by Jim Benton
Igor ran and got her suitcase and some brochures of nice vacation destinations. “We can’t just run away, Igor. They’ll get Mom. They’ll get my family, and then they’ll get the whole world.”
They heard the Franbots preparing to come after them.
“It’s time. Let’s take care of Franny,” one of them hissed.
Suddenly Igor ran off. “Igor, you coward! I guess it’s all up to me,” Franny whispered, wishing that she had taught Igor something about teamwork.
But as fast as Igor had vanished, he returned and was doing his best Franny impersonation. And although it wasn’t perfect, it was good enough to fool the Franbots.
“There she is,” one of them yelled, and choosing from a selection at random from its huge memory bank of recipes, Franbot Number Three blasted Igor with its Food Ray.
Franny watched in horror as they picked up what was left of Igor and put it in a little bag. The Franbot had transformed him into a tuna fish sandwich.
“Igor sacrificed himself to save me,” Franny said. “I guess maybe I did teach him something about teamwork.”
“Soon they will all be luncheon delicacies!” the Franbots cheered.
“Let’s do it right now!” one of them yelled.
“No, first we must practice our skills. Nothing is more important.”
They all agreed that was a better idea, and they went their separate ways to practice their bagpipes, soccer, and gourmet cooking before they destroyed the world and turned everybody into tuna fish sandwiches.
“How can I stop them?” Franny whispered to herself. She knew it was all up to her. Franny looked over at the assortment of medieval swords she had collected. She wondered if she could at least damage the Franbots badly enough to help her family escape.
But then poor little Igor would have to live the rest of his life as a tuna fish sandwich, and the Franbots would ultimately destroy the whole world, anyway, no matter how far Franny and her family ran.
No, she would need something mightier than a sword.
CHAPTER TWELVE
YEAH, BUT WHAT’S MIGHTIER THAN A SWORD?
I know,” Franny said, and she picked up a pen. She quickly drew a big screw on her chest and some lines on her sleeves to look like the Franbots’ segmented arms and legs. She drew screws on her face, and stood as stiffly as she could.
“I hope this works,” she whispered. Franny knew that if her performance showed any lack of confidence, the Franbots would see right through her disguise.
The Franbots were scattered all over the lab, busy practicing their various excellent skills. Franny walked right up to Franbot Number One, who was playing the bagpipes, and in the most mechanical voice she could fake, she asked: “Practicing for the recital tomorrow, are you?”
The Franbot looked up. “Recital?” it repeated, totally fooled by Franny’s drawn-on screws and segments.
“That’s right,” Franny said. “A recital. Everybody will be there. Everybody will be watching. Everybody will be judging your performance to see if you’re really excellent, or not.”
Franbot Number One looked worried. “How do you think I’ll do?” it said.
Franny shook her head sadly. “Average. The other players can play much louder, and hold the notes much longer.”
“But, I must be excellent,” the Franbot whimpered.
“I’ve also heard that several of them can hit a high J note,” Franny added.
“There’s no such thing as a J note,” the Franbot scoffed. “The musical scale doesn’t go up to J.”
“Maybe your scale doesn’t. But don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll be okay.”
That wasn’t good enough for Franbot Number One. It was driven to be excellent, and that’s exactly what it planned to be. Determined to hit the impossibly high note that Franny had made up, it gathered up all of its breath, put its steel lips over the mouthpiece of the bagpipe . . .
. . . and blew all of its guts right into the bag.
Now deactivated, it fell over with a heavy clank, and Franny hurried off to find Franbot Number Two.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME
The next Franbot was reading a book about soccer.
Franny used her mechanical voice again. “I guess you’re studying up for the game tomorrow,” she said.
Franbot Number Two looked up. “What game?” it said. “I didn’t hear anything about a game.”
“Sure you did. The coach said it’s going to be a power game. It will be all about kicking hard. But don’t worry too much. You’re not the worst player on the team.”
“Wait a second. I thought I was the best player on the team,” it said.
“Maybe you could be,” Franny said. “If you could kick a little harder.”
Franbot Number Two threw down the book. “I can kick harder than anybody on the team. I can kick harder than anybody in the world!” it said, and began practicing viciously powerful kicks.
Franny watched for a moment. “Is that as high as you can kick?” she said.
“This isn’t high enough?” the Franbot huffed.
“I guess it’s okay. Some of the other players can kick much higher, but I suppose this is pretty good, for you.”
“How high can they kick?”
“One of them can kick herself right in the face,” Franny said. “She’s excellent.”
“Oh yeah?” the Franbot shouted, unable to accept the idea that it wasn’t the best kicker on the team.
Determined to prove how excellent it was, Franbot Number Two drew its leg way back, and kicked itself with devastating force right in its own face, which, if you’re a Franbot, turns out to be one of the very best ways to take your head clean off. The demolished Franbot fell over with a heavy klunk.
“Two down,” Franny said, and mechanically turned to go find the third Franbot, but, to her surprise, she discovered it was already standing directly behind her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
RECIPE FOR DESTRUCTION
The third Franbot scowled at Franny.
Franny used her robot voice: “Oh. Hello. You’re looking very mechanical today.”
“You can stop pretending. I know you’re not a robot,” the Franbot said, pointing its Food Ray directly at Franny. “And I know that you destroyed the other Franbots.”
“So I suppose you’re going to blast me with your Food Ray now?” Franny said, doing her best to try to think up a way out of this.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” it said. “And then I’ll get your mom, dad, brother, and everybody else that gets in the way of my excellence.”
Suddenly a thought occurred to Franny, and she smiled. “Well then,” Franny said, “blast away. But please make sure you make me into something boring like you did to Igor. I don’t want to be anything too exciting. I don’t want to be gourmet food.”
Franbot Number Three aimed its Food Ray at Franny. “Okay. One tuna fish sandwich coming right up,” it said.
But then it hesitated and lowered its Food-Ray Blaster.
“Wait a second,” it said. “What’s wrong with a tuna fish sandwich?” It held the sandwich that used to be Igor over the hammerhead shark’s tank. “Look, the shark seems to want it.”
Franny swallowed quietly. One slip and the Franbot would feed Igor to the shark. She summoned all of her confidence and imagination.
“Nothing is wrong with tuna fish sandwiches. It’s just not the dish you would expect from somebody that was learning to be a gourmet cook. But it’s fine with me. Remember, I don’t want to be gourmet food, anyway. Fire away.”
The Franbot looked angry. “You’ll be whatever I want you to be!” it shouted. “Now tell me what you think would be a truly gourmet dish.”
“Hmmm,” Franny said. “Let me think. “How about Baked Unicorn with Onion Rings. Can you make that?”
Franbot Number Three searched its computer brain. “No,” it said. “I can’t.”
“Okay. Okay. How about Roast Sea
Monster with French Fries? I’m sure you could make me into that.”
The Franbot thought. “I haven’t learned to make that one, either,” it said unhappily, and set the sandwich that used to be Igor teetering on the edge of the shark tank.
“I guess you’ll just have to make me into another tuna fish sandwich,” Franny said.
“No! Name another exotic recipe! Tell me right now!” it shouted angrily.
“I can’t think of any other easy ones,” Franny said. “And if you can’t make me into a Baked Unicorn, I’m sure you can’t make me into something as simple as Raw Weasel-Dog with Monkey Wrenches.”
“Don’t be stupid,” it said. “I don’t even know where I could find a weasel-dog.”
Franny waited. She had built this Franbot’s robot brain, and she knew just how it worked.
“Wait a second!” it said. “Yes! I think I can make that! I do have an ugly weasel-dog.” And it jerked the tuna fish sandwich out of the way just seconds before the shark snapped for it.
Franbot Number Three put the sandwich on a plate and activated its Food-Ray Blaster. There was a crackle and a flash of light, and Franny saw the sandwich change back into a very confused and slightly tender-looking Igor.
The Franbot artfully arranged a few monkey wrenches around him on the plate and proudly showed it to Franny.
“How’s this?” it said. “Raw Weasel-Dog with Monkey Wrenches. Now that’s some pretty excellent gourmet cooking, wouldn’t you say?”
“If you only had a pickle to go with it,” Franny said, and the Franbot quickly plopped a plump green pickle down on the plate next to Igor.
Franny smiled. “Perfect,” she said, winking at Igor, who stopped licking leftover mayonnaise off his paw and quietly picked up the side item.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WHICH IS WHY YOU SHOULD ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS GET A PICKLE ON THE SIDE
Now!” Franny shouted, and Igor stuffed the pickle into the barrel of the Food-Ray Blaster. Franny grabbed one of the monkey wrenches and pounced on the Franbot.
“No!” the Franbot screamed. “Don’t wreck my presentation!”
Franny would not have been able to handle a Franbot by herself. But one angry little girl mad scientist and a weasel-dog, both armed with monkey wrenches, were just enough to overpower a Franbot, especially one that was totally obsessed with its gourmet cooking.
A few quick turns of their wrenches and the deactivated Franbot fell into pieces on the floor.
Franny sat down and sighed. “That was close,” she said, and patted Igor, who was already eating the pickle he had retrieved from the barrel of the Food-Ray Blaster.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
GREAT BRAINS THINK ALIKE
The next day after school, Franny found her mom slumped on the couch, exhausted. “Mom,” she said. “We need to talk.”
“Wait, Franny,” she said. “Let me go first.
“I’m afraid that all of the things we have to do are just too much sometimes. They’re wearing me out, and I’ll bet they’re wearing you out, too.”
Franny nodded.
“I think maybe we don’t have to be excellent at everything. I think we need to pick a couple of things, and we should try to pick the things you really and truly enjoy. And maybe, sometimes, we could just do nothing.”
Franny nodded again. She could hardly believe it, but she and her mom had come to the exact same conclusion.
“Because,” her mom said, “I’m afraid that sometimes when little Frannys get wound up too tight, they might self-destruct.”
Her mom had no idea just how right she was about that.
The two of them settled in on the couch and did nothing together for a while, and then some more nothing, and then a little more nothing after that.
They talked and laughed and it wasn’t long before they both discovered that this was a kind of excellence that was totally worth striving for.
READ ALL OF FRANNY’S ADVENTURES
Lunch Walks Among Us
Attack of the 50-Ft. Cupid
The Invisible Fran
The Fran That Time Forgot
Frantastic Voyage
The Fran With Four Brains
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 2006 by Jim Benton
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Book design by Dan Potash and Jessica Sonkin
The text for this book is set in Captain Kidd.
The illustrations for this book are rendered in pen, ink, and watercolor.
CIP data for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
ISBN-13: 978-1-4169-0231-7
ISBN-10: 1-4169-0231-7
ISBN-13: 978-1-4424-9521-0 (eBook)
