by Dan Danko
Completely unknown to Earlobe Lad, at that very moment, across the street from the park, on the other side of the Sidekick Super Clubhouse, deep inside the heart of the League of Big Justice, and despite my protests, Pumpkin Pete pressed the thirteenth button on the mysterious machine and blew up Donutz Village.
The blast sent Earlobe Lad sailing through the air like a Spandex-covered sidekick sailing through the air. Which made sense and all, since he was a Spandex-covered sidekick, and... uh...he was sailing through the air.
He landed in the tree, a thick, gnarled branch snagging on his Spandex and catching his fall. There he hung and watched as the other sidekicks showed up one-by-one. He had whispered for help as loudly as he could. When that didn’t work, he mumbled with all his might, but the only response he received was the response anyone would receive if they hung from the highest branch in a tree and whispered “Help me” to the people down the street.
On a normal day, he would’ve only had to wait until Exact Change Kid called roll, which was about once an hour. But on this day, Exact Change Kid’s usual roll call schedule was interrupted by my mom’s arrival in the family station wagon.
Half a day later, Earlobe Lad still hung there like a forgotten, Spandex-wearing piñata with giant ears and thoughts of doughnuts swirling through his head. At least he avoided Pumpkin Pete throwing him out the front door of my house, shouting, “Fly, Earboy! Fly!”
“Hey! Who are you supposed to be? Omelet Man?” a gruff-looking kid yelled up to Earlobe Lad. “You got egg powers or something?”
“No,” Earlobe Lad called back in a low, nearly inaudible voice. “I’m Earlobe Lad. I have super hearing.”
“Hey, Omelet Man! Where’s Waffle Boy?” A blond kid yelled up to Earlobe Lad.
“I told you, my name is Earlobe Lad!”
“Show us your egg powers!” a third boy laughed.
“I don’t have egg powers! I have super hearing.” “If you don’t have egg powers, then how come you’re covered in egg?”
Earlobe Lad thought for a second, then answered, “I’m not covered in —”
An egg splatted on Earlobe Lad’s face. The three boys laughed so hard they nearly cried.
“Go get ’em, Omelet Man!” the blond boy shouted, and threw another egg at Earlobe Lad.
The egg cracked across Earlobe Lad’s chest. Gooey yolk soaked into his Spandex. “Stop it! Don’t you know who I am? I’m a sidekick! I punch evil in the —”
“Egg powers, activate!” the gruff-looking boy yelled. A moment later, a barrage of eggs sailed toward Earlobe Lad and splattered across his body and the tree.
Earlobe Lad swung to the left. He swung to the right. He waved his arms and kicked his feet. He did everything he could to make sure that the three boys laughed even harder every time they hit him with an egg. “Could you at least pummel me with eggs a little more quietly?” Earlobe Lad moaned in a low voice.
“And this is for Donutz Village!” the blond boy yelled, and threw his final egg.
As he hung from the branches, egg dripping from his Spandex and face, Earlobe Lad could at least take consolation in one ridiculous fact: Although it was a result of Pumpkin Pete’s button-pushing, it cannot be denied that Earlobe Lad blew up before Boom Boy ever did.
“Say hello to Waffle Boy for us, Omelet Man!” the third boy chuckled as the threesome walked away.
“I already told you,” Earlobe Lad sighed, exhausted from the onslaught, egg dripping from his face and body, “my name is Earlobe Lad.”
Chapter Ten
Mikey’s Big Day
After seemingly endless hours of flying, the house finally landed with a booming THUD!
“Can I wear the Ruby Slippers first?” Spice Girl asked as she peaked out from behind the couch.
“For the last time, we’re not in Oz!” I growled. Spice Girl ran to the window. “Well, we’re not in Kansas anymore, either.”
“Where are we?” Spelling Beatrice looked at me.
I joined Spice Girl at the window. “I don’t think the Cloud People are behind this.”
I looked out the window. We were in the middle of a jungle. Vines and trees obscured my view. The air was warm and humid, and I thought I heard the sound of the ocean. We were like castaways, lost on some faraway tropical island, but instead of a boat with a hole in it, we had a flying house with no cable.
“We’re doomed!” Pete lamented as he scanned TV station after TV station of static.
No, this wasn’t the handiwork of the Cloud People. How could it be? Cloud People live in the clouds. That’s why they call themselves “Cloud People.” Although, to this day, Spice Girl still thinks that they call themselves “Clown People.”
“They’re not very funny,” Spice Girl had said as the Cloud People flew overhead and blasted downtown in their hovercraft.
“Invasion hordes are never funny!” I replied, diving out of the way of falling debris.
“Except for invading hordes of clowns,” Spice Girl corrected.
But, as I looked out the window, I knew two things for sure. Clowns, in fact, are not funny, and the Cloud People were not behind the transport of my house.
“Maaph ma pam ma maam? Ma pam pam ma maah phamm,” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy said.
“What?” I said.
“Maaph ma pam ma maam? Ma pam pam ma maah phamm,” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy repeated.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“MAAPH MA PAM MA MAAM? MA PAM PAM MA MAAH PHAMM!” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy yelled.
“Is it me? Am I the only one who has no idea what the heck he’s saying?” I turned to Boyin-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy’s Giant Hamster Ball of Justice. “What are you saying? WHAT?!” I banged on the side of the Hamster Ball of Justice.
“This is no time for jokes,” Exact Change Kid cut in. “Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy’s right. We need to devise a plan and do some recon.”
“He did not say that! How the heck do you know he said that?” I blurted.
The Sidekicks stared blankly at me.
“He’s about as funny as the Clown People,” Spice Girl commented.
“Run! Run! We’re under attack!” Pumpkin Pete shouted as he ran into the room. “They’re monsters, I tell ya! Monsters!”
Everyone dove for cover. I quickly crawled over to Pete. “What is it, Pete? Who’s attacking us?”
“Is it the flying monkeys?” Spice Girl asked. Pete’s eye darted about in a panic. “Worse! A billion, jillion times worse! It’s worse than worse! It’s really worse!”
“What is it, Pete? What?!”
“Look!” Pete thrust out a container of canned pumpkin. “I found it in the kitchen pantry!” he gasped. “Soon, they’ll be putting all of us in cans! Like cattle!”
I looked at the can. GOOD EATS PUMPKIN PIE FILLING. IF IT’S GOOD EATS, IT EATS GOOD! the label read.
“Pete, my mom bought that at the store,” I informed him. “It was for Thanksgiving.”
“Gaaah! It’s worse than I feared!” Pete howled. “They’re making my people into THANKSGIVING PIES!!!!”
“ATTENTION LEAGUE OF BIG JUSTICE!” a voice boomed over a loudspeaker. “PREPARE TO MEET YOUR DOOM!”
“Aaaaah! They’re coming for my head!” Pete shouted. He grabbed his orange skull and raced to the closet. “They want my big, fat, orange pumpkin head for Thanksgiving pie!!!!”
“ATTENTION LEAGUE OF BIG JUSTICE!” the voice called out again. “PREPARE TO MEET YOUR DOOM!”
“We got it the first time!” Boom Boy yelled out the front door.
“Why do they think we want to meet Doom?” Spice Girl asked.
“They didn’t say ‘meet Doom,’ ” I clarified. “They said ‘meet your doom.’ ”
“That’s silly,” Spice Girl snorted. “I don’t even have a doom. And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t call him ‘doom.’ I’d probably call him ‘Mr. Skittles.’ ”
Not that I’ve ever tried to
make sense out of anything Spice Girl has said, or, for that matter, anything Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy or Exact Change Kid have ever said, either, but before I could ask what in the world she was talking about, the loudspeaker spoke again.
“Okay, we’ve given you time to prepare to meet your doom, so, now that you are prepared to meet it, it is time for you to...uh... meet it.”
“Would you just shut up and blast them already?!” another voice complained over the loudspeaker.
“Give me back my microphone!” the first voice whined. “We agreed I was the one who got to tell the League of Big Justice to prepare to meet their doom! Why are you so mean? If you had a problem with it, you should have said something before!”
“I did say something, and you started to cry!” the second voice snapped. “I just went along with this stupid plan to shut you up!”
The bickering voices echoed through the loudspeaker, causing a feedback shriek. As the shrill sound died down, I could hear sniffling.
“Oh, great!” A third voice came over the loudspeaker. “She’s crying again! I totally hope you’re happy.”
“Ha! She always cries!” the second voice said. “’Cause you’re so mean!” the first voice barked. “Can I please finish now?”
There was a moment of silence. Then the first voice cleared her throat. “ATTENTION LEAGUE OF BIG JUSTICE!” the voice boomed. “PREPARE TO MEET YOUR —”
“Skip that part already!” the second voice yelled.
I wasn’t about to wait around for our mysterious hosts to decide what doom we should meet and when we should meet it. Besides, meeting doom is bad enough. Meeting doom in my house where it can see embarrassing photos of me, which I know my mom would be all too eager to show, is like meeting doom’s doom.
That’s just too much doom for one guy to take. Except maybe for Doom Doom Man. He had the power for people to meet him. Before he attacked, he would always shout stuff like “Prepare to meet me!” or “You have met your me!” and “Prepare to be covered in gooey maple syrup.” I don’t think maple syrup has anything to do with doom. I just think he liked to cover people in it.
“We’ve got to get out of here before they attack,” I warned the Sidekicks. “We’ve got to protect my mom!”
“And me!” Pumpkin Pete cried out from the closet. “I don’t want to be a pie!”
“Oh, son! I’m so proud of you!” my mom gushed. “But maybe all these people need is a good talking-to — just someone to sit them down and set them straight.”
“And give them a big hug,” Spice Girl added. “No! No hugs and no talking-to! These aren’t kids we’re talking about! They’re evil! They’re worse than evil! They’re evil with doom to be met! That doom may be a plan, it may be a horde, or it may just be a nasty bulldog with a bad attitude, but it’s still doom!” I zipped to the door and grabbed the knob. “Mom! Go hide somewhere!”
“I got dibs on the closet!” Pumpkin Pete yelled out from the closet.
“Once you’re safe, the Sidekicks and I will handle whatever waits beyond this door!” I continued. “Now who’s with me?”
“Maaa pam mam papm mah mamm! Mam! Mam! MAM! MAM!” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy shouted.
I leaned over to Spelling Beatrice. “Uh ...is he with me or against me?”
“With you.”
“Good.”
My palms were sweaty. The doorknob felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. My heart pounded in my chest. “I don’t know what dangers wait for us beyond this door....I don’t know what evil lurks beyond these walls ...but one thing I do know is that we’re superhero sidekicks! Sworn to protect good! Sworn to right wrongs! Sworn to —”
“Shut up and open the door already!” Boom Boy grumbled. “Always with the speeches, this guy.”
I turned the doorknob and flung open the door, only to be faced with the most terrifying sight the world had ever seen . . .
Teenage girls!
“So, who wants to be destroyed first?” the tall one asked.
Chapter Eleven
Mikey’s Summer Vacation
“Allow us to introduce ourselves,” the tall girl continued. “We are the Brotherhood of Rotten Babysitters!”
“But you’re girls,” Boom Boy commented. “And...?”
“Shouldn’t you be a sisterhood ?”
“I told you!” the thin girl snarled.
“Don’t blame me!” the girl with glasses defended. “I voted for ‘the Sisterhood of Rotten Babysitters.’ ”
“The Sisterhood of Rotten Babysitters?!” the tall one spat back. “We’d sound like a feel-good movie released in late summer! No one’s afraid of feel-good movies!”
“I am,” Exact Change Kid confessed. “They always have kissing.”
“Trust me, The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood ruined it for all us evil females,” the tall one said.
“I don’t care if you’re a brotherhood of girls or a sisterhood of guys, I just want to know why you ruined my house and brought us here!” I said.
“I’ll bet you’d just love to know the answer to that one.” The tall girl crossed her arms. A small smile cut across her face. She stood, silent, defiant, until the girl with glasses asked, “Well, are you going to tell them or what?”
“Look, you really have to work on your dramatic tension, Bunni!” the tall one scolded. “I thought we agreed: dramatic tension!”
“Pfft. It was more like dramatic boredom,” the girl who wasn’t Bunni commented, and rolled her eyes. “You were totally standing there with this total ‘duh’ expression on your face like you didn’t even know why we brought them here.”
“I know why we brought them here! Destroy the League of Big Justice? Hell-loo?! It was, like, my idea, Candi,” the tall one sneered.
“It was so not your idea!” Candi snorted. “You are totally trippin’ right now, Kiki.”
“Me? Trippin’?! Look in a mirror and check out the poster child for trippin’.”
“You’re just mad because Brad Jones totally asked me to Homecoming instead of you,” Candi mocked.
“Brad Jones!? He is so last semester!” Kiki snorted. “Hel-lo? I’m a junior now!”
“Uh... girls?” I interrupted. “Maybe we could get back to your evil plot and all?”
“STAY OUT OF THIS!” Kiki and Candi shouted at me.
So Kiki was the tallest one. She had black hair and always seemed to be scowling. Candi had blond hair, was thin, and rolled her eyes at a lot. Bunni had red hair, glasses, and liked to smile.
As Kiki and Candi bickered, Boom Boy whispered, “I call dibs on the blond one.”
“I like the blond one!” Exact Change Kid whispered back.
“I thought you liked brunettes,” Boom Boy replied.
“Usually I do. But I figure the blond one looks the nicest and maybe she won’t kill me,” Exact Change Kid confessed.
“Guys, I really think they’re here looking for a fight,” I informed them.
“Good! I like feisty girls!” Boom Boy clapped his hands together.
“No. I mean we have to fight them and stop them from destroying the League of Big Justice ... and us!”
“You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with the redhead!” Boom Boy sneered.
“Mam pam? Phaam ma ma paa?” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy joined in.
“Okay. You get the redhead. Just stay away from my girl!” Boom Boy warned him. “I really think she might be the one.”
“The one? The one to crush you under her evil boot heel, you mean!” I answered.
“I don’t know, but I’ve got a fistful of pennies ready just in case,” Exact Change Kid said. “I hate rejection.”
And, in fact, Exact Change Kid hated rejection so much, the moment that Kiki and Candi finished their argument, Exact Change Kid pelted them with a handful of change.
“Eat copper!” he shouted.
The coins hit the two girls and fell to the ground.
“So...if you’re free fo
r lunch later, maybe we could ...I mean ... unless you’re busy or . . . I ...uh...” Exact Change Kid fumbled for words.
Boom Boy dropped his head into his hands. “He is so killing our chances.”
“Maaa pa!” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy agreed. I think.
Kiki grabbed Exact Change Kid by the collar. “I have dealt with crying kids and dirty diapers. I’ve had juice spilled on me, SpaghettiOs thrown at me, strained peas flung at me, and gum stuck to me. I’ve been forced to watch Finding Nemo five hundred and thirty-six times and know every single lyric to every single song from every single Disney movie, sequel, prequel, DVD, direct-to-video video, special edition, and stage play. So don’t even think for a second that sixty-two pennies bouncing off my face would even make me blink — except for that one that actually hit me in the eye. Your coins can’t harm me! I’m made of steel ! I’m a babysitter !”
Exact Change Kid gritted his teeth and leaned closer to Kiki’s face. “Don’t think I won’t use quarters...”
“Would everyone just calm down and tell me who the heck you are?!” I shouted.
“And do you like pumpkin pie?” Pete’s faint voice called out from the closet.
“So,” Kiki began, letting go of Exact Change Kid, “you want to know the origin of the Brotherhood of Rotten Babysitters?”
“Yes!” the word exploded from my mouth.
Chapter Twelve
The Origin of the Brotherhood of Rotten Babysitters!
“We got tired of babysitting all those brats, so we became evil,” Kiki explained.
“Rotten,” Candi corrected.
“Rotten,” Bunni agreed.
Chapter Thirteen
The Revenge of Mikey!
“That’s it? That’s your big ‘origin’?!” I sputtered.
“Well, that and the aliens that blasted us with cosmic rays as we drove near the nuclear reactor while eating Pop Rocks and Pepsi and listening to CDs backwards during the lightning storm that happened on the same day as those mysterious sunspots that made the gamma bomb experiment to explode early, causing shards of the green meteor from this dying planet to hit us before we were safely out of Area 51, while watching the Janet Jackson halftime show from the Super Bowl. The next day we had super powers. But that part’s so five minutes ago,” Kiki explained.
