The Revenge of the McNasty Brothers

by Greg Trine

  “That’s twenty-eight bad guys in all,” Melvin Beederman said out loud.

  And not all of them had on clean underwear! Melvin couldn’t turn off his x-ray vision. Headmaster Spinner had told him it was just a matter of time, but for right now the whole world was an underwear fashion show. Everywhere Melvin looked—underwear, underwear, underwear.

  At three o’clock he gave his bad-guy catching a rest and flew over to the library to help his assistant with her math.

  “Why are you smiling?” Candace asked suspiciously.

  “I like smiling,” said Melvin.

  “This smile is different.”

  “I like math.”

  “That’s not it either.”

  Melvin thought for a moment. He did feel extra good today. Why was today different from most days? Finally it came to him. “I have a roommate!” he said proudly. How could he have forgotten?

  He told her the story of Hugo the rat—squeaks, pretzels, eyebrow wiggles, and all.

  “You are so lucky,” Candace said. “You get to live in a tree house and you get to live with a rat.”

  “I am lucky,” Melvin said. “All you have is a room of your own, a pool in the backyard, your own puppy, and a family who loves you.”

  “Don’t rub it in,” Candace said.

  They finished doing math. Then they heard it.

  “Help! Somebody help!”

  “A cry for help,” Candace said.

  “And what does the Superhero’s Code say about that?” Melvin knew what the code said. He just wanted to test Candace. After all, he’d graduated from the Superhero Academy, and she hadn’t. There were things she needed to know.

  “Code, schmode. Let’s go, Melvin. You’re wasting time.” Candace stuffed her books into her backpack and took off flying. “Up, up, and away.”

  Melvin got to his feet and looked at Candace hovering above the trees.

  “Help! Somebody help!”

  “Come on, Melvin,” Candace said.

  Melvin ran. “Up, up, and away.” Crash!

  “Up, up, and away.” Splat!

  Thud!

  Kabonk!

  Finally he joined Candace above the trees, and the two of them flew off together.

  “You really need to work on your takeoffs, Melvin,” Candace said. “People are beginning to talk.”

  “Don’t rub it in,” Melvin said.

  6

  THE FAMILY PLOT

  Far below the county prison, the McNastys plotted their revenge. Or at least they tried to.

  “We need an idea to get back at Melvin Beederman,” Grunge McNasty said. “Let’s put our heads together.”

  Mudball walked over and put her head next to Grunge’s.

  “I meant, let’s think about it,” Grunge said, blinking as the flashlight strapped to his sister’s head shone in his eyes.

  “Yes. Of course. Exactly,” Mudball said.

  “How do you get the best of a guy who can lift a school bus with one arm? Who can outrun a speeding bullet? Who can fly?” He looked at the dirty faces of his brother and two sisters. “Any ideas?”

  “Well,” Filthy McNasty began, “bologna almost worked last time.”

  “Almost isn’t good enough,” Grunge said. “You remember what happened. He ate the bologna and escaped.”

  Grunge paced around, thinking about it. Bologna was Melvin Beederman’s weakness. He’d found that out from the unofficial Melvin Beederman Web site. And the bologna had worked—for a while. But then Melvin and his superhero assistant ate the bologna, escaped, and sent Grunge and Filthy McNasty back to prison.

  Melvin was just too smart. That was the thing. Grunge had heard that he was a math genius. And he’d even stunned his professors at the Superhero Academy with his oral report on the nature of good and evil.

  Melvin Beederman had noggin power, a dangerous weapon for any superhero.

  But what about his assistant? Grunge thought hard. Sure, Candace Brinkwater held the world record for the hundred-yard dash. Sure, she could slam-dunk and even fly. But was she as smart as Melvin Beederman?

  Did she have noggin power?

  Grunge smiled. And in the tunnel, where the only light was the glow from the flashlights strapped to the heads of his sisters, that smile looked pretty creepy. Pretty creepy indeed.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” Grunge said, “I think I have a plan.”

  Grunge, Filthy, and Puke McNasty began walking away, but Mudball McNasty stayed in the tunnel. She searched high and low. There was not a lady or gentleman anywhere.

  “I meant you guys,” Grunge called back to her.

  “Yes. Of course. Exactly,” Mudball said as she ran to catch up.

  7

  CANDACE CRACKS THE CODE … SORT OF

  Melvin Beederman and Candace Brinkwater were too busy to think about the McNasty Brothers. Or the McNasty Sisters, for that matter. The superheroes had more important things to worry about.

  Right now there was a cry for help, and the code was pretty clear on that subject. Problem was, only Melvin had graduated from the Superhero Academy. Candace had not. So only Melvin knew the code. And the code was clear, not only about never saying no to a cry for help, but also about showing up just in the nick of time. The code also explained what you should say once you got there. Superhero lingo. There was a right way and a wrong way.

  Melvin thought about this as they flew over the city. Candace didn’t know the code. And she didn’t seem to care.

  The superheroes zoomed between the tall buildings of downtown Los Angeles. Since they were in a hurry, Melvin paused only once to flex and admire his muscles in the mirrored glass. He saw his reflection in 57 different windows on the building in front of him, and in 39 windows in the building behind him.

  “That’s 96 windows,” he said quickly.

  Ah … math.

  “Help. Somebody help!”

  The cry for help snapped Melvin out of his flexing. And his math problem.

  Below him he saw a boy standing on a crowded sidewalk. Candace dropped to the pavement while Melvin stayed hovering overhead. He was up and flying and didn’t want to have to start over.

  The boy looked at Candace in front of him and at Melvin above. Then he pointed down the street.

  “Skateboard stealer.”

  Without waiting for the whole story, Candace launched herself—up and flying in one try, as always—and joined Melvin. The two of them flew down the street, scanning the crowd for someone on a skateboard.

  Three blocks ahead they spotted him. “There,” Melvin said, pointing. “Skateboarder, red underwear.” They sped up. Melvin hardly had time to wonder if Candace would get the lingo right this time.

  They dropped to the pavement in front of the skateboarder. “Don’t be so hasty,” Candace said.

  “I beg your pardon?” said the skateboard thief.

  “I beg your pardon?” said Melvin Beederman.

  “I mean, uh, come out with your hands up,” Candace said.

  “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “Stop in the name of the law.”

  The skateboard thief didn’t stick around for Candace to come up with the right lingo. He took off again. “Superheroes,” he muttered.

  “I order you to halt!” Candace yelled after him. She looked at Melvin. “How about a little help, partner in uncrime?”

  “Not so fast,” Melvin said.

  “That’s it!” Candace turned back to the skateboarder. “Not so—”

  The skateboarder was gone, of course. And with the street so crowded, Melvin didn’t feel like trying to fly again. Besides, on a good day he could run as fast as a speeding bullet. Candace Brinkwater launched herself, while Melvin stayed on the ground.

  “You do the talking when we catch him,” Candace said.

  “I will,” Melvin said.

  * * *

  It was a busy afternoon, all things considered. Candace messed up a few more times in the lingo department. Once when a woman t
hanked them for saving her child who had wandered out onto a busy highway, Candace replied, “No prob, lady.”

  The proper response according to the code was “Just doing our job, ma’am.”

  Candace was clueless about the code. But she sure could fly!

  By the end of the day the partners had captured two skateboard stealers, one bank robber, and a couple of car thieves, plus a streaker and one guy with very bad language.

  And they saw lots and lots of underwear—in every color and in every style. Some people just weren’t meant to be seen in their underwear. In fact, most people weren’t meant to be seen in their underwear.

  “Gotta be home by dinner,” Candace reminded Melvin.

  “Right. Let’s go. Up, up, and away.”

  Crash!

  Splat!

  Thud!

  Kabonk!

  “Some things never change,” Melvin said, as he finally became airborne on the fifth try.

  “You’re telling me,” Candace said.

  8

  SIX BULLIES AND A SUPERHERO

  Candace Brinkwater liked school these days. Especially recess. In the past she had hated recess because she was so lousy at games. You name it and she was terrible at it. Kickball—horrible. Tetherball—a joke. And the other kids just laughed whenever she stepped onto the basketball courts.

  That was before she became a superhero, of course. Now she was the first one picked in every team sport.

  “We get Candace on our team.”

  “No, we do.”

  And so she liked school. She liked recess. She liked being liked.

  Problem was, not everybody liked her. And Candace was enjoying school way too much to notice. While she was kicking kickballs over the school fence and scoring hundreds of points on the basketball courts, the school bullies were putting their heads together.

  Johnny Fink and Knucklehead Wilson were the main school bullies, but they weren’t the only ones. There was also Frank, Joe, Jimmy … and a kid named Fred.

  Johnny was the leader of this newly banded-together group of bullies. In the past these boys had been enemies. But now they were pals. They had joined forces against their common enemy: Candace Brinkwater. World-record holder in the hundred-yard dash, the only person ever to score 500 points in a basketball game … the only third-grader who could fly.

  They had a plan to get Candace Brinkwater and return to the life they knew best: picking on people.

  “Now, do we all know what we’re going to do?” Johnny asked. They had met under the goalposts on the soccer field to discuss the matter.

  “Yes,” all of them said, one after the other. “Tomorrow at recess Candace gets it.”

  “Okay, let’s all synchronize our watches,” Johnny said.

  “We’re not wearing watches.”

  “I know, but I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  9

  HOLY COUCH POTATOES!

  Melvin Beederman flew back to his tree house after seeing Candace Brinkwater home. It wasn’t part of the Superhero’s Code to always be a gentleman, but he knew it must be an unwritten rule somewhere. And certainly it made sense.

  It had been many hours since he’d left. Would the rat he had shared pretzels and watched cartoons with still be there? He thought of Hugo as his pet. But what did Hugo think? Was Melvin Beederman someone he wanted to spend time with, or was he just a funny-looking guy in a cape who happened to be stocked with tasty food?

  As Melvin stepped through the door, his biggest question was: Did he have a roommate or did he not?

  The rat was there waiting. “Squeak?” he said to Melvin with a twitch of his long rat whiskers.

  Melvin took this to mean, “Break out the pretzels, mister, and let’s see what’s on TV.”

  Melvin did just that. He broke out the pretzels and the root beer and snapped on the television. “Squeak squeak,” he said to the rat, giving his eyebrows a wiggle. He thought he’d just said, “Another episode of The Adventures of Thunderman?” or possibly, “Do you have a girlfriend?” He wasn’t sure.

  They found a rerun of The Adventures of Thunderman and settled in, eating pretzels and sipping root beer.

  They sat and sat.

  Outside it was quiet. Way too quiet, Melvin thought.

  “Holy couch potatoes!” he cried, jumping to his feet. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say trouble was brewing.”

  10

  THE BAD GUYS’ LAIR

  Holy couch potatoes, indeed! Trouble was brewing.

  All the way on the other side of town, the McNastys were in their lair. Not hideout—lair. Only good guys and minor bad guys had hideouts. Major bad guys had lairs. It was where they devised sinister plots and cooked up devious ideas.

  “You’re looking rather sinister,” Filthy McNasty said to his brother.

  “Oh, really?” Grunge said. “I was going for devious.”

  “That too. What devious ideas are you coming up with?”

  “Tell you in a second.” Grunge turned and yelled into the kitchen, “Where’s that tea?” Mudball and Puke McNasty were busy rustling up some tasty vittles. Not food—vittles. Grunge McNasty didn’t particularly like tea. He just believed in brewing more than one thing at a time.

  This was not part of the bad guy’s code, but it was very common.

  The McNasty Sisters brought the vittles and tea into the living area of the lair. Grunge McNasty took a sip of tea. “How do I look?” he asked Mudball and Puke.

  “Sinister,” Mudball said.

  “I’d say devious,” Puke said.

  “Good. Either one of those will work. Now, tell me, what is Melvin Beederman’s weakness?”

  “Well, he’s not very good at stopping trains,” Filthy said.

  “He can’t get off the ground in one try,” Puke said.

  “No, I mean his major weakness. What makes him lose his strength?”

  “Bologna,” they all said in unison.

  “Exactly. But last time he ate the bologna and was able to escape. This time we can’t let that happen.”

  “I’ve never heard of non-eatable bologna,” Filthy said.

  “Yes, that is a problem.” Grunge began to pace, chanting under his breath, “I hate Beederman, yes I do…”

  He stopped. “Non-eatable bologna,” he wondered out loud. “Non-eatable bologna…”

  The McNastys sipped their tea and ate their vittles. They stayed up all night long discussing the problem. In the end they decided that the key to Melvin Beederman was his assistant, Candace Brinkwater. If they got her, they’d get him.

  When morning came, Grunge, Filthy, Puke, and Mudball all had the same look in their eye. Sinister. Or maybe it was devious.

  Trouble was no longer brewing. It was brewed.

  11

  DOG PILE ON BRINKWATER!

  It was a normal day for Candace Brinkwater. She skipped the bus and flew to school. The bullies behaved themselves. She slam-dunked basketballs. She punted kickballs over fences. She got a C– in math.

  A normal day.

  And pretty darn quiet.

  She might have thought it was too quiet if she had been paying attention. But Candace wasn’t. She was distracted by all the slam-dunking and kickball kicking.

  So she didn’t see it coming when she walked into the girls’ bathroom during lunch.

  Suddenly the doors to the stalls flew open, and there stood Johnny Fink, along with Knucklehead Wilson and the other school bullies—Frank, Joe, Jimmy … a kid named Fred.

  “Get her!” Johnny yelled.

  Before Candace could think to move, the boys pounced.

  “Holy dog pile,” Candace said from the bottom of the stack.

  Holy dog pile, indeed! She had no less than six boys on top of her. Candace was confused. Was this some sort of group hug? These were the school bullies. They were supposed to hate good guys.

  “Okay, get her cape,” Johnny said.

  Candace realized this was no group hug. It was time
to get busy.

  She jumped to her feet, boys flying in every direction.

  “Get her!” Johnny yelled.

  Candace was surrounded. The boys tried to pounce again, but this time she was ready for them.

  She dodged to the left. She dodged to the right.

  Dodged to the left, dodged to the right. Stand up. Sit down. Fight, fight, fight!

  Oops, sorry.

  Everyone in the bathroom stopped.

  “Who said that?” Johnny asked.

  “Who said what?”

  “Who said, ‘Oops, sorry’?”

  “I’m not sure. But I think it was the narrator.”

  This little distraction gave Candace a chance to sneak around the boys. She shoved them from behind and each of them flew headfirst into a toilet stall. Not just into the stalls, but into the toilets!

  Candace’s aim was perfect.

  “My aim is perfect,” she said.

  Then she raced out of the bathroom and found a teacher. “Some boys are in the girls’ bathroom,” Candace told her. “They’re washing their hair in the toilets.”

  Sure enough, a moment later the boys came stumbling out of the girls’ bathroom, all with wet hair.

  “To the principal’s office, boys,” the teacher said.

  Washing their hair in the toilets … some things were just not done.

  12

  THINGS GET SINISTER

  Later that day, a voice came over the intercom in Candace’s class. “Please send Candace Brinkwater to the office immediately.”

  Candace put down her pencil and stood up. She was doing a difficult math problem and was glad to have a break. She walked down the hall, thinking how great life was. She had never flushed six boys before, and she was feeling pretty good about it.

  “Six of them,” she said to herself proudly. “Six against one. You’re bad, Candace Brinkwater.”