Shivers froze. A single bead of sweat dripped off his forehead and onto the floor. (It was immediately slurped up by a spider.) But he knew he had to stay focused.
“Maybe this would make it more comfortable . . .” Shivers untied his cape and swept it along the dusty floor, gathering a pile of cobwebs and moth mold and scooping it into the cape. It was gross, but it was also very soft. He tied the cape up into a sack, making a homemade pillow. He placed it on the chair. “Why don’t you try it out?”
The guard eyed him suspiciously through his thick, black-rimmed glasses, but then he sat back down. He bounced up and down, testing out the pillow. A couple of plumes of dust squeezed from the sides, but it was very comfy. “Not bad,” he admitted. As he snuggled into the pillow, Shivers could see his eyelids begin to get heavy. So he kept going.
“You know what you need?” Shivers cooed. He ran to a window and cracked it open. “The soothing sounds of the ocean.” The soft sound of waves crashing in the distance floated through the hallway.
“That’s nice,” said the guard, a sleepy smile on his face.
The whole thing was so peaceful, Shivers let out a yawn. It was just a small one—what Shivers called a yawnlet. But he fought through it and pressed on. “What good is a pillow and some easy breezes without a blanket and something to snuggle with?” he said gently. He whisked the guard’s jacket from the back of his chair and wrapped it around him, tucking him in. Then he took off his left bunny slipper, patted it on the head, and nestled it in the guard’s arms. Finally, he sat down beside the chair and began to sing one of his favorite songs.
Within moments, the guard fell fast asleep, his mustache bristles ruffling with every snore. Margo tiptoed over.
“Great job, Shivers!” she whispered.
“Thanks!” he whispered as he gently took his slipper back. “Now, we just have to be really quiet—”
“What are you guys whispering about?!” Brock shouted, coming up behind them.
“Shhhh!” Margo and Shivers glared at him.
“Shivers just put that guard to sleep,” Margo explained softly.
“Wow!” Brock said, a little more quietly than before. “How did you do it? Did you sing him a lullaby?”
“A lullaby?!” Shivers balked. “I hardly knew him! I sang him a lulla-hello.”
“Brock, how did you get away from all those other guards?” Margo asked.
“I shouted that they were out of coffee and they ran away.” Brock shrugged.
“I guess the coast is clear, then,” Margo said. Then she turned to Shivers. “Would you like to do the honors?” She smiled and handed him the key to Vault 25. He took a deep breath and turned the key in the lock. With a satisfying CLICK, the door to the vault creaked open. The tiny room was filled from front to back with odds and ends from every corner of the earth. A small barred window let in a slice of sunlight, and as their eyes adjusted, they saw what was standing in the middle.
“The Treasure Torch,” Shivers whispered.
“The Treasure Torch,” Margo whispered.
“THE TREASURE TORCH!” Brock whispered in his softest shout.
The Treasure Torch was even more amazing than any of them had imagined. It towered over them in all its torchiness. Its shiny surface sparkled where the light hit it, sending beams of golden glow bouncing throughout the room.
They all ran into the vault. Brock pumped his fists in the air. Margo skipped around the torch with glee. Albee did a celebratory water dance. Shivers walked right up to the torch, stretched his arms out, and hugged it as tightly as his little muscles would allow. “Hello, big guy,” he whispered. “You’re mine now.”
But then a shadowy figure emerged from behind the door and slammed it shut. “Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you!”
They all turned to see the shimmer of three silver teeth hiding inside a crooked smile. It was Francois.
“AAAAGH! THE GHOST OF Francois!!” Shivers screamed.
“No, it’s the person of Francois!” he shook his head in disbelief. “It’s me!”
“AAAAAGH! That’s also terrifying!”
“Welcome to my vault.” Francois stepped toward them, his thin gray mustache twitching menacingly. “Where I keep my most valuable treasure.” He gestured proudly toward the Treasure Torch. “Along with the gruesome artifacts that those fools at the Frank Fest couldn’t even stomach. Especially this jar full of stomachs!” He held up a murky jar.
Shivers, Margo, and Brock nervously backed away from him.
“First, you blow up my brother. And then you try to take away my most precious treasure. Now, it’s time for you to pay the price,” he said, advancing toward them.
Brock stepped backward, crashing into a cluster of old canary cages.
Shivers pleaded, “But I need the Treasure Torch to get my home back.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Francois cackled. “They say home is where the heart is. Welcome to your new home!” he pointed to a basket full of dried hearts. “Time to add to my collection.”
The color in Shivers’s face drained away like bathwater at bedtime.
Francois rifled through a drawer, then pulled out a rusty hammer and a heart-shaped cookie cutter. “Hold still, please!”
“AAAAAAAAAGH!” Shivers darted away from him and Margo and Brock followed.
“Quick, over here!” Shivers cried, running behind a glass case. “We’ll be safe behind this display of comfy little beds!”
“Those are cockroach coffins from Caracas!” Francois bellowed as he leaped behind the case.
“AGGGHH!!” Shivers jumped as far away as he could.
Margo and Brock ran to opposite corners. Shivers tore across the vault, clutching Albee’s bag so tightly he was worried it was going to pop like the beach ball.
“Under here!” he cried, diving into a pile of what looked like little black sponges. He felt them brush against his face and couldn’t help but snuggle in. “Wow, these miniature pillows feel like velvet!” he said, smushing them against his cheek.
“Actually, those are dried tiger tongues from Tangiers,” said Francois.
“AAAGHHHH!” Shivers burst out of the pile, flinging tiger tongues everywhere. He was out of hiding places, so he ran to the only comfy thing in sight: a tattered, yellow armchair. He curled up in it and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the worst.
“Careful in that armchair.” Francois laughed. “It’s made of real arms.”
Shivers shot up and screamed, his feet bouncing and wiggling across the floor.
Francois chased after him. “I’ve got you now!” He picked up a broom and started shaking it at him.
“AGGHH! A BROOM!” Shivers screamed.
“It’s not a broom, it’s a rat rake from Rwanda!” Francois moved closer to Shivers, but just as he was about to rake him, Brock appeared in the dim, dusty light. He was holding one of the old canary cages above his head. “Bye-bye, Birdie!” he said. He brought the cage down over Francois’s head, stuffed him inside, and shut the door. Margo crammed a toothpick into the lock, then snapped it in half so it would stick.
“Not my turquoise toothpick!” Francois cried.
“Where’s that from?” asked Shivers.
“Target. It was on sale,” Francois explained. “Now, let me out! Let me out! Let me out!”
Brock stuffed a tiger tongue in Francois’s mouth so he couldn’t make any more noise.
Margo looked through the little window. There was still a sliver of sun hovering above the horizon, like a bald guy bobbing out at sea. “Let’s get that torch back to the mayor. Time is running out.”
Brock summoned up the might of all of his muscles and hoisted up the hulking Treasure Torch. “It’s . . . so . . . heavy,” he grunted, lumbering toward the door.
“I’ll get it!” Margo said. She quickly turned the key and threw it back in her backpack. Then she pulled the door open.
Standing in the doorway, with her hands on her hips and a
wry smile on her face, was Mayor President. “Fancy meeting you here,” she said. She was standing in front of the same slew of interns in suits that they had seen that morning. Her photographer was at her side.
“Mayor President!” Shivers said, looking absolutely astonished. “Well, call this convenient! Brock, you can put the torch down.”
“But I just picked it up!” Brock whined, letting it drop to the ground with a crash.
“How did you find us here?” Margo asked, completely confused.
“It wasn’t easy. You’re a man of many mysteries, Shivers the Pirate. Or should I say . . . Shivers the Pie Man?!”
Shivers, Margo, and Albee looked at each other, baffled.
“Oh, still playing the confused card, are you?” Mayor President snapped. “This morning, you pretended you didn’t know where the torch was, and now you’re pretending you didn’t know I was having you followed all day!”
“Followed?!” Shivers balked.
“Of course! That’s why you led us on a wild-goose chase all over the Eastern Seaboard, isn’t it? To try to shake our tail? But luckily, my photographer was faster than you thought. He led me straight to you.” She turned to her photographer. “Isn’t that right . . . Frank? If that is your real name.”
“It’s not! It’s still Roger!” The photographer said, ripping off a fake Frank name tag that was stuck to his shirt. Then he handed the mayor a stack of photographs. She fanned them out for Shivers and Margo to see.
“First, you tried to hide in a hallway like a wiener.”
“Then, you tried to pull that Frank prank. But you walked right into our trap! And by trap, I mean photo booth!”
“Then you tried to slip away at sea! You almost lost us there, but you know what they say: ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.’”
“And now, here we are. Once you thought you’d finally lost us, you came here to move your treasure to a new hiding place. You may be a criminal mastermind, but I’ve got enough minds to master any pirate.”
Shivers was speechless. But that was okay because Margo was speechful. She looked up at the mayor defiantly. “You’ve got it all wrong! Shivers isn’t a criminal!”
“Oh really?! He killed that guard outside the vault!”
“He’s not dead, he’s just taking a really great nap!!” Shivers insisted.
“Enough with your lies! Time to take my treasure!”
“Your treasure?” Margo asked.
“I’ve got a few tricks up my own sleeve.” Mayor President smiled. “Or should I say . . . my own pantaloons!” She ripped off her suit jacket, revealing a tattered velvet pirate coat. Then she yanked at what looked like a loose thread at her waist and her pants bunched up like curtains, transforming into billowing pantaloons. She kicked off one of her boots. Where her foot should have been, there was only the frayed wood of a rotting peg leg.
Margo and Brock screamed. Shivers was stunned. “You’re not a mayor, you’re a—”
“Pirate! That’s right!”
Behind her, all the men and women tore off their business suits, unveiling their true appearances—hollowed eye sockets and half-eaten ears, chipped teeth and chapped lips.
“And those aren’t interns, those are—”
“Pirate interns! That’s right!”
“That’s definitely not what I was going to guess,” said Shivers.
The mayor nodded back at her mangy crew. They swarmed into the vault, lifted the Treasure Torch above their heads and scurried away like cockroaches from a lamp light.
The mayor beamed. “Now that I have the Treasure Torch, I’m the most powerful pirate in the Seven Seas! No thanks to you, Shivers.”
Shivers piped up, “But Mayor President . . . or whoever you are—”
“You can still call me Mayor President. Because now I’m the mayor of the Seven Seas!” She thought for a moment. “And the president, too! And I will have any treasure I please!”
“But I never even wanted that torch! I just wanted my home back.”
“You know, they say home is where the heart is . . .”
Shivers sighed. “Again? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“YOU LIVE HERE NOW!” She busted out a belly laugh made of pure evil. “I can’t have such a clever pirate sailing the Eastern Seas, trying to plunder my treasure.”
Shivers trembled in his bunny slipper as more pirate interns flooded into the vault, blocking the path to the door.
Brock shook his head. The gears inside were moving, but just a little too slowly. “I don’t understand. I thought she was a mayor!”
“Things aren’t always what they seem.” She glanced around the vault and noticed Francois, still inside the birdcage. “Just like this canary appears to be a man. I will take him as my pet.”
A group of pirate interns carried Francois out.
The mayor turned to leave, but then she whirled around to face them once again. “And one more thing, I need an intern to sift through the seaweed on my new pirate ship. Someone spunky. With small hands. Who can sleep in a slop bucket.” She pointed at Margo. “She’ll do.”
“SHIVERS!” Margo screamed as four grizzled pirates scooped her up. “HELP!!”
But all he could do was yelp. “MARGO!!!!”
One of the pirates took off Margo’s green backpack and tossed it to the floor. The silver key tumbled out. The mayor plucked it up and threw it like a dart across the vault and out the barred window. Shivers froze in a stunned silence until he heard the soft PLINK! of the key landing outside.
“Have a super-amazing day!” the mayor said.
Shivers and Brock rushed to get out, but before they could even take two steps, the pirates whisked Margo away and the mayor slammed the vault door with a
“NO!!!!” SHIVERS SHOUTED, HIS face so full of horror it looked like he had just gulped a gallon of sour milk.
“I’ll get us out!” Brock shouted. He charged at the door headfirst and smacked into it, falling onto the floor in a heap. The door didn’t budge. Plus, it opened inward, so it really wasn’t a great idea from the get-go. “Ow,” he said, rubbing the big, red lump that was forming where his blond hair met his goofy face.
“Help!! Let us out!!” Shivers screamed, but no one answered. The only person around was the guard, but apparently he was still sleeping. Shivers bitterly kicked the door. “Why do I have to be so good at lulling people into cozy naps?! We’re going to be stuck in here forever!”
“You mean . . . we’re bankers now?” This time it was Brock who was horrified.
“No! Brock! We’re trapped! By the time anyone finds us, we’ll be dried up like a couple of tiger tongues! And Albee will be nothing but a fish fossil! The poor guy hasn’t eaten since this morning!”
Brock picked a tin can up from one of the shelves. “Look! Here’s a can of fish flakes! Albee can have a little snack!”
Shivers grabbed the can and read the label aloud. “‘Fish Flakes from Finland. Made from One Hundred Percent Dead Fish.’”
Albee was absolutely appalled.
In a fit of frustration, Shivers chucked the can across the vault. It exploded against the wall in a plume of fishy dust.
“Don’t worry, little brother, we’ll figure out something!”
“When?! How?! Margo needs us right now. The worst part of all this isn’t that we’re stuck in here, it’s that she’s stuck out there, sleeping in President Psycho’s slop bucket! And it’s all my fault!” He slumped to the floor, feeling more crushed than a can kicked down a canyon. Albee tried to pat him on the shoulder, but he just couldn’t reach.
“It’s not your fault,” Brock insisted. “It’s Mayor President’s fault for being such a bad mayor! Or . . . such a good pirate! I’m still so confused.” He scratched his head. “Still, there’s got to be a way to smash out of here.”
Shivers didn’t answer. He just stared glumly out the window. And that gave Brock an idea.
“Hey, maybe I could cram you through those window
bars!!”
“What?!”
But before Shivers could protest any more, Brock hoisted him onto his hulking shoulders and carried him over to the window. Shivers gripped the bars to steady himself.
“Now think like a juicer and squeeze!” Brock screamed, pushing Shivers in the pantaloons.
Shivers’s face smushed against the bars. Brock pushed harder, but Shivers’s head was much too big to fit through. “It’s not going to work, Brock! My head is too big.”
But then, out of the corner of his eye, Shivers spied a glint of metal. He gasped so hard he nearly choked. “The key!” he said. “It’s down there!” The key was caught in the branches of a bush at the base of the bank building.
“Grab it!!” Brock urged.
Shivers stuck his scrawny arm through the bars and grasped for the key but his hands came up emptier than his post-breakfast popcorn bowl. “I can’t get it! It’s too far away!”
“Let me try! I’ve got longer arms than you!” Brock said, setting Shivers back down on the floor. Shivers breathed a sigh of relief.
“Stand still. Coming up!” Brock said. Shivers immediately unbreathed the sigh of relief and sucked in a gasp of fear as Brock jumped onto his shoulders. They came crashing to the floor before Albee could even say “Timber!”
Brock brushed himself off, but Shivers stayed on the floor in a puddle of misery. Even though the key was right outside, they were just as trapped as ever. “If Margo were here, she’d know what to do,” he whimpered.
“Would she tell you to stop weeping like a willow and feeling sorry for yourself?” Brock snapped.
Shivers thought for a moment. “I think she’d tell me that bravery comes from within. But I don’t know what that means.”
“Maybe it means from within her backpack!” Brock picked up Margo’s big green backpack, which had been on the floor of the vault ever since the pirates took her away. Brock unzipped it and turned it upside down. Everything inside came tumbling out: a pack of pencils, a green bandanna, a yellow banana, an old stick, a fish stick, and a pile of other stuff that Brock didn’t even notice because he was fixated on one thing: The yo-yo from Frank Fest with an F on both sides. He picked it up and tried to hand it to Shivers. “You can use it to hook the key!”
The Pirate Who's Back in Bunny Slippers Page 6
