by Greg Trine
Moments later, they entered the fog, which was now thicker than quicksand—it was more like a chocolate milk shake.
“I can’t see a thing,” Jo said.
Raymond’s look said, “More important, I can’t smell bacon.”
The reason Raymond couldn’t smell bacon was that Wyatt Burp had realized that although his burping was making them go faster, the sound was giving them away. So was the smell. Best not to burp at all and let the fog do its job.
This was the plan of Wyatt Burp and the Hole in the Head Gang. They were adrift in the fog. No one could see a thing, which was perfect. If they couldn’t see, neither could Jo and her little vampire dog, too.
“Ha-ha!” Wyatt said under his breath. “She’ll never find us now.” But he gave his neck another wrap with the scarf, just in case. Mini vampires couldn’t be trusted.
14
The Plot Thickens ... and So Does the Fog
A few seconds later, Jo’s rowboat, powered by the dog-paddling Raymond, entered the fog, which had grown even thicker. Thicker than a chocolate milk shake. It was now more like concrete.
Yes, this stuff was thick. So thick in fact that Jo could no longer see Raymond, even though she was holding his front paws.
“You’re still there, aren’t you, boy? I feel something like paws ... just want to be sure.”
Raymond gave her a look that said, “I feel something like human hands. I’m hoping it’s you.”
The fog was so thick that Jo couldn’t see the look on Raymond’s face.
“Raymond?”
Raymond decided he’d have to use his dog voice.
“Ruff!”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jo said. “Keep paddling. We’ve got to be close.”
Festus the Number Two Man stood at the rear of the ship, staring back into the fog. “Did you hear that, Wyatt?”
“I heard it,” Wyatt said.
“A vampire-dog bark if I’ve ever heard one.”
Festus had never heard one. What did he know?
“Hard to starboard!” Wyatt ordered, and the person at the ship’s wheel turned it hard to the right.
You may be asking yourself how Wyatt Burp knew what starboard meant if he didn’t know the word anchor. I know ... go figure.
In any case, the ship turned to the right, and when it did, it kicked up a little wave, which made a splash, and the sound of the splash carried across the water to Jo Schmo.
“We’ve got them now, Raymond,” Jo said, and she moved her dog slightly so that the rowboat turned to the right.
By now the fog had lifted just enough for Jo to see Raymond’s face. He gave her a look that said, “I don’t smell bacon. What’s the point?”
“The point is that Wyatt Burp and his gang are havoc-wreakers, and we’re going to stop their havoc-wreaking.”
Raymond didn’t care about havoc-wreaking. He’d much rather pursue bacon. But he went along with Jo’s plan. He was, after all, a sidekick. It was his job to help the superhero in charge. He was also man’s (and girl’s) best friend, and with that thought, he dog-paddled just a little harder. Bacon or no bacon, he had a job to do.
And right then something went THUNK!
A THUNK usually indicates that something solid has just hit something else solid, like, for example, a rowboat hitting the back of a ship.
Raymond gave Jo a look that said, “Is it just me, or was that a THUNK ?”
“That was definitely a THUNK!” Jo said.
The fog had lifted even more, so when Jo turned around, she could see the ship occupied by Wyatt Burp and the Hole in the Head Gang.
“Time to go to work, Raymond.” She yanked her dog out of the water and tossed him onto the ship. Then she scampered up after him.
“Stop in the name of—”
While she was pondering what to add after “Stop in the name of,” Wyatt Burp took a swig of sarsaparilla and did what he did best.
BURRRRRRRP!
The blast tossed Jo and Raymond off the back of the ship and into the bay. And Jo Schmo, who couldn’t swim, sank beneath the waves.
15
Smashing Practice
Back in modern times, Gertrude McSlime and Betty Sludgefoot had no idea that Jo Schmo was sinking like a brick to the bottom of San Francisco Bay. They were too busy staring at the building they had just demolished with the wrecking ball. One of Betty’s favorite pastimes was squashing bugs, but she found she liked squashing buildings just as much.
“Is it okay to have two favorite pastimes?” Betty asked.
“Absolutely,” said Gertrude.
“Great. How about we smash another building?”
Gertrude shook her head. “How about we don’t? This wrecking ball is for squashing Jo Schmo, remember?”
“Practice makes perfect,” Betty said.
“Good point.” Gertrude yanked on a few levers, and—
SMASH! Gertrude’s aim was right on target. Another building bit the dust.
“Time for another evil-laugh-and-burping session,” Gertrude said with a smile.
“I agree,” said Betty. “Pour the soda.”
Moments later, both girls took a swig, and—
“Mwah-ha—BURRRRRRRP—ha!”
“Now if only Jo Schmo would show up, this day would be perfect,” Betty said.
Gertrude agreed. If only Jo Schmo would show up...
But Jo didn’t show up. Time clicked by. Actually, it ticked by. And tocked, for that matter. The point is that there was no sign of Jo Schmo.
Gertrude and Betty decided to stop smashing buildings while they waited. People were starting to look at them funny. Which made sense, since some of them had just become homeless. Or at least buildingless.
Gertrude and Betty waited, saving the wrecking ball for Jo. They also saved their burps. And the water balloons.
“Where is she?” Gertrude wondered.
“I don’t know,” complained Betty, “but I’m getting bored.”
“Bored with a capital B?”
Betty nodded.
“At least you’re not bored with a capital X. If you’re bored with a capital X, it means not only are you bored but—”
“I lost my ability to spell?”
“Exactly.”
To be honest, Betty had never had much of an ability to spell. She was too busy being a mean girl to concentrate on her schoolwork. After all, she was a future supervillain ... a girl had to have her priorities.
And so the girls sat and waited. Then they waited. And after they waited, they ... waited.
Gertrude pulled a deck of cards from her pocket and dealt them out. The two girls played three rounds of crazy eights, four rounds of blackjack, and then moved on to go fish.
“Got any threes?” Gertrude asked.
“Go fish.”
16
Raymond to the Rescue
“What kind of superhero doesn’t know how to swim?” Raymond’s look said.
Jo couldn’t answer. She didn’t see the look on her dog’s face. She was too busy sinking like a brick to the bottom of the bay to be bothered with things like reading Raymond’s expressions. Lack of oxygen tends to do that to a person.
Deeper and deeper she sank.
It was up to Raymond to save her. He didn’t know CPR, but he did do a mean dog paddle. In fact, he did a superhero one. He dove beneath the waves with an expression that said, “Don’t worry, Jo. I’m coming.”
Down he went, one dog paddle at a time. When he reached Jo, both of them were nearly out of air. Jo flapped her arms in a desperate attempt to get to the surface. It wasn’t working. She was a superhero, not a swimmer.
And that’s when Raymond got an idea. He gave her a look that said, “Maybe you can’t swim, but aren’t you a superhero? Can’t you fly?”
That’s right! Jo thought. She was a superhero. She could fly. Flying was just a matter of saying the magic words, and the magic words were sponge cake.
“Sponge cake!” Jo said, grab
bing hold of Raymond.
Unfortunately, she was underwater. What came out of her mouth was something more like “Blubby!” Saying blubby wouldn’t cause anyone to fly, even if you were an airline pilot.
Jo tried again: “Flubby!” Flubby was even worse than blubby. Although it did rhyme, and you had to give a person credit for rhyming, especially a drowning person.
Drowning person!
Jo sank deeper into the bay.
Time for Raymond to take things into his own paws. Instead, he used his teeth. He grabbed Jo by the cape and dog-paddled toward the surface. He wanted to give her a look that said, “Hold on, Jo, we’ll be there in a jiffy,” but his face was a little occupied at the moment.
A few seconds later they burst above the surface, both of them gasping for air. When Jo caught her breath, she gave her dog’s neck a squeeze and said, “Thanks, Raymond. You’re the best sidekick a superhero ever had. Ready, boy? Let’s fly.” She wrapped her arms around him and added, “Sponge cake!”
Jo and Raymond lifted out of the water.
“Sponge cake!” Jo said again.
They rose even further.
“Sponge cake!” she said a third time. And before you could say “Jo Schmo and her dog were flying like a couple of real superheroes,” Jo Schmo and her dog were flying like a couple of real superheroes.
You might be asking yourself, “If Jo Schmo could fly, why did she waste so much time with that rowboat?” I know ... go figure.
17
Fog as Thick as Peanut Butter
Unfortunately, the fog had returned. It was now as thick as peanut butter, which is even thicker than concrete. But at least it smells better.
Meanwhile, Wyatt Burp thought Jo Schmo was at the bottom of the bay. He started burping again. So although Jo couldn’t see a thing through the fog that was as thick as peanut butter, she could hear
And smell something.
Bacon! Raymond thought, and he fell in love with 1849 all over again.
Jo flew toward the sound of the burping and the smell of the bacon, not to mention the smell of sausage and eggs.
BURRRRRRRP!
Jo knew she was close. The burps were getting louder and louder. Moments later, Jo and Raymond flew straight into the ship’s mast and fell—plunk—onto the deck.
The fog was too thick for anyone to see this happen, but that didn’t mean they didn’t hear it.
“Is it just me or did something just go plunk?” Festus the Number Two Man asked.
“I heard it,” Wyatt said, and he wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck. “That mini vampire is back.”
“Don’t you mean ‘Curses! That mini vampire is back’?”
That’s exactly what Wyatt meant, but he was too worried about his neck to think straight and use the proper bad-guy words like “Curses!”
“What’s the plan, boss?”
“No one can stand up to my burps,” Wyatt said proudly. “I once blew the vault doors off a bank. I can take care of a little girl in a cape.”
“And her little dog, too?”
“Both of them.” Wyatt took another swig of sarsaparilla.
Right then the fog lifted just enough to reveal Jo and Raymond.
Wyatt took aim. BURRRRRRRP!
Just as before, the blast tossed Jo and Raymond off the ship. Raymond didn’t mind getting wet again. He was too busy enjoying the smell of his favorite breakfast meat.
But before they hit the water, Jo remembered the magic words. “Sponge cake!” she called out. This time, instead of splashing into the bay and sinking like a brick, she held on to Raymond and they hovered just above the surface.
“His burps are too powerful,” Jo said. “Got any ideas, Raymond?”
Raymond gave her a look that said, “Don’t look at me. I’m just a dog.”
By now the fog, which had formerly been as thick as peanut butter, concrete, a chocolate milk shake, and quicksand, had completely lifted, and Jo saw—
“An island,” she said. “Let’s go build a fire and dry out. I think better when I’m dry.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Raymond’s look said.
18
Jo Has a Plan
“Hey, isn’t that an island?” Festus the Number Two Man asked.
“That’s exactly what it is,” Wyatt replied. “I’m getting tired of this floating hideout. What do you say we take a floating-hideout break?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Festus the Number Two Man, who was beginning to feel seasick. So were most of the Hole in the Head Gang. They were bad guys, not sailors—they much preferred dry land.
“Hard to starboard,” Wyatt called out, and the ship headed to the island.
This, of course, was the very same island that Jo Schmo had discovered. While Wyatt Burp and the Hole in the Head Gang were sailing to one side of the island, Jo and Raymond were sitting before a raging fire on the other side, making plans. Or at least getting dry. Making plans would come later.
Darkness had come to the island occupied by a superhero and her dog on one side and a pack of havoc-wreakers on the other.
Jo and Raymond were now completely dry.
“Okay, Raymond, where does Wyatt Burp get his burping power?” Jo asked.
Raymond gave her a look that said, “Sarsaparilla. Even I know that, and I’m just a dog.”
“Right. So if we get rid of the sarsaparilla, Wyatt would burp just like anyone else.”
That was the plan. It’s amazing what you can come up with when you’re dry. And now that it was night, it was a perfect time to get the job done.
“Let’s go, Raymond.” Jo grabbed hold of her dog. “Sponge cake!” she yelled, and the two of them took off.
They rose above the island and spotted the ship on the other side. The members of the Hole in the Head Gang were now onshore, sitting before a huge fire. And there was Wyatt Burp himself. Next to him sat a large crate full of sarsaparilla bottles.
Jo and Raymond flew silently, and then they dropped into the woods just outside Wyatt’s camp. “Are you cold, Raymond?” she whispered to her dog.
Raymond gave her a look that said, “Nope. It’s a warm night.”
“So why are they all wearing scarves?”
“I know. What kind of bad guys are they?” Raymond’s look said.
Jo Schmo and Raymond waited at the edge of the woods until every member of the Hole in the Head Gang was sound asleep.
“Follow me,” Jo whispered.
They tiptoed into Wyatt’s camp and headed straight for the crate of sarsaparilla. Jo grabbed the crate and lifted it over her head. She was a superhero. She had no problem lifting gigantic things like boxes full of sarsaparilla. She carried the crate back to the woods and began pouring the contents of the bottles on the ground.
But what to replace it with? Jo looked at Raymond, who was drooling like crazy. He gave her a look that said, “I don’t smell bacon, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it.”
Dog drool, Jo thought. Perfect! She held one of the empty bottles under Raymond’s chin and filled it to the brim with dog drool.
Jo reached for another empty bottle and held it under Raymond’s chin. Then she grabbed another. And another. “Bacon,” Jo whispered when her dog started running out of slobber. “Pizza. Pork chops. Hamburgers. Meatballs.”
The more Jo named Raymond’s favorite foods, the more he drooled. Soon, all the sarsaparilla bottles in the crate had become Raymond-slobber bottles. Jo picked up the crate, walked it back into the camp, and laid it beside the sleeping Wyatt Burp. Then she stood back and yelled, “Wake up in the name of—”
“Wake up in the name of” sounded a whole lot like “Stop in the name of,” and Jo never knew quite how to finish that sentence. Wake up in the name of a little girl in a cape? Wake up because I want to see your boss drink dog drool?
Jo started again. “Wake up in the name of—”
By this time every member of the Hole in the Head Gang was wide awake. And starin
g right at—
“It’s the vampire!” Festus the Number Two Man yelled.
Vampire, thought Jo. What vampire? She looked around the camp. She was absolutely terrified of vampires. If there was a vampire in the area, she’d better say “Sponge cake” and get the heck out of there.
Raymond was also terrified of vampires. He gave Wyatt Burp a look that said, “Pardon me, but can I borrow your scarf?”
Wyatt was too busy reaching for a bottle of sarsaparilla. “Ha-ha!” he said. “I’ll take care of you. And your little dog, too.”
“My name is Raymond, not Too,” Raymond’s look said.
Wyatt took a huge swig of his favorite soft drink, then he reared back and gave it all he had.
19
Burp? What Burp?
Burp.
It was the tiniest burp in the long history of burping. Plus, it was the nastiest sarsaparilla Wyatt Burp had ever tasted. He took another drink and tried again.
Burp.
Festus the Number Two Man couldn’t believe his ears. Or his nose. Where was the sound of thunder? Where was the smell of bacon? “Boss? Don’t tell me you lost your ability to burp.” He pointed to Jo and Raymond. “Vampires. Remember?”
Jo was no vampire. She did, however, have a great Knuckle Sandwich. And a pretty good Russian Toe hold and Siberian Ear Tweak, for that matter.
