Sidekicks (7 page)

The ship shuddered. A bright red ray blasted from the front and shot down to Earth. Pumpkin Pete had just turned the state of Ohio into puppets.

“I didn’t do it!” he gasped.

“Uh... Pumpkin Pete? Maybe you should lay off the buttons for a while?” I said.

“Nonsense! My keen pumpkin senses have revealed the
one
button not to touch,” Pumpkin Pete reasoned and pushed another button.

“Airlock seals to self-destruct in T minus three minutes and counting.. .” a computer voice chimed.

“And now my keen pumpkin senses have revealed a
second
button to not touch,” Pumpkin Pete added, scratching his giant gourd head.

“So... what happens now?” I asked.

“Well...in two minutes the airlock seals blow and we all get sucked into space and popped like human balloons,” Peenoh Keeoh answered, shrugging his puppet shoulders. “Except for me. I’m made of wood.”

“Don’t worry. We can just swim home,” Spice Girl assured King Justice.

Everybody stood for a moment and stared at each other, not sure how to absorb this unforeseen turn of events. Santa Claws nonchalantly whistled “Jingle Bells” and slowly shuffled toward the door.

“T minus two minutes and fifty seconds...”

Suddenly Santa Claws bolted for the door and raced out of the main room. Le Poop, The Dentist, and Peenoh Keeoh — with his mind slave, of course — quickly followed after. Peenoh Keeoh stopped in the doorway.

“You’ve destroyed Ohio and yourselves!” he shouted, then raced down the hall.

“Wow. That is so ironic,” Spice Girl said.

“Actually, it’s more of a coincidence,” Mr. Ironic corrected.

“You’re right, it
is
a coincidence,” Spice added. “And that’s what makes it so ironic.”

“League of Big Justice! Sidekicks! Evacuate!” King Justice yelled and hoisted The Good Egg and The Stain over each shoulder like they were sacks of flour.

“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Pumpkin Pete said and raced from the room, arms empty. “Pumpkin feets, don’t fail me now!”

The rest of us grabbed or roused an unconscious hero or bad guy and ran to the escape pods. Depression Dave found a shovel and scooped up Jellyfish, who seemed to quiver with gratitude.

“T minus two minutes...”

Warning sirens blared through the ship as we ran to the escape pods like kids playing musical chairs. Each pod could only hold three people, so it would be tight. I saw an open pod door and raced over.

“Sorry! Only room for one!” Pumpkin Pete said, “And I have a big fat head. Like a pumpkin!” He hit the door seal and left me in the hall.

“Over here, son!” King Justice called out.

I raced to his pod and climbed in. It would be close, but it looked like all of us were going to be safe.

“T minus one minute and forty seconds...”

“That was close, King Justice, sir.”

“It sure was, Sporty. It sure was.”

So get this. I was riding in an escape pod with the founder of the League of Big Justice. So he didn’t know my name exactly, but “Sporty” was close enough. I wondered if now would be a bad time to ask for his autograph? Boy, would that just kill the other sidekicks when I showed them? I could just hear them all
oooh
-ing and
aaah
ing. Heck, that would probably be the first and only time I ever understood what Boy-in-the Plastic-Bubble Boy was trying to tell me. I could just see Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy’s face . . . when ...he... Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy . . . when he ... Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy ... Boy-in-the-Plastic — oh my gosh!

“We forgot Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy!” I yelled at King Justice as he was about to hit the door seal. “We left him stuck to the roof in his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice!”

“T minus one minute and thirty seconds . . .”

“Stay here, son,” King Justice said. “Don’t wait for us. Sometimes soldiers don’t return from the war.”

“You’ll never make it!” I warned him. Then I said something really surprising. No, not “Leave him,” which may have been a better idea. I didn’t even say, “My mistake, he was never here!” No. What I did say was, “Only my super speed has a chance!
I’ll
save him!”

I think the ship’s thin air was getting to me.

“You’re not going alone,” King Justice replied.

I touched his shoulder and looked into his eyes.

“Earth needs a King,” I said. “And Justice needs you.”

Oh, brother. Who knew I’d be so corny T minus one minute and ten seconds before I got sucked into space and popped like a human balloon?

Chapter Ten

Sucked into Space and Popped Like a Human Balloon

“T minus fifty-five seconds...”

“Shut up!” I yelled at the computer voice.

“Mmmmaph maaa!” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy shouted down to me from his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice that still hung high above the deck by a steel chain.

So this was the end. Everybody was safely on their way to Earth in the escape pods while I paced beneath the human Christmas tree ornament that dangled from the ceiling. I knew the job was dangerous when I took it, but, and this may sound crazy, I never thought I would really get hurt. Heroes aren’t supposed to get hurt. That’s why they’re heroes.

But in the real world, they do. And maybe that’s what really makes them heroes — because they’re not perfect or superhuman; because they bleed and break like everyone else; because they might die, but they still rush into danger.

King Justice was right. Sometimes soldiers don’t return from the war.

“T minus fifty seconds . . .”

No. I may not return from this war, but I sure was going down fighting! I wasn’t going to quit. I would never quit, no matter the odds! I used my super speed to leap onto Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy’s Giant Hamster Ball of Justice. No throbbing ankle pain could stop me now.

“T minus forty-five seconds...”

I landed near the top of the Giant Hamster Ball of Justice and immediately slipped down the side and fell to the floor.

“T minus forty seconds...”

It was a tough decision, saving Boy-in-thePlastic-Bubble Boy or smashing that stupid computer voice with a crow bar. I couldn’t do both. Luckily for Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy, I didn’t have a crow bar.

I tried again, racing even faster. I slapped against the ball and started to slide down the side again. I strained my arm muscles and stretched my hand in a frantic effort to grab the chain that held the ball in place. My fingers reached like a lazy man desperately stretching for the TV remote that fell off the couch.

“T minus thirty-five seconds...”

Inches. Tiny inches to go. Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy pressed his face against the concave wall of his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice. His cheek squished like a bowl of pink Jell-O.

Maybe the cheek helped. Maybe my fingers were just a tiny bit longer than I had remembered, but I reached the chain and pulled myself up. At the very top was a release lever.

I pulled it. The Giant Hamster Ball of Justice fell and bounced hard on the deck below. I slid off the top, plopped on the ground, and was instantly crushed by Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy as he rolled screaming for the door.

Some days it just doesn’t pay to save anyone.

“T minus thirty seconds...”

“MMAA PAM MAM PAM MAM!” Boy-in-the Plastic-Bubble Boy screamed as he banged his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice against the tiny doorway. I don’t know how the Brotherhood of Rottenness got him into this room, but there was no way he was getting out; not without a jackhammer and twenty pounds of butter.

“You won’t fit!” I shouted.

“Mmaa pam mam pam mam...?” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy whined.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“T minus twenty-five seconds...”

So there I was, about to get sucked into space and . . . well ... you know ... and my last twenty seconds of life were being spent with a kid in a giant hamster ball who kept saying “Mmaa pam mam pam mam” over and over, as if I actually understood the difference between “mam” and “pam.” I mean, he could’ve just said “pam pam pam pam pam pam pam.” Made no difference to me. Why waste time and throw “mam” in there?

Why? Because that was just the kind of sidekick Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy was. That’s why.

“T minus twenty seconds...”

Maybe they’d build a statue to honor us. Or even have a “Death of Speedy” polyvinyl-chloride special collector’s edition statuette for sale in the League of Big Justice Super Souvenir Gift Shop. They’d better at least retire my number.

“Here’s your number,” Pumpkin Pete had said to me at my orientation and handed me a Post-It with two digits scribbled on it.

“Twenty-six? What’s this for?”

“If you die, we retire it. Like baseball.”

“But no one dies in baseball.”

“I know,” Pumpkin Pete sighed. “That’s why it’s so boring.”

So that’s what I had to look forward to. Maybe a plastic toy and my yellow Post-It hanging on the wall in the new Planet Superhero restaurant, right next to Lipstick Lydia’s mascara brush.

Why didn’t I listen to my brother? Why didn’t I become Junior Assistant Florist?

“Just think, you can run around and hand out flowers,” he had told me.

“T minus fifteen seconds . . .”

Suddenly the large display screen clicked on and an enormous image of Peenoh Keeoh, filled the room.

“As you get sucked into space, King Justice, remember it was I, Peenoh Keeoh, who sent you there! That’s right! The little puppet with strings destroyed the greatest good the world has ever known! I, Peenoh Keeoh, destroyed King Justice! Chew on that, King! Hahahahahahaha...”

“He’s gone,” I said to the screen.

“Hahahahaha — what?” Peenoh Keeoh cut his laugh short with a choking cough. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

“He left in an escape pod.”

“What!? When did this happen? Why wasn’t I informed!?” Peenoh Keeoh turned his head and glared at his mind slave and then turned back to face me. “Then tell the rest of the pathetic League of Big Justice to step forward so they can look upon the face of their doom!”

“They all went with King Justice.”

“So who am I killing then? The Good Egg, perhaps? Please tell me at least Ms. Mime is still there?”

“Nope. Both gone. It’s just me and Boy-inthe-Plastic-Bubble Boy.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Peenoh Keeoh sighed and rubbed his pine forehead with his little wooden hand. “All I did was turn Ohio into puppets and kill a kid in a hamster ball and you!?”

“Well... technically ... Pumpkin Pete turned Ohio into puppets,” I corrected.

“Why do I even bother!?” Peenoh Keeoh moaned.

“Welcome to my life,” Depression Dave grumbled, leaning forward so I could finally see he was in the same escape pod as Peenoh Keeoh.

Then the screen went black.

“T minus ten...nine...eight...”

The saddest thing of all was that I had only nine more seconds to contemplate the love of my life: Prudence Cane. You couldn’t think about her enough in nine lifetimes, and there I was with less time than it took to drive Earlobe Lad crazy to consider all things Prudence.

Man, is life unfair.

“Seven...six ...five... four...”

I looked to Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy. We both gave a brave nod to each other and prepared for the end.

“Three...two...one ... airlock seals self-destruct.”

There was a terrible groan from the ship, like its insides were being sucked out through a straw. The airlock seals on the outer hull blew, and the ship immediately began to decompress.

A tremendous suction filled the room and pulled me and Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy toward the door. I raced against the suction as fast as I could but only managed to move several feet away. Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy ran in his Giant Hamster Ball of Justice, but the power of the suction was so great, he just ran in place like he was on a hamster wheel.

“Faster!” I shouted to him. “Run faster!”

He redoubled his efforts, but to no avail. The spinning Hamster Ball of Justice slowly slid toward the door — the last threshold between us and the vacuum of outer space.

Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy fell to his knees, exhausted. Unable to fight against the suction, the tremendous force sucked the Giant Hamster Ball of Justice toward the opening.

This was the end.

The Giant Hamster Ball of Justice slammed hard against the door opening, and suddenly, the suction died. Without the incredible force pulling me back toward the door, I shot forward and smashed against the far wall.

I hit the console hard and slumped to the ground. The pain was intense, but it couldn’t stop me from laughing. There, across the room, Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy’s Giant Hamster Ball of Justice — his wonderful, amazing, incredible, Giant Hamster Ball of Justice — was lodged in the door like a giant cork, cutting the room off from the rest of the ship.

While the remainder of the ship decompressed and was sucked into the vacuum of space, we were safe, a new seal created by Boyin-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy.

He was laughing even harder than me. He was on his knees at the bottom of his ball. Tears ran down his red cheeks and he pumped a triumphant fist into the air.