The Candy Man Cometh Read online
Text copyright © 2004 by MainBrain Productions Illustrations copyright © 2004 by Barry Gott
Little, Brown and Company
Time Warner Book Group
Hachette Book Group,
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com.
The Little, Brown and Company name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
First eBook Edition: July 2007
ISBN: 978-0-316-02577-5
LAKE
The text for this book was set in Bookman, and the display type is Bernhard Gothic Heavy Italic. Book design by Billy Kelly
CONTENTS
Chapter One: Bonding with Pumpkin Pete
Chapter Two: Earlobe Lad Still Can’t Fly
Chapter Three: In the Basement of Evil
Chapter Four: Evil Doesn’t Brush Its Teeth
Chapter Five: “I’m Sad Now”
Chapter Six: Evil Eats the Last Fig Newton
Chapter Seven: The Lucky Chapter . . . Or IS It?
Chapter Eight: How You Practice Grammar Powers
Chapter Nine: Princess Floppo the Fish Girl
Chapter Ten: I Have a Headache!
Chapter Eleven: Speedy to the Rescue!
Chapter Twelve: 2 + 2 = EVIL!
Chapter Thirteen: The Candy Man Can
Chapter Fourteen: “Where Is Everybody?!”
Chapter Fifteen: Earlobe Lad Doesn’t Want His French Fries
Chapter Sixteen: Sugar Doesn’t Hurt People, PEOPLE Hurt People
Chapter Seventeen: “I Don’t Even Want to Know”
Chapter Eighteen: Why I Hate Charisma Kid (a.k.a. Mandrake Steel)
Chapter Nineteen: Mandrake Steel — 7 Guy Martin — O
Chapter Twenty: What Happened Next That Wasn’t Very Pretty
Chapter Twenty: Next Stop: The Twilight Zone
Epilogue I: The First Epil ogue!
Epilogue II: The Last Epilogue!
Author Bios
To Ginger, the best sidekick in the world (except for Boy
-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy)
— Dan
To Yaela, Who Lets Me
Do This for a Living!
— Tom
Chapter One
Bonding with Pumpkin Pete
“What was your last sidekick like?” I asked Pumpkin Pete.
Pumpkin Pete shook his big, fat, orange pumpkin head. “Oh...he was a real pain in the you-know-what.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” Pete snorted. “All that kid did was complain, complain, complain.”
“About what?” I asked.
“Pfft. Try everything. From the moment that kid put the first coat of wax on the Pumpkin-mobile to the day he ironed my last Super Shirt of Pumpkinness, all that kid did was whine.”
“But, like, what about?”
“Oh, I don’t know, really,” Pete answered. “He wanted me to teach him stuff and help him learn things. Always begging for me to tell him about the Mysterious Ways of the Pumpkin and blah, blah, blah. As if just anyone could be allowed into the Obscure Inner Circle of the Pumpkin.” Pete shook his head again.
“Who is allowed in the Obscure Inner Circle of the Pumpkin?” I asked.
“Anyone with a pumpkin for a head. And if you ask me, the bigger, the fatter, and the oranger, the better,” Pete replied. “Or is it ‘orangier’?”
“But Pete, you’re the only one in the world with a pumpkin for a head,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, I know. The Inner Circle meetings are real dull. That’s why I never go. But I’ll tell you this much, my life got a whole lot easier the day I kicked that kid to the curb,” Pete said.
“Wow. What happened?”
“I was just driving along and the kid was, like, ‘Blah blah blah blah! Whine whine whine.’ So I just pulled over the Pumpkinmobile and kicked him out!” Pete explained.
All of this was suddenly sounding familiar. “What kind of powers did he have?” I asked.
Pete wrinkled his nose and thought for a moment. “He...uh...he had the power to give me a headache. I really don’t remember. I never talked to him much.”
“Why not?” I prodded.
“Because if I said something to him, then he’d probably say something back to me, and then I’d probably have to answer and a conversation might break out,” Pete said in a condescending tone, as if he were explaining the obvious. He stopped and scratched his hollow pumpkin skull. “What was his name again? It was something like Spotty or Spuddy.”
“Speedy?” I asked, realizing that my suspicions were correct.
“Yeah! That’s it!” Pete excitedly shook a finger. “Man, am I glad that kid’s gone.”
“Uh... Pete,” I said, “I’m Speedy.”
“WHAT!? I thought I kicked you out of the Pumpkinmobile an hour ago!” Pete hit the brakes.
As I stood on the curb and watched Pumpkin Pete zoom away in the Pumpkinmobile, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was some kind of test. You know, drop your sidekick-in-training in the middle of nowhere and see how long it takes him to get home.
But then I remembered the last time Pete did this. Man, it took me days to get home from Pluto, and boy was it cold! My parents were so upset when I finally got back to Earth.
I still remember that whole stupid conversation....
CHAPTER ONE-AND-A-HALF
That Whole Stupid Conversation
“I don’t care if you did stop the Geduldig invasion fleet at Pluto! The next time you’re planning on leaving the solar system, you darn well better call home to get permission first!” my mom scolded when I came home.
“Technically, I didn’t leave the solar sys —” I didn’t finish the sentence. My mom gave me The Look. Anyone who says parents don’t have super powers has never experienced The Look. It can see through closed doors, it can spot a lie a mile away, and it can silence you faster than Captain Haggis on the bagpipes. Actually, Captain Haggis on the bagpipes doesn’t silence you so much as make you wish he were silent.
“And really, son,” my dad joined in, “it’s at times like this that I really don’t think being a superhero sidekick is such a good idea. Your mother and I were worried sick. Put yourself in our shoes, son. We don’t know if you’re fighting alien invasions on Pluto or hanging over some mad scientist’s mutated leech pit.”
“I know, Dad. I’m sorry. It’s just that sometimes when I’m saving the world and all, I don’t really have time to call home.”
“Your brother always has time to call home no matter how busy he is!” Mom chided.
“But Mom! Brad’s just a florist! He doesn’t have to punch evil in the face!” I said.
“How would you know? Have you ever had to protect a strawberry plant from a pill bug? Have you?” my mom asked.
“No... but I did defeat the giant robot that was trying to —”
“Look, son,” my dad said, “we’re not trying to be hard on you. It’s just that being a superhero sidekick doesn’t mean you can forget about your other responsibilities. Now I know you saved the planet from being ‘enslaved’ by evil Geduldig overlords and ensured that your mother and I can peacefully live out the rest of our lives without the fear of working in their salt mines until we die of starvation, but even though you were the lone reason we averted an ‘interstellar war’ that would’ve resulted in the ‘deaths of millions of innocent lives,’ I’m still going to have to revoke your TV and phone privileges for two weeks.”
“Fine!” I said, throwing my arms up in the air. “Next time I’ll just let the alien hordes win!”
“Now who would you really be hurting if you did that? Hmmm?” my dad asked. “I think . . . you.”
/> I threw down my sidekick goggles and raced up to my room. About ten minutes later there was a knock on the door.
It was my dad.
“It’s tough being a sidekick, huh?” he asked. “Not for the other sidekicks,” I replied. “I mean, between Pumpkin Pete and you and Mom...”
“Let me tell you, it’s pretty tough being a parent, too. Most parents just have to worry about their kids getting into trouble or making bad decisions ... but I have to worry about my son being disintegrated.”
Ever since Pete accidentally fired the League of Big Justice’s Disintegration Ray of Zappiness and nearly hit me, I swear, Dad just won’t let it go.
“I know, Dad, but you and Mom said you’d support me!”
“That we did, but we never said we wouldn’t worry about you. Almost every day that I watch you head off to the League of Big Justice, I can’t help but think I made a mistake.”
“So you don’t want me to be a sidekick? You’d be so proud if I was just Junior Assistant Florist, wouldn’t you?!”
“Some days... yes.”
I couldn’t believe it! He’d rather I was a florist than a superhero? For a second I hoped that my parents had been replaced by evil clones and this was just one small cog in some giant evil plot to destroy the League of Big Justice and the Sidekicks. Sure! Replace all of their parents with evil clones who would tell them they’d rather they were florists than superheroes, and suddenly the entire League of Big Justice calls it quits and opens one giant flower shop.
Boy, would evil laugh on that day. And it wouldn’t just be because King Justice was selling daisies.
“You think I love all this, too?” I grumbled. “It totally sucks that I can’t tell anyone I have super powers. Do you know how popular I’d be?”
“We all have to give something up in our lives, son. Some more than others...”
We all have to give something up? I thought to myself. Yeah. Right. What’d Dad ever have to give up? He’s an accountant, for gosh sakes! He’ll never understand. No one does. Being my age can really suck. Living a secret life and lying to my friends and getting grief from my parents about it always sucks.
And nearly getting devoured by mutant leeches? I don’t even want to tell you how much that sucks! Because...uh...see... leeches, they suck.
My life used to be normal. The only lecture I ever got from my dad was about being nicer to my mom and not trying to break the parental-lock passwords on their Internet account. But that was before the day I ran at 27 miles per hour into a wall. I woke up an hour later and realized two very important things:
IMPORTANT THING #1
Running into a wall at 27 miles per hour really, really hurts.
IMPORTANT THING #2
I, Guy Martin, had super powers.
I also learned that the one thing more important than seeing how fast I could run was learning how to stop. So I guess that means I learned three important things that day.
Later on I learned a very important fourth thing: nearly getting devoured by mutant leeches sucks, but I think I already told you that.
But everything changed that day. Rather than having an awesome ability that would make me the most popular person in school, it became an awesome secret — something I had to hide from everyone. I never knew being a superhero would be such a burden.
I mean, forget about that fact that some nut or alien was always trying to kill you, and just think about how rotten it would be knowing that you might be the only thing standing between Earth’s survival and eternal enslavement in the salt mines of Geduldigopia.
And let me tell you, the weather on Geduldigopia is totally rotten!
That’s a lot for a kid to take in!
Don’t get me wrong. I love being a sidekick. Sure, my League of Big Justice superhero sponsor, Pumpkin Pete is...well... not your traditional hero. And I’m not just saying that because he has a big, fat, orange pumpkin for a head. Let’s just say he’s heroically challenged and leave it at that.
I mean, now I can run more than 100 miles per hour and I get to fight alongside the greatest superhero that ever walked the earth: King Justice, founder of the League of Big Justice. Well, I don’t always fight alongside him. More like behind him. The lucky sidekick who gets to fight alongside King Justice is Charisma Kid.
Who, by the way, is a total jerk.
And get this, in his secret identity, Charisma Kid and I go to the same school. His real name is Mandrake Steel.
Who, by the way, is also a total jerk.
Chapter Two
Earlobe Lad Still Can’t Fly
“Okay, you sidekicks,” Pumpkin Pete said as he paced in front of us, holding his long, viney arms behind his back. “I lost a bet with Captain Haggis, so I’m stuck training you again.”
Spice Girl, Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy, Boom Boy, Exact Change Kid, Charisma Kid, Earlobe Lad, Spelling Beatrice, and I all stood at attention like we were eight sidekicks who were standing at attention because we were sidekicks and we were standing at attention.
And there were eight of us.
Running at 102 miles per hour, it didn’t take me long to race back to the Sidekick Super Clubhouse. Pete had already started this week’s training session and, as usual, seemed to have completely forgotten that he’d dropped me off in the middle of downtown only minutes before.
Pumpkin Pete took a step toward Earlobe Lad. Earlobe Lad staggered backward and waved his hands in front of his face. “Don’t throw me off the roof again! Please!” he gasped.
Pete’s face suddenly brightened. “Oh yeah! You’re that kid who can’t fly!”
“Yes! Yes! That’s me! I can’t fly!” Earlobe Lad whispered as loudly as he could, doing his best to protect his super-sensitive ears.
Pete scratched his big, fat, orange pumpkin head. “You’d think with ears that big, all you’d have to do is flap ’em a few times and it’s ZOOM! into the sky with you!” Pete wiggled Earlobe Lad’s enormous earlobe. “You ever try flapping these things?”
Earlobe Lad clutched his big ears and fell into a fetal position. “Why do all of you hate me?” he mumbled.
“We don’t hate you,” Pete assured him. “We just want you to be a little less worthless in a fight.”
A few weeks ago Pumpkin Pete had thrown Earlobe Lad off the top of the Sidekick Super Clubhouse and shouted “Fly! Fly!” The next day, King Justice, the leader of the League of Big Justice, made a new rule. When it was Pumpkin Pete’s turn to train the Sidekicks, he had to do it on the ground, in the League of Big Justice Parking Lot of Big Parking. And far away from sharp objects. And stairs. And no more bombs. Or milk cartons. Apparently the League of Big Justice’s insurance bills were high enough without Pete throwing Spandex-wearing teenagers off rooftops.
And it’s a long story about the milk cartons, but let’s just say it took Boom Boy four months before he could eat cereal without trembling.
You’re probably wondering, when does evil attack, and when do I get to punch it in the face? I ask myself that all the time, too.
See, being a sidekick isn’t always about being a hero, although there was that one time Captain Haggis called me the “hero o’ th’ dishwasher.” But that was only because I was able to scrub the crusted lamb gravy from his favorite haggis dish. Unfortunately, being a sidekick is more about paying your do’s. No, not dues. Do’s.
At four o’clock, you gotta do the laundry. Then after that, you gotta do some vacuuming in the Pumpkinmobile, and don’t forget to do the ironing. That’s what Pumpkin Pete considered training me for action. “All the action of making my life just a little easier,” he always says to me.
Don’t get me wrong, even with the slave labor, I still love being a sidekick. Well, maybe not love, exactly, but it’s pretty cool to hang out with the world’s mightiest superheroes, even if it’s just to pick up their dirty laundry. I get to wear an awesome costume and use my super powers. Nothing feels better than using your abilities to help people and maybe make a differen
ce now and then.
Yeah, I guess I have saved the world a few times. Sure, Pumpkin Pete always gets all the credit. “There’s only room for one superhero in this photo, and I have a big, fat, orange head. Like a pumpkin!” he’d always say to me when the news crews would rush up after we defeated some villain.
And by “we,” of course, I mean me.
But most of all, I knew that if I stuck with it, if I worked really, really hard and proved myself to be a good sidekick, one day when I was older I might be chosen as a member of the League of Big Justice itself! And then I’d get my own side-kick to do my laundry!
“Today, we’re going to go over a few of the rules to being a superhero,” Pete said as he stepped over Earlobe Lad and continued to pace the line. “There’re lots of rules. Lots and lots. I don’t know many of them, but I just know there’s, like, an encyclopedia full of them.”
Spelling Beatrice suddenly perked up. “Did you say encyclopedia?”
Pete ignored her and continued. “If you ever break these rules, you’ll be kicked out of the Sidekicks! So remember these rules and follow them as if they were important. Rule #1: Never, never, never tell anyone your real name, even a superhero. You must guard your secret identity as if it were a secret.” Pete spun on his heel and stabbed a viney finger at Spice Girl. She jumped back, startled. Suddenly, I could smell a thick garlic scent filling the air. She blushed.
“You,” Pete said. “What’s your name?”
Spice Girl gave a sigh of relief. “Heather Britney!”
Pete slapped his head with his palm. “You just broke Rule #1! You’re outta the Sidekicks!”
“I — mean my name is... Jane. Jane... Janemansterjones!” Spice Girl corrected herself.
“Jane Janemansterjones?! You just broke Rule #1 again!” Pete shouted.
“You can’t kick her out of the Sidekicks!” I protested. “She was just answering your question!”
“Oh, and don’t you think evil has brilliant tricks like the one I just pulled? Don’t you think an evil genius isn’t sitting in his and-or her evil basement right now, thinking of evil ways to trick you into revealing your secret identities; identities that should be secret like something you don’t want anyone to know!? Their evil plans are big! With lots of arrows and numbers and arrows that point to numbers and arrows that point to arrows and arrows that don’t point to numbers and arrows that don’t point to anything and arrows that...”