and the Surprisingly Slobbery Attack of the Dog Wash Doggies
By L. Bob Rovetch
Illustrated by Dave Whamond
Contents
Chapter 1: The Dog Wash
Chapter 2: Visigors!
Chapter 3: The Pet-Shortage Problem
Chapter 4: Just Little Old Me
Chapter 4 ¾: Barfalot’s Revenge
Chapter 5: Ears Are Ears
Chapter 6: Barfalot Gets Bubbled
Chapter 7: Hot Dog’s Excuse
Chapter 8: You’re Not My Mommy!
Chapter 9: Angel in Disguise
Chapter 9 ½: A Robot or Something
Chapter 10: Sneakily Sneaky
Chapter 11: It Wasn’t a Dream
Chapter 12: Dude! I Love This Thing!
Chapter 13: The Bun Attack Is Back
Chapter 14: Doggy-Slobber Nightmares
Chapter 15: The Royal Purple Potato of Bravery
About the Author
Chapter 1
The Dog Wash
“Regular or fancy wash?” I asked Priscilla Popsicle and her puffy Pekingese puppy.
“Oh, the fancy wash, of course!” said Priscilla. “Only the best for little Pipsi here!”
“Your dog’s name is Pipsi?” I asked, trying unbelievably hard not to crack up.
“Pipsi Pookypie the Fourteenth,” Priscilla said proudly. “She happens to be a priceless purebred, and if you harm one little hair on her perfect little head, you’ll be very, very sorry!”
“Trust me,” I said, taking her money and her dog. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
Unfortunately, I’ve never been more wrong in my life. Priscilla Popsicle was about to have plenty to worry about. And I mean plenty!
In case you don’t already know, my name is Bob, and I’m a fifth-grader at Lugenheimer Elementary School. A forgetful superhero hot dog got beamed into my lunch box from the planet Dogzalot a few months ago and told me I’d been picked by his leader, the Big Bun, to help defend Earth against space-alien attacks. My best friend, Clementine, who always seems to get mixed up in the mess, is the only one besides me who ever remembers anything about Hot Dog or the visitors at all.
Anyway, getting back to the story, my teacher, Miss Lamphead, decided we were going to have a dog wash instead of the usual car wash for our big class fund-raiser. It was a sunny Saturday morning, and a bunch of kids showed up to get their puppies pampered.
My good friend Marco and I were on the Greeting and Money-Collecting Committee. We were trying to do our job, but we kept getting distracted by what was going on with Clementine. She was stuck on the Spray-and-Wash Committee with our mean and demented class bully, Barefoot, and his brothers, Pigburt and Slugburt, who (let’s see, how do I put this politely?) aren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed, if you know what I mean.
“Oh, my darlin’, oh, my darlin’, oh, my darlin’ Clementine,” Barfalot sang, “you look exactly like a doggy; dreadful sorry, Clementine!”
“Wait,” said Pigburt. “That’s not how the words go, is it?”
“If Barfalot says that’s how the words go, then that’s how they go,” said Slugburt.
“Oh, my goodness,” Clementine said, spraying Barfalot with the dog-washing hose. “This thing is going crazy. I can’t control it. It must have a mind of its own.”
“Oh, no!” said Pigburt. “The hose is going crazy! We’d better run for our lives!”
“Oh, no!” said Slugburt. “We’d better run for our lives!”
“The hose isn’t going crazy!” dripped Barfalot. “The girl is! She soaked me on purpose!”
“I’m sure I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about!” Clementine said innocently.
“You’d better watch out, darlin’ Clementine,” Barfalot snarled, “‘cause when nobody’s lookin’, I’m going to get you back—bad!”
“Ooo!” Clementine fake-shivered. “I’m sooooo scared!”
Chapter 2
Visigors!
Back at the greeting and money-collecting table, things were getting interesting.
“Hello, boy,” said a bulldog wearing a uniform. “I’ll take one of those extra-fancy washes.”
“Sure thing, sir,” said Marco. “That’ll be five dollars, please.”
“Um, Marco,” I said, kicking him under the table. “Don’t you see anything wrong with this picture?”
“What?” said Marco. “It’s five bucks for an extra-fancy wash, and the dog just gave me five bucks, so—”
“So…,” I said, waiting for Marco to get a clue.
“So…dogs aren’t supposed to talk and wear uniforms and pay for their own grooming needs?” Marco said, looking a little sick to his stomach.
“Bingo!” I nodded.
“I’ll take an extra-fancy wash, too,” said a poodle wearing a uniform, as she took a wallet out of her purse. “Oh, and how much for a nail trim? I’m way overdue for a nail trim!”
A bunch of different thoughts were racing through my head. These people-ish dogs seemed perfectly friendly. And if I hadn’t known better, I probably would have thought they were totally cool. But, after several totally uncool extraterrestrial invasions, I did know better—way better!
“Um, just a minute, ma’am,” I said. “If you’ll just wait here, I’ll go find out if we’re offering nail-trimming service today.”
“And a shiny-coat treatment!” the poodle added. “A dog can never be too shiny, you know!”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, “I’ll find out about that, too.”
“Hey! Where are you going?” whispered Marco. “You know we’re not offering any of those fancy-treatment things!”
“Just keep ‘em busy!” I said. “I’ll be right back!”
“Um, nice w-weather we’re h-having, d-don’t you th-think?” I heard Marco stutter as I ran over to the spray-and-wash area.
“Clementine!” I said. “You have to come with me!”
“And leave these sweet little puppies alone with—them?” She said, pointing at the Terrible Triplets. “That would be flat-out animal cruelty!”
“Listen to me,” I said. “We have…V-I-S-I-G-O-R-S!”
“Visigors?” said Clementine. “What the heck are visigors?”
“Not visigors with a g!” I said. “Visitors! With a t!”
“Well, you didn’t spell it with a t,” said Clementine. “You definitely spelled it with a g!”
“Whatever!” I said, pulling her by the hand. “Let’s just hope they’re as friendly as they look.”
Chapter 3
The Pet-Shortage Problem
When we got back to the greeting and money-collecting area, Marco was still talking to the dog people.
“You seem like a good little boy,” said the poodle. “Are you a good little boy?”
“I don’t know,” said Marco. “I guess my mom thinks I’m okay.”
“Oh, no, Stanley!” The poodle lady said to the bulldog man. “This one has a mother!”
“Now, Doris,” said Stanley, “don’t you gogettin’ soft on me here. Our job is to round up the kids—not to worry about their mommies.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” said Doris. “This boy would make some owner back on Bowwowwowwow a fine little pet!”
“So much for your friendly-visitor theory!” Clementine hissed at me.
“Look, Doris,” Stanley said, pointing at Clementine. “That yellow-haired female looks like a healthy one.”
“Although her nose isn’t terribly attractive,” said Doris. “She’s obviously not show quality.”
“Still,” said Stanley, “I betcha plenty of owners would like a chubby little mutt like her.”
>
“Chubby little mutt?” said Clementine. “Did he just call me a chubby little mutt?”
“Let’s not rush into things, Stanley,” said Doris. “Just look around this place. We have so many adorable children to choose from.”
“Are these guys talking about what I think they’re talking about?” Clementine whispered.
“No need to whisper, dear,” said Doris. “We dogs have a highly developed sense of hearing. And if you were thinking we’re talking about choosing children to bring back to our needy pet owners back home on Bowwowwowwow, then, yes—you’d be exactly right!”
“Yep,” Stanley drooled, a rawhide chew stick hanging out of the corner of his mouth. “We got us a real pet shortage goin’ on up there. Course no self-respecting dog wants an ugly old adult person for a pet anymore. So when our cute little people pets grow up, we put ‘em out to pasture.”
“And seeing as it’s been several years since our last roundup,” Doris added, “Bowwowwowwow is stuck with pastures full of useless old grown-up people and almost no cute little pet-worthy people at all!”
“Well, gee,…it sure has been great chattin’with ya,” Clementine said, pulling me back toward the spray-and-wash area. “But if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got to get back to work now—lots of dogs to wash, you know. Yes, indeedy—lots and lots of dogs to wash!”
“Oh, look at that one!” Doris said, pointing at Priscilla Popsicle as we left.
“Wait! What about Marco?” I said to Clementine. “He’s our friend. We can’t just leave him!”
“What about everyone?” said Clementine. “If you don’t hurry up and find your flying-weenie superhero partner guy, life as we know it will be over for all of us!”
Chaper 4
Just Little Old Me
I didn’t get it. Why wasn’t Hot Dog showing up? Back in the old days (a few months ago), Hot Dog always came to Earth before the aliens. Then, after the first couple of invasions, he started getting more—I don’t know—relaxed!
Before I had a chance to say another thing, I heard a huge cry for help. It sounded like this: “HELLLLLLLP!!!”
I turned to ask Clementine if she’d heard it too, but she was gone! Splitsville! Had she run away? This was no time to leave me on my own. What was I supposed to do without Hot Dog and now without Clementine, too? How could she do this to me? We were supposed to be best friends.
I was mad at my now ex–best friend for leaving me to deal with Doris and Stanley all by myself. But who could blame her really? To tell you the truth, I have no idea why I didn’t just walk out with her right then and there.
So there I was. No Clementine, no Hot Dog, just little old me—and them. I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and headed back toward the greeting and money-collecting area to face my destiny.
Chapter 4¾
Barfalot’s Revenge
“Oops! Watch your step!” Barfalot said, tripping me with the hose.
I didn’t fall down right away. First I slipped around on the soapy blacktop, trying to catch my balance. Then I fell down. I’m pretty good with numbers, but I can’t even count how many times Barfalot has tripped me since first grade.
“Ha, ha, that was awesome!” laughed Pigburt.
“Totally awesome!” laughed Slugburt.
“I couldn’t get your little girlfriend back for soaking me,” said Barfalot, “so I decided to get you instead. Good one, huh?”
“She’s not my girlfriend, jerk!” I sputtered. “She’s not really even my friend anymore.”
Barfalot, Pigburt and Slugburt just stood there laughing while I slipped and slid my way back into standing position. Then I heard it again: “HELLLLLLLP!”
It was definitely Marco’s voice. I ran back as fast as I could.
Chapter 5
Ears Are Ears
Stanley and Doris had definitely been busy. A barbed-wire fence now surrounded the field next to the dog wash. The kids were on the inside, and the dogs were running around on the outside.
“Don’t worry, Pipsi Pookypie the Fourteenth!” I heard Priscilla Popsicle calling to her Pekingese,”I won’t let those terrible monsters take you away!”
Poor Priscilla obviously didn’t get the deal. Stanley and Doris weren’t going to take little Pipsi away. They were going to take little Priscilla away! I was so busy staring at all the action on the field I almost didn’t notice who was walking straight toward me!
“This roundup’s goin’ faster than we expected,” snorted Stanley.
“Yes, we make quite a team,” Doris said, fluttering her eyelashes at Stanley.
I ducked behind the towel rack. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer. When I finally worked up the courage to peek through a crack in the towels, I saw the two of them sitting in the drying and grooming area.
Stanley’s hat and drool-covered rawhide stick were resting on the table, and he was smoothing his head with one of our special Lugenheimer Elementary Dog-Wash Fund-Raiser brushes. Doris was busy fixing her hairstyle, too.
“Stanley,” she said, “do you think my ears look better in or out of my cap?”
“Ears are ears,” Stanley said, scratching an itch. “We’d better go take care of business and call for the transporter.”
“Oh, Stanley,” said Doris, “speaking of business, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”
“What’s that?” Stanley asked, popping the slimy stick back into his mouth.
“Well, I’ve been thinking,” said Doris. “We have room for only a few children in the transporter, and this planet has so very many boys and girls. If we were to set up a permanent training and transporting base right here and now, we’d never run out. We’d have a constant supply—more than enough pets for every single owner on Bowwowwowwow! Just think of the great service we’d be providing! And you and I would have lots and lots of time together—you know—getting to know each other better. What do you say, Stanley?”
“Why not?” he drooled. “Once we load this batch onto the transporter, we’ll set up shop here—permanently.”
Chapter 6
Barfalot Gets Bubbled
This plan to make my school’s playing field into a permanent people-pet training and transport base didn’t sound good. But I wasn’t sure how terrified to be. True, Doris and Stanley had put up a barbed-wire fence. But that was it. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember seeing either of them do a single magic thing.
“Hey, Slip ‘n’ Slide,” yelled Barfalot, “you can run, but you can’t hide! We see you behind those towels!”
“Yeah, we see you!” said Pigburt.
“Yeah, we see you!” said Slugburt.
The Terrible Triplets! I wasn’t so all alone after all.
“I’m not hiding from you pea brains!” I whispered. “I’m hiding from them!”
“Oh, look over there, Stanley!” said Doris. “We missed those three little boy children!”
“Oh, yeah,” drooled Stanley. “Not exactly what you’d call cute little suckers, are they?”
“Well, I can’t say I recognize the breed,” said Doris. “But we might as well toss them in with the others. After all, there are some dogs who actually prefer to adopt really strange-looking pets.”
Stanley took the slobbery chew stick out of his mouth, pointed it at Barfalot, Pigburt and Slugburt and mumbled, “Bow-ruffy-wow-ruffy-woof-woof-woof!”
A bright light shot out of the stick, zipped around the Terrible Triplets and surrounded them in a glowing green dog-bone-shaped bubble. Then Stanley used the slobbery stick as some kind of remote-control device and guided the bubble over to the playing field.
“Beautifully done!” Doris cheered as she clapped her fuzzy poodle paws together.
“Aw, that was nothin’,” blushed Stanley. “Just wait till we get onto that field. Then we’re really going to have some fun!”
So much for thinking they might be harmless. As Doris and Stanley left to have fun on the field, I got down on my knees and pleaded.<
br />
“I know you probably can’t hear me, Hot Dog,” I whispered desperately, “but I really can’t handle this mission without you. So if you could possibly find it in your hot-doggy heart to stop by just for a little bit, well, uh, I could really, really use a hand here!”
Chapter 7
Hot Dog’s Excuse
No answer. I didn’t know if Hot Dog couldn’t hear me, or if he’d just up and decided to quit being a superhero like Clementine just up and decided to quit being my friend.
When I got up and looked over at the field, I could hardly believe my eyes. Stanley had made an entire obstacle course out of glowing beams of light, and Doris was making all the kids do tricks!
“Looks like quite a show,” said a familiar-sounding little voice.
I looked over to see Hot Dog sitting on the edge of a chair.
“Okay, mister!” I said. “You seriously took too long to show up this time! You’d better have a good excuse! No, you know what? Scratch that! Never mind! Don’t bother! Forget it! I don’t even want to hear your useless excuse! If Clementine can leave, then so can I! I am officially resigning from the position of your Earth partner, which, by the way, I never chose in the first dumb place!”
“Whoa! Slow down there, Bobby Boy!” said Hot Dog. “I can’t blame ya for blowin’ your top. You’ve got yourself every right in the world to behoppin’ mad! But listen, kid—you shoulda seen me tacklin’ that two-headed fire-breathing tiger-dragon up there on Castellanies! Just when I finally had that sucker beat, his three-headed lava-breathing pretty-boy daddy decided to show up! I’m tellin’ ya, I was lucky to make it off of that planet in one piece! You understand, don’t ya partner?”
Hot Dog and Bob: Adventure 5 Page 1
