by E E Rawls
Ninja bananas swarmed over the treasure horde, yapping and hopping, and happily licking at the shiny objects. That is, until they saw Madnes.
All movement ceased. Beady banana eyes stared up at him from beneath ninja headbands. And then...they attacked.
Hundreds of little feet and sharp fists came at him, pointy heads jabbing and poking at his previous injuries, while fists beat at his face searching to pound out his eyes.
“Eeyaaag! You rotten bananas!” he screamed.
“Madnes? What’s happening down there?” Cheshire craned his neck down at the drain.
SPLRSH! Madnes sprang out of the drain head-first, his body swarming with ninja bananas like stinging bees, and Cheshire tumbled over backwards.
“Do something!” Madnes shouted, waving and shaking his limbs—doing anything he could to get the evil yellow creatures off. Cheshire swiftly snatched the sack of jewelry from his fist.
“You’ll have to appease them,” he said.
“Appease them how?” Madnes shrilled. He kept yanking the yellow things off and they kept jumping right back on, jabbing at him and kicking with their ninja feet, their high voices screaming at him in some gurgled language.
“By finding them a new shiny object they can keep,” Cheshire explained with infuriating calmness. “They love shiny things and horde them in the same way that many bird species do.”
“Shiny?” Madnes moved his head painfully, looking this way and that. “What else is there that’s shiny?”
His boot crunched on something. He shoved bananas aside to look down at the object and found a shard of glass.
His eyes lit up with an idea.
Madnes limped and ran, ninja bananas clinging to him for all they were worth. Several people on the streets stared his way as he hobbled and groaned—they couldn’t see the bananas, only a teenager waddling and limping for no apparent reason.
He tried to ignore the humiliation of it all until he reached the glass factory’s garbage disposal bins. “There, look! Look, you rotten bananas!” He pointed. “Lots of shiny stuff. And you can have all of it!”
There before them, heaps of stained glass shards glistened in the sunset’s light in a myriad of colors, all shiny and not unlike jewels.
“Oooogh,” the bananas awed as one, staring at the mass of shininess before them.
One by one they slipped off him and waddled over to the colorful bins. He sighed in relief and rubbed at the countless bruises now discoloring his body.
“First mission well done!” Furry paws clapped together and Cheshire cast him a whiskered grin. “Now, to return the jewels to their bereft owners...”
Madnes shot him a weary scowl.
Chapter 6:
Under Suspicion
“MADNES, BE CAREFUL!”
“Ssshh! I am being careful.” Madnes glowered over his shoulder at the cat and then continued forward stealthily.
One step at a time, he approached the glass doors, the fading sunset reflecting off their surface. He neared at a low crouch, just close enough for his arm to reach, and set the satchel filled with missing jewelry down on the doorstep of the local police station, nudging the satchel forward with his knuckles. Not a soul was on the sidewalk but him, at the moment.
Cheshire motioned with a frantic paw for him to hurry back.
Madnes kept his head low and trotted back to the alley. “I don’t like leaving all that jewelry there. How soon will the police find it?”
Cheshire’s shoulders shrugged. “We don’t have an option. There’s no better way to get the jewels back to their numerous owners than this. And we can’t risk you being seen or they’ll pin the crime on you.”
Madnes waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He peeked around the alley corner, watching the lonely satchel. Why was no one coming out of the station? Were they off getting their coffee and pastries? He chewed nervously on his thumb nail.
A shadow rolled across the pavement. Madnes started and looked to the source: a man dressed in rags and a worn down hat was approaching the satchel.
“Is he going to...he wouldn’t, would he?” Madnes tensed. “Just great! I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you.” He stood, and Cheshire tugged frantically at his maroon jacket.
“Don’t go—you can’t risk being caught!”
“But...” He looked back at the beggar. The man’s grimy hands lifted the satchel.
Darn, he had to stop this!
Madnes sprinted out of hiding, ignoring Cheshire’s yowl.
The beggar saw him and stumbled back in surprise. Madnes grabbed for the satchel. The man growled and turned so that his grab missed it, and then the beggar broke into a run, fleeing the police station.
“No!” Madnes regained his balance and chased after him down the sidewalk.
‘I have to get it back!’ he screamed inside his head. Power suddenly surged in his legs, muscles burning as if a fire had been lit inside them, and he found his body running faster. He caught up with the beggar and jumped him from behind, crashing them both to the ground.
It was a struggle, but he managed to grab hold of the satchel and with a heavy yank pull it free of the man’s rope-tight grip.
Madnes stood, a bit wobbly, and the beggar turned with a snarl before scuttling away.
“Ha! That’s right. Don’t mess with Madnes Hatter!” he told the fleeing figure. He dusted his hat off from the ground where it had fallen and put it back on his head.
“Is that so?” spoke a deep voice behind him.
Madnes whirled around. The last bits of evening light showed a tall, looming man behind him.
“Who are you?” Madnes asked cautiously.
A baby-blue left eye regarded him from beneath thick black eyebrows. A black eyepatch obscured the right eye—decorated with a little silver rose and a pair of white wings. The man could have been considered a handsome twenty-something—with his lean form, layered black hair, and clean-shaven jaw—except for the suspicious frown that seemed permanently etched into his façade. Madnes took note of the badge decorating the left breast of his uniform.
“I...” the man began and his thick eyebrows drew near, making Madnes lean back away, then the guy snapped upright and spun on his heel like some Tai Chi master; the spin stopped and he posed dramatically, “...am Inspector Jacque Coolette. Cool—ette. And bringing down crime is what I do best!” Flicking a hand, he then posed like a hot-shot for a poster.
Madnes drew back with a frown. “Another weird person...” he muttered.
The inspector gawked at the remark and nearly fell over. “You dare to insult me?”
“Here.” Madnes shoved the satchel of jewelry into his hands. “It’s your problem now. Bye!”
Coolette blinked down at the mass of jewelry for a moment, then exclaimed and hurried after Madnes, “Thief! You dare defy the law?”
The man’s footsteps pounded the pavement after him. Madnes thought he could outrun the guy, but the inspector was fast and not far behind, legs moving like an Olympic runner.
“I didn’t steal anything! If I took it, would I be giving it back?”
“None can comprehend the twisted mind of a criminal. You are under arrest!”
Madnes quickened his pace. The running steps behind him slowed, and for a second he thought he’d lost the guy. But then something slashed through the air, not far to his right.
He glanced back and saw Coolette tossing a length of rope, aimed at Madnes’s legs to trip him—the rope taken from a giant spool statue in front of a knitter’s shop.
“You just stole that rope!” Madnes yelled, trying to distract the fierce inspector.
“Borrowed!”
“What’s the difference? I could say the same thing!”
The rope flew forward and tangled in Madnes’s legs. He stumbled, and the inspector caught him by the elbow. The guy’s angry and suspicious face blocked out Madnes’s vision.
Coolette raised the satchel, his single blue eye glaring at him and demanding an
answer. “Are you telling me that you borrowed this?”
“Someone else did! The bag was in front of the station, and that beggar tried to take it. I stopped him, and I gave it back to you.”
Dark eyebrows lowered suspiciously.
“You don’t have proof that I did anything wrong,” Madnes reasoned, swallowing down his nerves. “If anything, you saw me rescue it from that beggar.”
Coolette rubbed his sleek chin in thought, leaning uncomfortably close.
Madnes stood his ground, sweatdrops beading his forehead, and waited until the guy finally straightened and nodded. “There is truth behind those words.” The blue eye glinted. “But do not think I don’t still suspect you of something sneaky, Hatter boy. I’ve got my eye on you.” He turned so that his one good eye faced him pointedly.
Madnes leaned far back, giving him his own distasteful expression. “Goodbye, then, and good evening,” Madnes said and forced himself to keep calm, turn, and march away. He could feel the man’s stare following him.
“I’ll be watching you, Hatter. Always watching you...” Inspector Coolette posed in what he must have thought was a cool, intimidating posture. Then his foot caught on the “borrowed” rope and he stumbled.
“That guy’s a bit dense in the head, isn’t he?” Madnes said, once he was far enough away. Only Cheshire’s eyes and cat mouth hovered visible above his shoulder.
“And a bit of a klutz, too. Good thing for you.” The feel of a paw smacked the back of Madnes’s head. “I told you to be more careful!” the cat chided.
Madnes huffed and bit the inside of his cheek.
Chapter 7:
Power for a Price
AFTER HAVING EVADED Inspector Coolette’s grasp, Madnes made his way through the downtown maze of twists and turns until the March’s Repairs workshop and garage came into view. It was an uneven, two-story structure with mix-matched roofs and a clock tower jutting through the upper portion of the workshop. Giant wheels, spindles, clock hands and a cluster of different dials made the upper half of the building resemble a living clock.
Madnes raised a fist to knock, when the metal door of the workshop suddenly swung open.
A mop of fluffy brown hair and stray blue highlights appeared out from a cloud of dust: Harrey. He pushed back his green visor glasses, blinking. “Madnes! It’s about time, you slow poke!” He grinned, grabbed Madnes by the arm, and pulled him inside.
Madnes waved away the dust. Alice was already there at one of the less cluttered counters in the shop. An assortment of gadgets and equipment in need of fixing lined every wall and shelf of the place. They navigated around metal bookcase aisles, over to the counter, its surface covered in old stains.
Harrey’s uncle had been running the workshop since he could remember—a family business that had been there since the beginning of the town’s founding. Harrey worked with his uncle and lived up on the second floor.
Madnes noted that Cheshire had disappeared. He frowned; that cat had a way of appearing and vanishing whenever he felt like it.
He took a metal stool on Alice’s right. She was fiddling with a swirly straw made to look like an elephant trunk, and she gave him a secret smile. There was only one reason why Harrey invited them over—it was always the same thing.
“Wow, dude. Are those bruises all over you?” Harrey pointed out the combat wounds from ninja bananas peeking out from his sleeves and collar.
Yeah, there was no way he could begin to explain those.
“Just the kind of day I’ve been having,” Madnes mumbled quickly. “So, what did your new invention damage this time?” He smirked at the pouty look Harrey then gave.
“It didn’t damage anything! Why do you always assume that?”
“Because that’s what always happens.”
“You don’t even know what I invented, yet!”
“By all means, do show us.”
Harrey instantly brightened, and Madnes found himself being dragged through the workshop and into the adjacent garage. The ceiling soared high overhead, the walls stretched out just as wide, offering a generous amount of room in which to build and test machinery. Alice trotted behind them, a smile around the lollipop she plopped in her mouth.
Harrey dug through a mess of junk metal and objects before finding what he was looking for—dragging it out with an excited Whoop! He stood the contraption on a space of clear floor before them.
Madnes’s frown twisted to the side and one eyebrow rose. “A bicycle?” he asked.
“One that can fly!” added Harrey with glee.
A big propeller sprouted up from the bike like an umbrella, and a smaller one stuck out from the back seat. Harrey hopped onto the seat, feet on the pedals, and began pedaling. Both propellers started to turn, slowly at first, then gaining momentum.
The blades whizzed and hummed, growing so loud they had to cover their ears. Gradually, and a bit wobbly, the bike rose a foot off the ground.
“See, see?” Harrey exclaimed excitedly. He pedaled faster, and the bike gained more height.
Madnes watched and crossed his arms, while Alice cheered their friend on.
Something crackled.
Madnes shook his head and shut his eyes, not bothering to watch what he knew would happen next.
Sparks crackled from the blades and the bike came crashing down, Harrey yelping along with it.
CRSH!
Pieces of debris scattered across the floor, and a screw rolled to Madnes’s boot.
“Wow. It lasted a whole five seconds. That’s a new record for you.”
“Oh come on, Madnes,” Harrey whined, pulling himself painfully from the wreckage and hobbling. “Don’t squash my dreams, dude.”
Madnes shrugged, palms up. “You do that just fine all on your own.”
Harrey’s tanned face pouted, eyes moist. Madnes exhaled and glanced away.
Ever dramatic Harrey was like a slice of the sun that couldn’t stop beaming when he was happy, and a miserable deluge when he got depressed.
Alice stepped between them. “That’s not true. Harrey, you come up with splendid ideas! Even if they...don’t always work.”
“That’s an understatement,” Madnes muttered. “Ouch!” A brown heel jabbed him in the shin, and Alice’s look shot him a warning.
Madnes turned his face away, making a pout of his own. He knew he shouldn’t be so moody and shouldn’t be taking out his frustration on his friends, but he’d always had a hard time controlling his emotions.
Later, seated at the only clear counter space, Harrey asked what they all wanted for a late dinner.
“Toast and eggs for me. I like night brunch,” said Alice.
“Pizza.” Madnes let his tired forehead bump the countertop, his hands limp at his sides. All his bruises still throbbed.
“Looks like you might get a scar there.”
“Huh?” Madnes lifted his head back up, and Harrey tapped the side of his face where three claw marks were still healing—made by Oz.
“Oh. Yeah, maybe,” he said. “I can look even uglier than I already do. Yay.”
Alice laughed into her palm. “Madnes, you’ve never been ugly. Some girls at school even think you’re cute.”
“Really?” He stared at her, unbelieving. “Maybe they should have their vision checked.”
Harrey laughed and slapped the counter. “I doubt anybody could beat you in a contest for best dry humor.”
Madnes chuckled at that.
A cuckoo clock interrupted them, the mechanical bird springing in and out of the carved wood clock, announcing the late hour. As if on cue, a small robotic creature came walking from the kitchen with a large tray held high. It hopped onto the table counter and delivered a platter of toast, eggs, and pizza slices.
Madnes squinted at the small robot, or to be more precise: the frog robot. Its bronze body gleamed beneath a small tux and bowtie as it walked upright on long, thin hindlegs.
“A waiter frog. You couldn’t just build something normal
, could you?” Madnes commented.
“You fixed him!” Alice reached and patted the glossy metal. “It’s been a long while since I last saw him.”
Harrey grinned. “He got run over by a steam car. Took some time to fix him up. But he’s his old helpful self again, aren’t ya, Frobbit?”
“YES. I AM FUNCTIONING NORMALY-ribbit.” Round glass eyes flashed yellow as the robot responded.
“See? I can make something that works.” Harrey stuck out his tongue.
Madnes dipped his head in acknowledgement.
“ARE YOU DISPLEASED WITH YOUR PIZZA?” The frog turned to him. Madnes blinked down at the small robot. It moved forward, gears clanking and creaking, and suddenly took the plate and threw the pizza in his face.
“Yuck! Why’d you do that?” Madnes peeled cheese and sauce off his nose, then swiped a hand at the robot.
The frog leaped, easily dodging him.
“YOU DID NOT EAT YOUR PIZZA. YOU ARE A BAD BOY-ribbit.” It grabbed the toast and eggs and began throwing food at each of them.
Alice ducked under the counter.
“Make it stop!” Madnes shouted, trying to snatch the hopping frog.
“Coming!” Harrey called, as he grabbed a flyswatter with one hand and shielded his face from fire with the other. He aimed a swat at the frog’s back, pressing the shut-off button.
“BAD BOooy...” The frog’s battery died, and the glow left its eyes.
Staring down at the mess of dripping eggs and pizza sauce everywhere, Madnes headed off to find the bathroom and cleaning rags. “Yeah. You really made something that works.”
Harrey carried the frog over to a shelf of gizmos awaiting to be fixed. “It will work! Eventually.”
AFTER CLEANING UP, Madnes remembered with a start that he’d forgotten to call home and let Mom know where he was. He now picked up the garage phone’s teal receiver, dialed in the number, and left a message for her saying he would be at Harrey’s a while longer.
