The Great Powers Outage (11 page)

“Goodness gracious, what's makin' you young uns say such things?” asked Whistlin' Dixie, having moseyed over to see what the fuss was all about. “Don't y'all know that Pseudo-Chips are made fer regular old plain folks like you and me?”

“Yah, and I svear by zem,” added Mannequin. “Zey help keep my skin zmooth and zupple.”

We were getting the hard sell from the League of Ultimate Goodness, but it was about to get worse.

“Everybody loves Pseudo-Chips,” another, more compelling voice rose above the rest.

The LUGs all moved aside to reveal the Red Menace as he stepped off the float and came over to face us. For the first time I was seeing him close up and I was struck by how old he was.

“The rest of you can continue to the factory,” he instructed the members of the league.

As they did so, the parade moved ahead, now under the much less compelling direction of Major Bummer.

“I don't know about you,” the Major sighed into the bullhorn, “but whenever I think of Dr. Telomere's chips, I get so depressed.” And so did the crowd as his mood was transferred to them.

“Why don't you children want to come along with lovable old Comrade Crunch?” the Red Menace asked with a calculating smile as he approached us in his role as Superopolis's favorite grandfatherly figure.

“We're not interested in him,” I replied, despite a strong urge to find him “lovable.” “But we
are
interested in the Red Menace.”

“Aha!” he said to my surprise as his smile changed to one of genuine delight. “So I haven't been forgotten. I was beginning to think that no one but a few old codgers remembered who I was. And even as I encounter those few who do, I find myself needing to remind them of how much good I did for the city of Superopolis.”

So that explained the Inkblot's altered views on the Red Menace.

“Nobody seems to remember much about the past,” I stated, “let alone what you tried to do.”

“That's why I'm back.” The Red Menace's eyes narrowed as he viewed me with suspicion. “To complete the task that was interrupted all those years ago—the task of bringing order and equality to everyone. It's a noble task, don't you agree?”

“Those sound like good things,” Stench said almost robotically as the villain's full power was unleashed on us. I forced myself to resist it.

“No, I don't agree,” I shot back. The Red Menace recoiled as if I had struck him.

“So you can resist my power,” he sneered. “There have always been a few people who can. But it doesn't really matter. My plan is moving forward and nothing is going to stop it.”

“What plan?” I pressed. “What are you trying to do?”

“It's all right in front of you.” He swept his hand to indicate the crowd of followers as they continued to move along. “The people are helping me with my quest to make everybody perfect by first making every potato chip perfect. It's an apt metaphor.”

“What do you mean?” I asked warily.

“Potatoes are like people. They're all basically the same, but they do have subtle differences that create havoc and disarray if they're left on their own. You see it in regular potato chips the way they're all dissimilar,” he explained with distaste. “But if you mash them all into a uniform paste, you can stamp them out into identical forms; bake them; and bring unity, order, and perfection.”

My eyes widened in alarm as the Red Menace completed his analogy.

“I intend to do the same thing with the people of Superopolis, and Pseudo-Chips will be my tool for accomplishing it.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Promises, Promises

The Red Menace had admitted right to our faces that he was using the chips as his tool to complete his lifelong plot against the people of Superopolis. And yet I still had no idea what exactly he was trying to pull off, let alone how he intended to use the chips to do it. The best thing to do would be to stop people from eating them. But how?

As I arrived at school on Thursday, another problem reared its ugly head—so to speak. Melonhead was standing next to the school flagpole attempting to give a speech.

“Attenthun, fellow thtudenth of Watthon Elementary,” he was spitting and spattering. “Choothe me ath your clath prethident and I promithe that I'll bring AI himthelf to the thchool to therve uth hith Amathing Theudo-Chipth during every thingle clath.”

Melonhead's ability to deliver on such a promise was impossible—but as with any good politician, he didn't let that stop him. Fortunately no one was hearing his pandering pledges. There was too much competition for my schoolmates' attention.

Plasma Girl and Little Miss Bubbles were handing out miniature tea scones that they had spent all last night baking in their Amazing Indestructo Thermal Ovens. They were passing them out to anyone who would come close enough to hear Tadpole making his own speech. The Spore was trying something similar as part of his unchallenged race to be class coroner, but so much mold had spread over the cookies he was giving out that he wasn't getting any takers. That didn't seem to bother him, though, and he stopped his speech every few minutes to eat another one himself.

Transparent Girl hadn't let up at all in her campaign against me for treasurer. She wasn't even attempting to be subtle. She had gone straight to handing out money. But despite her offer of a dime to anyone who would come close enough to hear Melonhead speak, she still wasn't succeeding in drawing a crowd to him.

“No one wants to stop and listen,” she complained to Cannonball, who had also noticed the difficulty his candidate was having in attracting any attention.

“Hmm. Give me a hand,” he said to his best friend, Lobster Boy, who was standing next to him. But Lobster Boy didn't move. He just stood there, his claws shoved deep into his pockets and a look of concern on his face. Cannonball snorted in annoyance as, all on his own, he grabbed Melonhead by the shirt collar and wrapped the flagpole line around his chest. As Melonhead spluttered in alarm, Cannonball pulled on the cable, hoisting the startled presidential candidate into the air.

“Thuffering thethame!” Melonhead wailed. “What'th the crathy idea?”

“Now people will pay some attention,” Cannonball declared confidently.

Sure enough, kids came wandering from all directions, not wanting to miss the physical humiliation of one of their fellow students.

“There. You've got a crowd,” the bully told him. “So talk—and remember what I told you to say.”

“Yeth, thir,” replied a clearly intimidated Melonhead. “If elected, fellow thtudenth, I promithe that everyone will rethieve thtraight Ath on their report cardth, no matter how bad their gradeth are. I will altho abolith all tethting and quiththeth.”

The crowd erupted in an approving cheer despite the ridiculous impossibility of what Melonhead was promising.

Tadpole was completely peeved by this new ploy, and I watched as he whispered something in Stench's ear. It was imperative that this speech be broken up before Melonhead made any more preposterous pledges. As Stench elbowed his way to the center of the crowd around the flagpole, I knew what solution Tadpole had proposed. I held my breath and backed away quickly. A moment later a loud noise ripped through the mob of kids, and there was a mass stampede outward from the center amid shrieks and cries of horror. A space instantly cleared to reveal a totally embarrassed-looking Stench. I felt bad for him as he removed a spray can from his utility belt and began to deodorize the air around him. At least he had broken up the crowd.

Following the mob into the school, we all tried to reassure Stench.

“Don't be embarrassed.” Plasma Girl patted him on the back. “That was the fastest way to deal with the situation, and you did it perfectly.”

“Except he won't be able to be there every time Cannonball tries spreading his garbage around,” Tadpole complained. “I say we just start making even bigger promises.”

“But that isn't right,” protested Plasma Girl. “We can't sink to their level.”

“Why not?” Tadpole complained. “What's the point of losing honorably?”

“Plasma Girl's right,” I agreed. “Their lies will eventually get them in trouble.”

Tadpole looked skeptical, but the first bell of the day rang before he could respond. As we turned to head for the front doors, a voice overhead squeaked miserably.

“Thay, I don't thuppothe thomeone would mind helping me down?”

Lobster Boy stopped for a moment as if he was going to assist Melonhead, but then he kept walking, never removing his claws from his pockets.

The thought of leaving Melonhead hanging was tempting, but in the end, Stench and I helped lower him to the ground. He didn't even bother to thank us.

Inside the classroom, the campaigning continued. Cannonball was announcing to the class that if he and Melonhead were elected, everyone in the class would be made a member of the League of Ultimate Goodness. It's true that Cannonball's uncle, the Crimson Creampuff, was in the league, but I doubted he had that kind of pull. Nevertheless, my classmates were falling for it.

Tadpole sat at his desk fuming as he watched any hope of victory being stolen out from under him. Plasma Girl was doing her best to calm down her running mate.

“We can't win by copying their tactics,” she said. “We need an original strategy of our own.”

“I'll show you an original strategy,” he growled. Without even turning around, Tadpole's tongue shot out and looped behind him to where Cannonball stood atop his desk speaking. His tongue wrapped around the leg of the desk and gave it a sharp tug.

In mid-sentence, Cannonball came tumbling down, sending all my classmates running. It was pure mayhem as Miss Marble entered the room. She didn't even bother to say anything before she turned us all into living statues. I was caught in an uncomfortable twist of my waist, having been in the process of turning to witness Cannonball's downfall. But it was nothing compared to Cannonball himself. Flat on his back, both his legs and arms were stretched up toward the ceiling, like a turtle stuck on its back. The most hysterical bug-eyed scream I had ever seen was frozen on his face. I would have laughed if I could have.

“You're worse than a pack of wild animals,” Miss Marble began to rant, “which makes today's activity all the more appropriate. Rather than wasting time teaching you things you'll forget an hour later, today we're going on a field trip.”

A class trip! A chance to get out of the school for the day and investigate some (usually boring—but who cares?) part of Superopolis! I hoped it would be someplace fun.

“This trip is to see something I know you'll all
love
,” Miss Marble continued with sarcasm. She smirked, and then went in for the kill.

“Today you'll have the pleasure of hearing a live political speech from none other than Mayor Whitewash himself.”

As her power began to wear off, I heard the first groans issuing from the mouths of my classmates. Yet even as my own range of movement returned, I noticed that her triumphant grin was fading. There was more that she hadn't told us.

“Of course,” she added with a reluctant sigh, “the speech will be taking place at the Superopolis Zoo.”

The class erupted in cheers, as Miss Marble rolled her eyes in annoyance.

CHAPTER TWELVE

What's New at the Zoo?

The school bus dropped us off at the main entrance to the Superopolis Zoo. It was a beautiful, mild October day and the place was busier than normal. There were a number of school field trips just like ours, and even a few people—very few—who had come specifically to hear the mayor's speech.

Mayor Whitewash had always been a successful politician because of his power to convince people to agree with whatever he said. It wasn't as powerful a gift as the Red Menace's ability to make people
do
whatever he said, but I wondered if he couldn't still somehow convince people to stop eating Pseudo-Chips. I was hoping this unexpected trip to the zoo might provide an opportunity for me to enlist his help.

Miss Marble led us through the twisting trails of the zoo, past cages of lions and swamps full of alligators, fields of elephants and pools of penguins, hills riddled with prairie dogs and trees full of monkeys. I had been here dozens of times, but today something seemed odd.

LI'L HERO'S HANDBOOK

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