The Brotherhood of Rotten Babysitters Read online

  Chapter Seven

  The Return of Mikey!

  I headed back to the house. Sure, a nightmare combination of my mom with baby photos and the best way to dice celery awaited me, but it was either that or help Depression Dave rake leaves. And trust me when I say, you do not want to help Depression Dave do anything.

  “Why bother raking them?” Depression Dave had said the moment I walked up with a garbage bag. “I mean, the trees’ll just make more and we’ll have to do the whole thing over again. I mean, if we really wanted to end the leaf problem, we should probably just cut the trees down.”

  “Och! When yew dew, the tree rat is mine!” Captain Haggis shouted from somewhere deep in the undergrowth.

  “Cutting trees down depresses me.” Depression Dave sighed. His shoulders slumped slightly and he halfheartedly dragged the rake across the leaves. He stopped for a moment and looked up at the tree. A lone leaf broke from a high branch. It fell for a few moments, then a gust of wind caught it and swept it into the sky. Depression Dave watched the leaf grow smaller and smaller as it blew farther away and disappeared into the great blue sky.

  “Pfff. Welcome to my life,” Depression Dave groaned.

  “What...uh... what powers do you have, exactly?” I asked. I had always wondered, but somehow never knew exactly the right way to ask . . . or if I should even ask. Ever.

  “Powers? What powers do any of us have? What powers did these leaves have when they fell from the tree and waited to be raked up and thrown away?” He dropped the rake in the middle of the leaf pile and stared blankly at it. “Ask the rake. That’s who you should be asking, ‘What powers do you have?’ ”

  I took a few slow steps toward the house. “Uh, yeah. I’m going back to planet Earth for a little while. I’ll see you when you land.”

  Back in the house, the Sidekicks were helping my mom make chocolate chip cookies. Spice Girl had arranged all her chocolate chips to make a happy face on a cookie, but when the cookie came out of the oven, she wouldn’t let anyone eat it.

  “How can you eat something that’s smiling at you?” she asked, grabbing the cookie away from Spelling Beatrice.

  Exact Change Kid finished stirring the final bowl of batter. He pulled out the large wooden spoon, and just as he was about to lick the cookie dough globbed to the top, Boom Boy grabbed it from his hand.

  “We all get a lick!” Boom Boy declared.

  “But I was the one who did all the stirring!” Exact Change Kid protested. “Everyone knows the person who does the stirring gets to lick the spoon. It’s the reward for all the hard work.”

  “Hard work?! It’s cookie batter!” Boom Boy snorted.

  Exact Change Kid snagged the spoon from Boom Boy. “I stirred! I get to lick!”

  Boom Boy curled his lip. “If you take one lick, I swear I’ll... I’ll...”

  “You’ll do what?” Exact Change Kid asked. He narrowed his eyes and glared at Boom Boy.

  “I’ll blow myself up!” Boom Boy yelled.

  “I think he’s serious. You better give him the spoon,” Spice Girl warned.

  Exact Change Kid gritted his teeth. He slowly extended the cookie dough spoon to Boom Boy, then quickly pulled it back and took a big lick of the cookie dough clumped on top.

  “That does it!” Boom Boy shouted. “I’m blowing up!”

  Boom Boy balled his fists and doubled over as Exact Change Kid licked the spoon with even more zeal.

  “What’s going on here?” my mom asked, entering the kitchen.

  “Boom Boy’s going to blow himself up because Exact Change Kid won’t share the cookie dough stuck on the spoon,” I explained.

  “I stirred! I should get to lick!” Exact Change Kid whined. He clutched the spoon tightly against his chest, the gooey cookie dough sticking to the Spandex.

  “As long as you’re under my roof, you’ll live by my rules,” my mom declared. “And I say there’s no blowing up in my house!”

  Boom Boy looked up, shocked he wasn’t being allowed to blow up. “But ...but...,” he stammered.

  “Butts are on horses and cigarettes,” my mom interrupted. “Now maybe some supervillain stitching together an army of the undead from dug-up body parts may not care if you go around blowing up their kitchens, but I do! I just mopped this floor and I’ll be as angry as a honey bee in a bear’s mouth if I have to spend the rest of my weekend scrubbing you off the ceiling!”

  “Honey bee in a bear’s mouth?” Spelling Beatrice whispered to me.

  “Don’t ask,” I said.

  “Now you stop trying to blow up this instant!” my mom demanded, and twisted Boom Boy’s ear. “Or there’ll be no cookies for you!”

  “Even the ones that aren’t smiling!” Spice Girl added. She crossed her arms.

  Boom Boy stopped trying to blow up. He pursed his lips and stared at the ground. “I’m sorry, Speedy’s mom.”

  “And you,” my mom continued, turning on Exact Change Kid. “Don’t you think Abe Lincoln shared his logs? Or that George Washington shared the bananas from that tree he chopped down? Why, FDR created the Lend-Lease program just to help England bomb people. The next time you throw your little coins at evil’s face, maybe you better stop for a moment and ask yourself, ‘What would those presidential heads have done with their cookie dough spoon?’”

  “I know! I know!” Spice Girl thrust her hand in the air and jumped up and down. “They wouldn’t have done anything because they have no arms and are made of metal!”

  “Maybe baking cookies is a challenge you sidekicks aren’t ready for,” my mom continued.

  “Mom! We fight supervillains!” I laughed. “Well, lucky for me it wasn’t a cookie super-villain.” She took the cookie dough spoon from Exact Change Kid and laid it on the counter. “Otherwise I’d be in peanut butter shackles and snickerdoodle chains.”

  All the Sidekicks hung their heads in shame; the kind of shame that went hand in hand with a planet enslaved by cookie overlords and forced to wear peanut butter shackles and snickerdoodle chains.

  “Did someone say snickerdoodles?!” Pumpkin Pete cried out as he skidded into the kitchen. He looked at the somber sidekicks, then spotted the doughy spoon. In one quick motion, he snatched it from the countertop and shoved the entire thing into his fat, pumpkin mouth. “Got any milk in this dump?” he asked, completely oblivious to the sad whimper of defeat that leaked from Exact Change Kid’s mouth.

  A sad whimper of defeat that meant, “Hey, you didn’t stir.”

  “First Donutz Village and now this,” Boom Boy groaned.

  That’s when my house started to shake.

  Chapter Eight

  He Likes It! Mikey Likes It!

  “I hope it’s not a cookie invasion!” Spice Girl cried, “or we’re all doomed!”

  I rushed to my mom’s side and protected her from pans that fell from a nearby cupboard. “It’s an earthquake!” she shouted.

  “Everyone drop and roll!” Spice Girl added. “That’s for fires!” I yelled out over the loud rumbling.

  “There’s a fire?!” Exact Change Kid yelped. “Quick! Get the hose!” Boom Boy called out, and raced for the front door.

  Suddenly, as quickly as it started, the violent shaking stopped. I had never experienced an earthquake before, at least not one that wasn’t caused by some giant earthquake ray or the King of the Tunnel People using the earth’s molten core to cause havoc for the “surface dwellers.”

  That’s one thing I’ve noticed about kings from under the earth or sea. They always call us “surface dwellers” and are always causing havoc. They always want to invade and crush the “surface dwellers.” I mean, you’ll never catch me leading an army underground shouting “crush the tunnel dwellers.” Who wants to live underground, anyway? But then, I guess that’s just why they’re always trying to crush us.

  What is it with races that live under things; like under the sea or the earth? And why do they like havoc so much? Sure, sometimes they’ll cause chaos, but nine ti
mes out of ten, it’s havoc. You may think that “chaos” and “havoc” are the same thing, but trust me when I say there are subtle differences that set the villain apart from the super villain.

  “Uh, Speedy? Maybe you should come take a look at this,” Boom Boy said, returning to the kitchen.

  “If it’s Captain Haggis fighting a ‘tree rat,’ I know all about it,” I replied.

  “No. It’s something else,” Boom Boy answered.

  “The Good Egg washing my dad’s car?” “Would you just come look already?!”

  I walked to the front door with Boom Boy. He grabbed the handle and turned it slowly. As he was about to open the door, he looked at me and said, “You might want to step back a little.”

  “Don’t worry,” I assured him. “It’s not really a tree rat, just a squirrel.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, and let the door fly open.

  The moment he did, a wind stronger than the sucking power of King Justice’s vacuum assault on the dirt under the couch wrapped around me. The force caused me to stumble forward, and I fell out the door.

  That was when I realized two things.

  THING #1

  When someone tells you that you may want to take a step back before they open the door, it is most likely due to Thing #2.

  THING #2

  My house was flying through the sky.

  I managed to grab the end of the porch. My feet dangled above the earth — about ten thousand feet above the earth. Wind whipped around my body. My grip slipped.

  “Grab my hand!” Boom Boy shouted over the howling winds.

  He fell to his knees and extended his arm. Spelling Beatrice rushed to his side and the two pulled me back to safety.

  Or at least the safety of a house that was flying ten thousand feet up in the sky.

  Spice Girl pressed her face against the window. “What are you doing?!” Spelling Beatrice barked.

  “Looking for the lady on the broom,” Spice Girl answered, and scanned the skies. “I can’t wait to meet the Munchkins!”

  “Do you think we’re under attack from the Cloud People?” Exact Change Kid asked.

  “If it is them, they’ll be sorry when we sidekicks rain on their parade,” I answered.

  “I thought they rained on our parade, remember? All the papier mâché floats got soggy and fell apart. And, none of us actually has rain powers,” Exact Change Kid corrected.

  “I meant it as a figure of speech.”

  “Oh. A figure of speech. Well none of us have any figurative rain powers, either.”

  Spelling Beatrice loaded Scrabble tiles into her utility belt. “Do you really think it’s the Cloud People again?”

  “I don’t know, but who or whatever it is, we better be ready. Were any members of the League of Big Justice in the house?”

  Exact Change Kid stepped forward. He thumbed through a notepad. “All the members of the League of Big Justice were given yard duty except for King Justice and Pumpkin Pete.”

  “Awesome! With King Justice here, we’ve got nothing to worry about!” I replied. “Where is he?”

  “Well, I asked him to clean the cat box, and the last time I saw him he was carrying the kitty litter outside,” my mom explained.

  “You asked the world’s greatest superhero to clean the cat box?” I couldn’t believe it.

  “Kitty Bumpkins needs a clean place to poo, too.” My mom crossed her arms to emphasize her point.

  “King Justice? KING JUSTICE? Are you here?” I called out. Nothing. So, while we were hurtling through the atmosphere toward some unknown danger, one that could possibly destroy us and the world, the earth’s greatest superhero was scraping Kitty Bumpkins’s clumpable poo-litter into a trash can at the curb of my house.

  Or at least the curb where my house used to be.

  “Hey! What happened?” Pumpkin Pete grumbled as he strolled into the living room. “I was watching Saved by the Bell and the cable went out!”

  “We’re off to see the Wizard!” Spice Girl clapped her hands.

  “Well, I sure hope the bum’s got cable. I have to see how Zack and Screech are gonna get out of that mess!” Pete turned and stomped back toward the TV room.

  “Pete! We’re under attack!” I called out.

  “I should’ve known! They always cut the cable first!” Pete slammed a viney fist into his palm. “I hate evil! It just makes me want to puke!”

  “Pete, we have to think of a plan.”

  “Good idea! A plan . . .” Pete scratched his big, fat orange pumpkin chin. “First, we have to find out where they cut the cable. Did they hit the main cable plant, the place where all cable is born, or is it just an isolated attack on this house? And if it is an isolated attack on this house, then I’m outta here! I still got all the channels at my apartment.”

  “I don’t think they’re after our cable TV,” I suggested. “My house’s been torn from the foundation and right now we’re flying thousands of feet in the air.”

  “And when this house was torn from its foundation, did they not also cut your cable TV cable?” Pete questioned.

  “Yeah, I guess so...”

  “Then it would seem that they are indeed after your cable TV!” Pete jabbed a viney finger in my face. “Or do you really expect me to believe all this is just a coincidence?!”

  “Pete! The cable was snapped when the house was ripped from the ground!” I growled.

  “Or ... was the house ripped from the ground to snap the cable?” Pete jabbed his other finger in my face.

  “I think he’s on to something,” Spice Girl agreed.

  The Sidekicks fell into line and Pete paced back and forth like a detective with a pumpkin head. “So, the next question we have to ask ourselves is: ‘Who could possibly benefit by cutting off your cable TV?’ ”

  “The Cowardly Lion!” Spice Girl shouted.

  “I’ll tell you who! Satellite TV, that’s who!” Pete spun and faced the Sidekicks. “With cable TV out of the way, satellite TV can just move in with their little dishes and satellites and suddenly, BLAMMO! They control the greatest power the world knows!”

  “The White House?” Exact Change Kid gasped. “No! Television! This is a battle for Prime Time! For TGI Fridays, Must-See Thursdays, and Whatever-They-Call-It Tuesdays!” Pete shouted. “Yes... the bell may have saved us all these years, but now we’re the ones who must save the bell!” He headed for the front door.

  “Pete! NO!” I shouted.

  Pete flung open the front door. He teetered forward on his feet. I raced toward him at 36 miles per hour and tackled him away from the door. We rolled on the floor, and Pete sprang to his feet.

  “Okay! Which one of you can fly again?” Pete asked.

  A look of terror crossed the Sidekicks’ faces. “Maaa pam!” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy shouted, and everyone ran for cover like cockroaches scampering away from a bright light.

  “What? You think I’d just throw one of you out the door to see if you can fly?” Pete huffed. “You! Lady! Can you fly?”

  “That’s my mom!” I reminded Pete.

  “And moms can’t fly?”

  “Not mine.”

  “Has she ever tried?”

  “No.”

  “No time better than the present!”

  Pete took a step toward my mother. She whipped out a spatula and smacked Pete across his pumpkin head. “Don’t even think about it, squash-head.”

  Pete grumbled and stomped toward the couch. Exact Change Kid scrambled out the other side on his hands and knees. “I can’t fly! I can’t fly!” he squealed repeatedly.

  Pete fumed.

  “I hate to ask, Pete, but why do you think everyone can fly but me?” I questioned.

  “Because I already know you’re only good for one thing. And trust me when I say that the day I think complaining can save the world, you’ll be the first person I call.” Pete scanned the room. “Now where’s that kid with the big ears? We can just climb on his back and glide to Ear
th.”

  “You’ve thrown Earlobe Lad off the Sidekick Super Clubhouse two times already! He couldn’t fly then and he still can’t fly now!” I explained.

  “Fly, no. Glide, maybe.”

  “He can’t fly or glide, Pete! He has super hearing!”

  “Oh, and you just expect me to believe a kid with giant ears has super hearing? That boy’s a glider, I tell you!” Pete fell to the floor and searched under the couch. “A kid with ears that big can’t hide forever!”

  As Pete scampered about on the floor, I finally realized something. “Hey,” I said as the thought hit me, “has anyone seen Earlobe Lad?”

  Chapter Nine

  The Chapter That Tells You What Happened to Earlobe Lad, Even Though I Didn’t Know It at the Time!

  “Uh... hello?” Earlobe Lad whispered.

  He waved his arms to the left, then to the right. He rocked slowly back and forth, but couldn’t grab the closest branch that hung just inches from his reach. He twisted and turned, then stopped, realizing that if he fell from that height, it would certainly hurt.

  Maybe not his body, but his ears, anyway. There was sure to be a very loud PLOP! when he hit the ground.

  No, Earlobe Lad wasn’t hanging precariously from my roof, soaring thousands of feet above the ground. Nor was he hanging precariously from a window, soaring thousands of feet above the ground. In fact, Earlobe Lad was neither soaring nor thousands of feet above the ground. He was, however, hanging precariously.

  At least he had that going for him.

  See, as we would later find out, when we were flying toward certain doom, Earlobe Lad was hanging by his Spandexed butt from a tree that stood tall and strong in the parking lot of what was once the home to Donutz Village.

  Earlier that day, he had quietly strolled up to Donutz Village to get his daily Cinnabun. The shop was empty and had yet to open, so Earlobe Lad checked his Super Watch of Time-telling and Wristness once, then twice, but before he could check his watch a third time, something very interesting happened.