total … oh dear, what is the word you Yoursiders use? Here we call them obnoxious scumquats, but I can't remember your term. Talking Book, what's the word I wanna use?”

  Great-great-grampa Carter's dictionary said, “The closest translation would be jerk ([JURK] n. Slang. A person regarded as disagreeable, contemptible, etc., especially as the result of mean or foolish behavior). Hey! That's a pretty accurate description of you.”

  “Oh, man! I've just gotta get me one of these thumb drives!”

  Richelle said, “Wait a minute, why in the world would great characters from books be jerks?”

  The dictionary said, “I'm sure you've read a book where the characters in it seem so real that you can talk to them; that's because the author has done such a marvelous job that those characters not only seem real, they become real. They live. And just like any living person who is adored and worshipped and loved for no apparently deserved reason—think of most of your politicians, professional athletes and pop music stars—they have a tendency to become very full of themselves.”

  Marvin said, “Yeah, some people here call you guys from Earth Your-otrash! The talking book is right, but let me break it down for you. Have any of you read one of your Earth books called The Odyssey?”

  Russell looked away from the surly teenager, the way any really smart student does whenever their teacher has asked a question they don't know the answer to. Steven looked away too. He told himself, “Now not only do I have to not look at Richelle, I've got to stop looking at this surly guide if he's gonna start asking a bunch of embarrassing questions!”

  Richelle said, “Of course I've read it, it's about Odysseus and his search to come back home.”

  “Right. Well, let me tell you, he's the king of jerks! He's fighting to have a holiday named in his honor.

  “And how about a book called Moby-Dick?”

  Russell looked at his fingernails, Steven checked out the sky.

  Richelle said, “Yes.”

  “That Captain Ahab guy? What a loser! He is so obnoxious that he's been made an honorary member of the Sullen Guide family, but I'm going to tell you, not even any of us can stan
d him!

  “But enough chitchat, are you ready to enter H.A.L.F. Land?”

  Each one of the Flint Future Detectives tried to look brave. Madam President said, “We're ready.”

  The only thing Steven and Russell could do was go, GULP!

  You Must Be Hairy Plodder's Mummy!

  THE GROUP OF FOUR OPENED THE DOOR and walked through. The way the Flint Future Detectives had gone in was right in front of a door that read, BOWLING, B. T. To the right as far as you could see ran jillions of other doors with two knobs that looked exactly the same. To the left as far as you dared look were more double-knobbed doors than you could believe!

  “Wow!” Richelle said.

  “Man!” Steven said.

  “Ooo-whee!” Russell said.

  Great-great-grampa Carter's dictionary said, “According to my information, to enter a particular author's county you must first turn the knob on the left halfway to the right, the knob on the right three-quarters of the way to the left. Youthen must pause three point two seconds, knock three and a half times, and look through the peephole and await permission to enter.”

  Steven said, “Can't we stop talking and look in one of these rooms?”

  Russell said, “Yeah, I want this one. Isn't B. T. Bowling the woman who wrote the Hairy Plodder books? She's one of my favorite writers, I want to see what's behind her door. I bet there're skillions of trol—oops …skillions of Whizzers and creatures and things!”

  Steven turned the left-hand knob halfway to the right and the right-hand knob three-quarters of the way to the left, waited exactly three point two seconds, knocked three and a half times (a very difficult thing to do, try it. No, seriously, try it. See? Not as easy to do as it sounds, is it?), then looked through the peephole.

  A voice with an English accent called, “One moment, please.”

  Richelle said, “Who is it that's going to open the door?”

  Marvin said, “Oh, that would be the Earth writer who made up the characters in the room, her name's B. T. Bowling. Every time your writers send another character here, they also have to give a part of their spirit too, to stay with their creations. The old folks hope if writers keep losing parts of their spirit, maybe they'll become frustrated and quit writing.”