LarryBoy and the Abominable Trashman!

by Doug Peterson

  “You mean I can’t stop?”

  “No, but you can eject. Push the yellow button.”

  Larryboy pushed the yellow button and out popped a steaming cup of hot cocoa, served by a robotic arm.

  “Sorry,” Archie said. “I had that installed for the Larrysled that used to be a snow sled. It was really nice on cold days.”

  “Archie!”

  Not far ahead was a solid wall of dirt where the tunnel ended.

  “Try the mauve-colored button.”

  “What color is mauve?” Larryboy asked, frantically pushing every button in sight. The red button controlled the CD player. The blue button served snow cones. The wall was only seconds away.

  Larryboy was about to find out what it’s like to be a crash-test dummy.

  Finally, he jammed down the mauve-colored button, but by then it was too late. The Larrysled hit the wall with such speed that not even a cartoon character could have survived such a crash.

  Not even Larryboy.

  CHAPTER 11

  HEAPS OF TROUBLE

  It was a good thing the dirt wall was just a hologram—a 3-D illusion. It wasn’t really there.

  Larryboy ejected from the Larrysled as it soared through the hologram wall and entered an underground room of some sort. The caped cucumber landed in a huge heap of garbage, while the rocket-sled bored through another mound of trash, hit a real wall … and exploded.

  “Larryboy! Are you OK?” shouted a frantic Archie over the radio.

  “Just fine, Archie. But I’m afraid your Larrysled has seen its last slope. Where am I?”

  Larryboy glanced around, knowing that Archie could see through the camera mounted on his helmet.

  It was an enormous, brightly lit room, filled with many mounds of moldering garbage. Millions of flies danced around the trash. (They were doing the jitterbug.) It was a good thing that Larryboy’s helmet hadn’t cracked, because the smell in the room was enough to stun a full-grown yak with sinus problems.

  “My computer shows that the room is connected to Awful Alvin’s lair,” said Archie. “This must be where Alvin stores the garbage that he stuffs into his tunnels.”

  “Why does he even bother stuffing his tunnels with trash?”

  “To keep people out. You’d have to be incredibly foolish to enter tunnels packed with foul garbage.”

  “Gee thanks, Archie.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Larryboy scanned the huge room. “I don’t see the Abominable Trashman down here,” said Larryboy. “So what do I do now?”

  Before Archie could answer, all of the lights in the room suddenly went off, plunging Larryboy into darkness.

  “What happened, Larryboy? Have I lost the video feed?”

  “No. But I’ve lost all light. I don’t like this, Archie. It’s downright creepy.”

  “Use the flashlight mounted on top of your helmet. And remember what Bok Choy told you. It’s OK to be afraid. Just don’t be a slave to your fear. Keep your head.”

  “I plan to. It’s the only one I’ve got.”

  Larryboy clicked on the flashlight and continued to explore with his meager beam of brightness. In the dark, every sound became sharper.

  The dripping of water.

  The buzz of flies.

  The soft steps of someone approaching.

  Someone approaching?

  Larryboy’s heart leaped, and then the alarm built into Larryboy’s helmet suddenly started blaring—like a car alarm, but even more annoying.

  Trouble was coming.

  CHAPTER 12

  THERE’S NOTHING TO FEAR BUT FEAR ITSELF (BUT I CAN THINK OF A FEW OTHER THINGS)

  Trouble arrived. Larryboy spun around with cat-like reflexes, fired both of his plungers, knocked the trash monster on his back, tied him up with a sturdy rope, and dragged him to Officer Olaf’s paddy wagon. Well … not quite. That was the way Larryboy imagined it would go.

  The real event was a bit tougher. In truth, the Abominable Trashman pounced on Larryboy from behind, wrapping his slimy arms around him. Larryboy tried to fire both of his plungers. But there was one slight problem. You can’t fire supersuction ears when your head is completely covered by a clear, plastic helmet. The suction cups hit the sides of the plastic helmet and attached themselves.

  “Sorry, Larryboy,” said Archie over the radio. “Finding a way for you to fire your supersuction ears while wearing the helmet was on my to-do list.”

  “OUCH.”

  Then the Trashman yanked Larryboy’s helmet off, destroying his radio connection to Archie and causing his supersuction ears to retract with a THOP! Then he dragged our hero down a long hallway, swung open a heavy, steel door, and hurled Larryboy into a cold and moldy prison cell. The door slammed shut with a CLANG that echoed down the hallway.

  “Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes,” came a voice that startled Larryboy. He wasn’t expecting a familiar voice this deep underground.

  Larryboy looked up from the floor and blinked twice to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

  “Hello, Larryboy,” said Vicki Cucumber.

  CHAPTER 13

  A TRASH-COMPACTION, ACTION HERO

  “Vicki! What are you doing here?”

  “Just trying to take some photographs,” Vicki said. “After my last camera was destroyed, I tried to get new photos of the Abominable Trashman. But that guy really doesn’t like having his picture taken.”

  “I guess I wouldn’t want my picture taken if I had stale pizza crusts for a face,” said Larryboy, trying to stop his eyeballs from rolling around in their sockets.

  “Anyway, the creature caught me and dragged me down here. And I’ve lost another company camera.

  Bob’s not going to be happy.”

  Vicki nodded toward the corner, where her smashed camera lay in a big pile of trash.

  But what caught Larryboy’s eye was Vicki’s camera bag. A letter stuck out of the side pocket. It was Larry’s letter! The letter in which he revealed his secret identity!

  Larryboy couldn’t tell if the letter had been opened or not.

  “So how’s the weather?” Larryboy said, trying to make small talk as he sidled over toward the camera bag to get a closer look.

  “Say cheese, Larryboy!”

  A flash went off, catching Larryboy just as he was bending down for a closer look at the envelope. Startled, Larryboy bolted back upright.

  “What was that?”

  “My other camera. Fortunately, I had a spare, mini-camera hidden in my pocket,” said Vicki, beaming.

  Larryboy smiled weakly. Suddenly, loud voices could be heard from just outside the prison cell. It sounded like people were arguing.

  “This could be important,” Larryboy said. “Good thing Archie built a listening device into my supersuction ears.”

  Larryboy fired one of his ears against the cell wall with a THONK and began to listen.

  “I can’t do it,” he heard someone saying. It sounded like the Trashman.

  “You have no choice. You’re my slave!” said another voice. This one Larryboy recognized.

  “It’s Awful Alvin,” Larryboy whispered to Vicki. “Quick, listen in on my other ear.”

  Vicki pulled out Larryboy’s other supersuction ear and listened through it like it was an old-fashioned telephone.

  “But I don’t want to hurt the poor cucumber lady or the purple plunger boy,” said the Abominable Trashman.

  “Why? Larryboy attacked you with air freshener, which you’re awfully allergic to!” Alvin said.

  “He was just protecting the cucumber lady.”

  “Do you want me to tell the world your secret?” snarled Awful Alvin.

  “No! Anything but that!”

  “I thought as much,” Alvin cackled. (Every villain has to get in his minimum daily allowance of cackling.) “Your fans wouldn’t be too happy if they heard that those seven puppies saved you from Bumbly Bay—not the other way around!”

  “Please don’t tell anybo
dy! Please!” begged the Abominable Trashman.

  “I can see the headline now: ‘Phil Winklesteen Saved by Puppies!’ Your movie career would be over.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” whimpered the Trashman.

  Could it be true? Was the Abominable Trashman really Phil Winklesteen, the famous action-movie hero from Toledo, Ohio?

  “This is amazing,” Vicki whispered to Larryboy. “Winklesteen is a celery. So if he’s the Trashman, he must be wearing a monster suit of some sort. And his monster arms must be mechanical.”

  “Ssshhh, they’re talking again,” said Larryboy.

  “Admit it, Winklesteen. You’re a slave to your fear,” snarled Awful Alvin. “So obey me, and do your job.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Larryboy and Vicki heard what sounded like a heavy lever being yanked. But here’s the awful part. The walls of the prison cell began to shake. The gears of a machine groaned from under the floor. And then the walls of the room began to move.

  They began to move inward.

  “Now I know what this room reminds me of,” said Vicki. “It’s a giant trash compactor!”

  They were about to be smashed like peanut butter and jelly between two giant slabs of concrete bread.

  CHAPTER 14

  PANIC ROOM

  “HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!” cackled

  Awful Alvin. “When you’re gone, Larryboy, no one will be able to stop me from turning every person in this city into my slave!” Larryboy stuck his face up to a tiny opening in the door to the room—an opening as narrow as a mail slot. “Lampy, you can’t let Alvin do this to us!” he shouted to Alvin’s sidekick.

  “Don’t listen to him, Lampy,” said Alvin. “It’s time we put an end to this purple-headed pest. Come on, Lampy! Let’s get out of here!” “Uh … Larryboy …,” said Vicki.

  “Lampy, if you turn off this giant trash compactor, I’ll buy you a twenty-foot extension cord.” “Uh … Larryboy …” “Come on, Lampy! Don’t let Alvin—” “Larryboy!” Vicki shouted.

  “What is it?” Larryboy asked, turning away from the opening in the door.

  “You’re talking to a lamp.”

  Larryboy stopped to think for a moment. “Oh. Right. I suppose that’s not the wisest use of my time.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, Larry,” Vicki said.

  “Larry? Did you just call me Larry?”

  Vicki looked shocked. “I mean Larryboy! We’ve got to find a way out of here, Larryboy!”

  Larryboy paused. She knew!

  But Larryboy couldn’t think about that now. Alvin and Lampy had disappeared down a hallway, leaving Phil Winklesteen (the Trashman) to stand guard.

  The caped cucumber struck a dramatic pose. “Have no fear, Vicki, my dear.”

  Larryboy dug through the mound of trash in the room, pulled a bamboo fishing pole out of the pile, and propped it between the two moving walls.

  SNAP!

  The fishing pole broke like a giant toothpick.

  The walls were now only about ten feet apart and closing in.

  “You’ve got to help us, Mr. Winklesteen!” Vicki yelled through the tiny slit in the door. “You can’t just let us be squashed flat like pancakes!”

  Vicki could hear Phil Winklesteen moving around just outside the door, but he didn’t answer.

  “OK, so maybe you didn’t save those puppies from Bumbly Bay,” shouted Vicki. “But don’t be a slave to your fear! God will give you a brave heart to do what’s right, even when you’re scared silly! This is your chance to show some real courage!”

  No answer.

  The concrete walls were now about eight feet apart. The gears underneath the floor groaned like mechanical monsters.

  Larryboy pulled a discarded surfboard out of the trash and propped it between the walls.

  CRACK!

  The surfboard snapped into five pieces.

  “Phil, if you’re afraid to rescue us, that’s OK!” Larryboy shouted. “Even superheroes like me are afraid sometimes—actually, right now comes to mind. But God can help us to be brave, even when we’re scared silly!”

  No answer.

  The concrete walls were now about six feet apart, inching forward like deadly, concrete glaciers.

  Larryboy tried to jam an inflatable rubber raft between the walls.

  POP!

  “Where’s a steel pole when you need one?” Larryboy griped, digging through the trash.

  “You’ve got to help us, Phil!” Vicki yelled.

  In desperation, Larryboy shouted the words that he remembered from Bok Choy: “I looked to the Lord, and he answered me! He saved me from everything I was afraid of!”

  Inspired by those words, Larryboy did the only thing left to do. He propped himself between the two walls. With the bottom of his cucumber body against one wall and his purple, plunger-eared head against the other wall, our hero gritted his teeth. Vicki marveled at his courage.

  She also took a few snapshots.

  “Can you make double prints for me?” Larryboy asked. “I’d love a copy for my wallet.”

  The squeeze was on.

  CHAPTER 15

  UNMASKING A MONSTER

  “I’m doing it!” Larryboy declared in triumph. “It’s actually working!” With Larryboy’s body propped in between them, the walls had suddenly stopped moving inward. Amazing!

  “Uh … Larryboy …” said Vicki. “This is incredible!” “Uh … Larryboy …”

  “I have greater powers than I imagined!” “Uh … Larryboy … Look over here,” said Vicki. Larryboy glanced sideways. The door to the trash-compactor room was wide open. Standing in the doorway was Phil Winklesteen, with his Trashman mask removed.

  “Phil turned off the trash compactor,” Vicki pointed out. “He’s rescuing us.”

  Larryboy smiled. “I knew that.”

  “Is it too late to be courageous?” Phil asked.

  “It’s never too late!” Larryboy shouted, dropping to the ground and striking a dramatic pose.

  “Then let’s get going!” Phil beamed.

  They dashed out of the room and hurried through a secret exit.

  “This is great!” Larryboy said. “Once people see that the Abominable Trashman is really Phil Winklesteen, a celery from Toledo, they won’t be slaves to their fears anymore. Awful Alvin will no longer control them.”

  It all seemed too easy.

  The three heroes clambered up a metal ladder. Then Phil shoved open a hatch in the roof, which led back above ground. Larryboy bounded through the hatch and struck a dramatic pose, his cape flapping in the breeze.

  One second later, his heart sank, and his cape stopped flapping. What Larryboy saw terrified him to the core.

  Standing tall over Bumblyburg was another trash monster. Only this monster was a zillion times larger than Phil Winklesteen. This creature was as tall as a five-story building.

  It was tall enough to destroy an entire city.

  CHAPTER 16

  GUNKZILLA

  The new monster was a supersized version of the Abominable Trashman—but much bigger and much more dangerous. Gunkzilla was a more fitting name for this monstrous creature. As Gunkzilla stomped through downtown Bumblyburg, walls crumbled. The earth shook. Veggies fled in all directions. Fear had completely taken over the city.

  Correction. Awful Alvin had completely taken over Bumblyburg.

  “Winklesteen, did you think you were going to be my one and only monster?” came an evil voice from right behind our heroes. Larryboy, Vicki, and Phil spun around to see Awful Alvin (and Lampy) just yards away in their hovercraft.

  “How … how did you do this?” Phil asked.

  “I’m glad you asked,” Alvin said, eager to brag. “You see, I used you, Phil. I used you to strike fear in the citizens of Bumblyburg. And then I used that fear to power my greatest invention ever—the Trash Reenergizer.”

  “And what in the world is that?” scowled Vicki.

  “The Trash Reenergizer can
make garbage come alive and take any shape I want,” Alvin cackled. “And it’s powered by fear. My machine sucks up people’s fear and uses that power to create monsters out of trash. The result is even more fear. You might say it recycles fear. It’s very energy efficient.”

  “A machine that makes trash monsters? This I have to see,” said Larryboy. “Where do you keep it?”

  “Do you think I’d be ridiculous enough to tell you where I keep my secret weapon?”

  “Why, yes,” said Larryboy. “You just told us your entire evil plot.”

  “Explaining evil plots is required of all villains near the end of stories,” Alvin explained. “But the Association of Supervillains does not require us to tell the location of our secret weapons. That’s for you to find out.” Awful Alvin cackled for what had to have been the fiftieth time that day. (He was close to setting the world record for cackling.) “Be afraid, Larryboy! Be very afraid!” Awful Alvin shouted. Then he and Lampy took off in their hovercraft and blazed across the afternoon sky.

  “This is all my fault,” Phil groaned. “I stirred up fear in Bumblyburg. Now that fear is being used to power Alvin’s awful machine. And that machine is being used to create giant trash monsters.”

  “I just wish we knew what Awful Alvin was afraid of,” said Larryboy. “That would come in handy.”

  Phil blinked in surprise. “You mean you don’t know?”

  “Well … no. Do you?”

  “I thought everybody knew,” Phil said. “Awful Alvin has ‘alektorophobia,’ which is the fear of chickens, and ‘noctiphobia,’ the fear of darkness. He even has ‘textophobia,’ which is the fear of fabrics—in his case, polyester.”

  “So that’s why he’s been forcing people to rid the city of chickens and polyester pants!” Vicki exclaimed. “And that’s why he’s been forcing people to wear lampshades and stand around at night with bright lights!”

  “Absolutely. He’s trying to rid Bumblyburg of everything he’s afraid of.”

  “This changes everything,” Larryboy said, a gleam coming to his eyes. “Here’s what I want you guys to do.” Quickly, Larryboy told Phil and Vicki his cunning idea and then added, “I’ve got to find Archie. It’s time to take out some trash!”