Carnival Chaos

by Ron Bates

  As for Mugman, he didn’t have the luxury of landing on a nice, soft tent. He came down on the Test-Your-Strength booth, where he landed on the lever, sent the puck shooting upward, and rung the bell.

  “Congratulations, you win a tin monkey!” the booth operator said.

  “This is the best day ever!” said Mugman.

  And he strolled out of the booth with his prize.

  The three of them met up again on the main aisle of the midway. Cuphead was being chased by “Half-Handlebar-Mustache” Muldoon and a hungry-looking elephant, Ms. Chalice was running from fifteen angry yaks, and Mugman was admiring his monkey. But the worst was still to come.

  “There they are!” Beppi yelled, and the mob of villains rushed toward them.

  “This way!” Cuphead yelled.

  The three ran down the aisle until they came to a split in the path. In the confusion, Cuphead and Ms. Chalice turned left, and Mugman turned right. The villains split up and went after them.

  Cuphead and Ms. Chalice looked around for a place to hide. Then Ms. Chalice spotted something even better.

  “Follow me!” she said.

  The two of them climbed over a railing and jumped into the seat of a bumper car.

  “Do you know how to drive one of these things?” Cuphead asked.

  Ms. Chalice smiled.

  “Just watch me,” she said.

  Remember, Ms. Chalice’s dream was to be a race car driver. She steered her way through the crowd of bumper cars, narrowly missing each one with her expert driving. Then—THUD!—something rammed them from the rear. When Cuphead turned around, he saw Djimmi the Great and Mr. Chimes in the car directly behind them. Before he could warn Ms. Chalice—THUD!—a car with Brineybeard and Hopus bashed them from the side.

  “Hold on,” Ms. Chalice said, and turned toward the rail.

  CR-RACK!

  The bumper car busted through the wooden rail and went racing down the aisle.

  “We’ve got to get Mugman,” Cuphead said.

  “We’ll find him later,” said Ms. Chalice. “Right now, we’ve got to get out of here.”

  And a few seconds later, the little bumper car headed out the front gate and onto the open road.

  Ms. Chalice and Cuphead were driving away from the carnival in a borrowed bumper car, which was an unusual sight on the Inkwell Isles. Oh sure, maybe these things happened in the big city, but here on the isles, people were particular about the kinds of vehicles they let use their streets (those being cars, trucks, buses, wagons, bicycles, roller skates, and boats that were afraid of the water). But as embarrassed as Cuphead was by all the honking and staring, they had bigger problems.

  “Holy smoke. We’ve got company,” he said.

  He didn’t say it was good company, and in fact, it was the other kind. Brineybeard and Hopus pulled up on their left side, and Djimmi and Mr. Chimes pulled up on their right. They batted the little car between them like a ping-pong ball.

  “Hang on,” Ms. Chalice said.

  She steered to the left and bumped Brineybeard. Then she spun the wheel to the right and bashed Djimmi. The three little cars bumped and bashed and batted and banged one another mercilessly as they raced down the road.

  Brineybeard pulled in close.

  “Drop your anchor, you landlubbers!” he shouted, and reached for Cuphead.

  From the other side, Mr. Chimes came at Ms. Chalice with his terrible cymbals.

  “Eek, eek, eek!”

  While Ms. Chalice held the wheel, Cuphead moved from side to side, fighting back the intruders. This went on for a considerable distance, and then something happened that brought the greatest bumper car race in the history of the Inkwell Isles to a swift and sudden end.

  “Oh no,” said Ms. Chalice.

  It was an “oh no” moment if ever there was one. Up ahead, blocking the road, was a large carnival wagon. Standing in front of it was the whole gang—Beppi, Sally Stageplay, Cala Maria, Phear Lap, Pirouletta, the Yak-robats, the knife thrower, the human cannonball, the strongman, Cagney Carnation, the unicycling bear, the three turtles, Ernestine Elephant, and the derby-wearing duck.

  Considering they’d only been at the carnival for a couple of hours, they’d made an impressive number of enemies.

  “What’ll we do now?” Ms. Chalice asked.

  But Cuphead was out of ideas. They’d literally come to the end of the road. He was about to tell Ms. Chalice the bad news when he felt something on his shoulder. This wasn’t surprising; his conscience always showed up at times like these. Only when he looked, he didn’t see a little winged Cuphead.

  He saw a little tin monkey.

  In fact, he saw a lot of little tin monkeys.

  Linked hand to hand, and tail to tail, the monkeys formed a chain that led all the way to the sky. Cuphead and Ms. Chalice looked up.

  “Mugman!” they cheered.

  There was Mugman, flying high overhead in one of the little airplanes from the kiddie ride.

  “Climb aboard!” he said.

  Cuphead and Ms. Chalice quickly shimmied up the chain of little monkeys and plopped into the airplane alongside Mugman. The angry crowd below shouted and hollered and used the kind of language you don’t expect from carnival people, but it didn’t matter. Mugman just grinned and waved, and steered into the nearest cloud.

  Everything was going to be all right.

  Or was it? You see, while most clouds were friendly, peaceful places open to everyone, Mugman had managed to find the one cloud that wasn’t.

  It was Hilda Berg’s cloud.

  Hilda hadn’t forgotten what Cuphead’s ball had done to her garden, or how those roughhousing daydreams had floated up and ruined the neighborhood. And as it happened, she’d just spotted the troublemakers behind it all right here in her own backyard. Obviously, they hadn’t learned their lesson, but she’d fix that.

  And it would be a lesson they’d never forget.

  Cuphead was sitting back and enjoying the view (not that there was much view to enjoy—they were inside a cloud, you know) when he had the oddest feeling they were being watched. It was ridiculous, of course. Who’d be watching them up here?

  He’d just put it out of his mind when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimmer of something. At first he couldn’t make out what it was, but as it came closer, he realized… no, it couldn’t be… it just couldn’t be.…

  But it was.

  “Remember the airigolds!” Hilda shrieked.

  Without warning, the angry zeppelin swooped in and fired.

  Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat!

  Sploot! Sploot! Splat!

  A squishy spray of tomatoes hit the tiny plane.

  “She’s got a salad shooter,” Ms. Chalice yelled. “Look out!”

  Mugman swerved. A second later, a cucumber missile came streaking through the air and Cuphead had to duck to avoid being vege-nated.

  “That was too close. Let’s get out of here!”Cuphead shouted.

  Mugman wanted to oblige. Unfortunately, there was a problem with the wings—they were on fire. (It seems they’d been hit by some spicy jalapeño peppers, and if you’ve ever had one, you know how dangerous they are.) Still, they’d be all right as long as she didn’t use a—

  “Cantaloupe!” Cuphead yelled.

  Mugman banked to the right, but it was too late. The melon clipped the plane’s tail, sending it into a spin. By the time he pulled out of it, Hilda was on top of them. She flew in so close they could count the hairs in her spit curls.

  “I told you what would happen if you ever crossed me again,” she said. “And now I’ll show you what a zeppelin can really do!”

  They watched as Hilda pumped herself up bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger and—

  “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a blowhard,” said Ms. Chalice, and she poked Hilda with a needle.

  “YOWWWWW!” Hilda screamed.

  There was a sudden loud hissing noise, and Hilda began zipping through the air li
ke a deflating balloon.

  “I’ll get you for this!” she yelled. “I’ll get all of youuuuuuuuuu!”

  Same ol’ Hilda. Cuphead and Ms. Chalice couldn’t help laughing. But apparently Mugman could help it, because he wasn’t laughing at all. He was listening.

  Sput-sput-sputter…

  “What’s that sound?” Ms. Chalice asked.

  “The plane,” he told her. “We’re going down.”

  It turned out Hilda’s veggie assault had done more damage than they’d realized (if you know anything about kiddie-ride planes, you know they can handle only so much nutrition), which meant there was nothing left to do but—

  “Jump!” Mugman said.

  An instant later, Mugman, Ms. Chalice, and Cuphead had bailed out of the tiny plane and were falling helplessly through space.

  “Any ideas?” Cuphead asked.

  “We could make parachutes out of our underpants,” said Mugman.

  Cuphead shook his head. Then he looked over to Ms. Chalice.

  “Flap our arms like birds?” she said.

  And that’s what they did. It didn’t stop their plunging, but it was good exercise and it helped to pass the time.

  Well, as you can see, the three friends were in quite a predicament. That’s what happens when you’re flying around with your head in the clouds. You lose sight of the big picture. And in this case, the big picture was what was happening at that very moment down on the ground.

  You see, directly beneath them, a huge crowd had gathered in Pumpernickel Park for one of the largest birthday celebrations the Inkwell Isles had ever seen. Elder Kettle was there, grinning from ear to ear even though he was a little concerned that the children hadn’t shown up yet. It wasn’t like them. Oh well, he was sure they’d drop in any minute now. The important thing was that everyone had remembered his birthday—even Chef Saltbaker, who had just arrived with the cake.

  And what a cake it was! Twelve layers high, each of them beautifully decorated with white candy flowers and sweet, creamy frosting. It was the fluffiest, sweetest, most beautiful cake the Inkwell Isles had ever seen. The candles up top turned it into a showpiece, and Chef Saltbaker smiled as he wheeled it toward the guest of honor.

  “My dear friend Elder Kettle,” Chef said. “I have created something very special just for you. May I present—”

  SPLAT!

  SPLAT!

  SPLAAAAAAAAAAAAT!

  Chef Saltbaker’s magnificent creation splattered like a freshly exploded watermelon. It wasn’t supposed to, of course, but that’s what happens when three late-arriving guests fall out of the sky and use it for a landing pad. All the guests were covered in sweet, creamy frosting (which they swore was the most delicious thing they’d ever worn), and the trees were painted with decorative candy flowers. A huge gasp rose up from the crowd as the sticky, gooey skydivers crawled out of the bottom layer. For a moment, there was an uneasy silence—then Mugman smiled. He had birthday candles where his teeth should be. Cuphead laughed. Ms. Chalice laughed. Everyone laughed.

  Well, almost everyone.

  “My cake! My beautiful cake!” Chef Saltbaker cried. “What have you done to my cake?”

  As for Elder Kettle, he tried to look angry, but he just couldn’t do it. He was too happy the three of them were all right, and that they’d made such a memorable entrance. Cuphead grinned and handed him a beautifully wrapped box. It immediately burst open, and out popped the Four Mel Arrangement.

  It’s your birthday, Elder Kettle, and we’ve come here to say

  We’re all glad to be with you on this very special day

  And now it’s time for something that should give you quite a lift

  From all your friends and neighbors please enjoy this special gift!

  The Mels handed him the gold watch and chain, and when he put it on, it looked even more stately and distinguished than Cuphead had imagined. Everyone agreed it was the nicest watch they’d ever seen, and they congratulated Cuphead, Mugman, and Ms. Chalice for finding the perfect present for Elder Kettle.

  “Thank you all so much. It’s been a grand birthday,” Elder Kettle said.

  And so Cuphead’s story had a happy ending—at least it would have if it had ended right there. But, of course, it didn’t. There was a little bit more to tell.

  Cuphead walked into the classroom with Mugman and Ms. Chalice and put his books beside his desk, but he did not sit down. How could he? His desk was already occupied—by him.

  “Cuphead?” Professor Lucien said.

  There was an awkward silence.

  “Someone seems to be sitting in your desk, Cuphead.”

  “So it would seem,” said Cuphead.

  “Curious thing, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Cuphead agreed.

  “And what’s even more curious,” the teacher continued, “is that Mugman and Ms. Chalice also have someone in their desks. Isn’t that odd?”

  “Very odd,” said Cuphead.

  “Spooky,” said Ms. Chalice.

  “It’s a stumper, all right,” said Mugman.

  The professor strolled down the row of desks. He wasn’t going to make this easy.

  “Now, can any of you give me an explanation as to how this happened?”

  “Doppelgänger?” said Cuphead.

  “Evil twin?” said Ms. Chalice.

  “Poorly devised escape plan that one of us deeply regrets?” said Mugman.

  Cuphead and Ms. Chalice gave him a look.

  “Very good, Mugman,” Lucien said. “I think you’re onto something.”

  The three of them stared at the floor. Even though they had a good reason for doing what they did, it was a pretty dirty trick.

  “We’re sorry, Professor. We shouldn’t have done it. But can I ask a question?” Cuphead said. “Why are they wearing dunce hats?”

  It was true. The fake versions of Cuphead, Ms. Chalice, and Mugman were all wearing long, cone-shaped hats with the word DUNCE written on the side.

  Lucien smiled.

  “Oh, those,” he said. “They earned those by not knowing a single answer to the pop quiz.”

  “Pop quiz?” said Cuphead.

  “They insisted I give them one,” Lucien explained.

  Cuphead, Mugman, and Ms. Chalice turned and stared at Mac. Mac gulped.

  “I may have gotten carried away,” he said.

  At that moment, the door to the classroom opened and in walked Principal Silverworth.

  “Ah, you’re just in time,” Lucien told him. “We were just discussing what to do about our sudden outbreak of look-alikes.”

  Silverworth wiped his monocle, stepped forward, and raised a finger in the air.

  “Well, ordinarily I’d say a situation like this calls for one week’s detention. But since we’re seeing double…”

  “Two weeks detention it is,” Professor Lucien said.

  The three friends looked at one another. Their mouths fell open.

  “Did you just say two weeks?!” Cuphead moaned. “Gee whiz, Professor, I’m—”

  He looked at the professor. He looked at Principal Silverworth. He looked at the dummy in his chair. It really was a ridiculous-looking thing. Cuphead pulled the hat from its head and put it on his own.

  “I’m a dunce,” he said, and then he laughed.

  The next two weeks would be hard, but Cuphead couldn’t complain. Elder Kettle had a great birthday, and that’s all that mattered. And if he had to have detention, he couldn’t ask for two better friends to have it with. He, Ms. Chalice, and Mugman would get through it together; he was sure of that.

  Because together, they could get through anything.

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  ACKNOWLEDGME
NTS

  Once upon a time (which is when all the best stories begin), my mom and a couple of friends of hers started a tearoom. It was a pretty little place decorated with the kinds of things you’d expect to find in a Victorian parlor, but what I remember most are the teapots. I defy you to look at a teapot and not feel the need to speak to it. They have big, round faces and long, spoutlike noses and personalities all their own. And whenever I’d see one sitting on a table surrounded by cups and saucers and plates, I’d have the distinct impression I was watching a family out for a picnic. I’d completely forgotten about those days and probably would’ve never given them another thought—then I met Elder Kettle and Mugman and Cuphead.

  I haven’t looked at a table setting the same way since.

  I’m profoundly grateful to Chad and Jared Moldenhauser for bringing Cuphead to life, along with all the other inhabitants of the amazing, magical Inkwell Isles (a clever little homage to another team of visionary brothers: founders of the legendary Out of the Inkwell, Inc.,) Max and Dave Fleischer. Working on this book was like leaping into a television screen and strolling through the great cartoons of history. So I owe an enormous debt to the Fleischers, Tex Avery, Walt Disney, Walter Lantz, and a slew of other early animators. Without them, dishes wouldn’t dance, anvils wouldn’t fall, and the world would be a lot less fun.

  Speaking of fun, I had way too much of it on this project, and I’m completely okay with that. After all, if you can’t have fun working with Brandi Bowles, Rachel Poloski, Samantha Schutz, Eli Cymet, Tyler Moldenhouer, and the phenomenal artists at Studio MDHR, then you’re incapable of enjoying yourself and probably need to get a dog. As for how I got mixed in with this ridiculously talented group of people, all I can say is that sometimes the universe smiles at you for no good reason at all, and it’s best not to ask any questions. The truth is, I’d have been lost without their guidance, patience, and spontaneous bursts of brilliance, and I can’t thank them enough.

  I also want to thank those friends and family members who served as guinea pigs while I experimented with various ideas for these pages. They listened longer than they needed to, laughed in all the right places, and pushed me through the word jungle and out the other side. Oh, and a special thanks to my nephew, Noah, who showed me what a spectacular experience the Cuphead video game is when it’s played by someone with actual skills. I especially appreciated his advice (“Stop dying.”) and have taken it to heart. A rematch awaits.