LI'L HERO'S HANDBOOK
PEOPLE
NAME:
Inkblot, The.
POWER:
The ability to repel ink from his body.
LIMITATIONS:
Only able to write in pencil.
CAREER:
Owner and operator of Inkblot's Newsstand on the southeast corner of Lava Park.
CLASSIFICATION:
Still awaiting his big break as a crime fighter despite smudges on his record.
He was certainly right about that this time. I scanned the headlines.
The Hero Herald
said: POWERS RETURN AS PSEUDO-CHIPS BANNED!
The Superopolis
Times
reported: POWER-SAPPING SECRET DIES WITH RED MENACE. Of course
The Daily Weekly
announced: PANIC SPREADS AS POWERS FAIL. But what mattered was that
everyone
believed that the Pseudo-Chips had robbed them of their powers. No one even suspected that it was the lack of Dr. Telomere's chips that had been responsible, and I wasn't going to correct them.
With the Red Menace dead, only Dr. Telomere and I knew the truth. However, the second I had that thought, I could have sworn I saw a reptilian figure peeking out from a wooded section of Lava Park. Just as quickly, it disappeared. I was certain it had to be Gore, and I realized that someone else did knowâjust not someone human.
But I lost track of him amid the crowd of people who were thronging the park. After all, the final mayoral debate was about to occur, and everyone was fascinated to see it in light of all the recent events.
The parade had been Mayor Whitewash's idea, and that, along with the return of his power, had caused a significant uptick in his polls. It also hadn't hurt that the powers of the zoo animals had also vanished, and most of them were now safely back in their cages. The mayor was not only now leading the carved pumpkin, but he was even gaining on Professor Brain-Drain. I never did get a chance to pass along the crucial piece of information I had for him, so my plan was to do it now. But just in case things turned ugly again, I had also brought along my bodyguards.
“Stay in the middle of the ring we're going to form around you,” Stench instructed. “Now that we've all got our powers back, it should be a breeze to keep you safe if we need to.”
“I think everything will be fine,” I said, “but thanks, you guys, for making sure.”
The candidates were already up on the stage as we approached, and Professor Brain-Drain was in the middle of a speech.
“. . . and that is why, despite the return of your powers, the reelection of Mayor Whitewash will bring nothing but pestilence, famine, and diseaseâin addition to other liberal objectives. That is why you must cast your votes for me.”
“Well now,” said Mayor Whitewash, sounding like his old confident self. “Professor Brain-Drain may not have a criminal recordâ”
“Excuse me, Mr. Mayor,” I shouted out from the crowd. “But that's not exactly true.”
A murmur rose from the crowd as everyone turned to look at me. My friends were all on high alert, but I knew I wasn't in any danger. Instead, I pushed my way to the stage and stepped onto the platform.
“What is the meaning of this, son?” asked the mayor.
“What Professor Brain-Drain said about not having a record isn't true,” I said. The Professor's eyebrows narrowed to a scowl as he glared at me from behind his thick, blank glasses. “Professor Brain-Drain is a convicted criminal. And I have the proof.”
The crowd began chattering in surprise as I whipped out the document I had found buried away amid a sea of paperwork and records down at city hall. I handed it to the mayor who scanned it quickly.
“The boy is right,” he said as he looked back at the crowd. “Professor Brain-Drain's candidacy is illegal. Ten years ago, he served one week in prisonâfor failing to properly register a blimp.”
The Race Is Run . . . or Only Begun?
Cannonball's team trounced mine in the elections on Tuesday. Don't even ask me why I was surprised. Despite having delivered on my promise to return everyone's powers before the election, my classmates decided they had already gotten what they wanted from us. Cannonball, on the other hand, had brought a bag of candy bars and offered to hand them out to anyone who voted for his side. It was a landslide.
The Spore had cemented his uncontested run when he showed up the day before with a campaign poster. It had shown a blown-up image of a photo he had gotten with himself and Captain Radio on Sunday. The poster read: CAPTAIN RADIO ENDORSES THE SPORE: “HE'LL BE THE LAST GUY TO LET YOU DOWN,” SAYS THE CAPTAIN.
I suspect he'll get lots of work as Transparent Girl's financial dealings lead to ever more fish floating to the top of our aquarium tank. Of course, I could just be bitter.
But the truth was I had other things on my mind as I made my way toward downtown and police headquarters after school. I had been summoned there by Professor Brain-Drain himself. I didn't
have
to accept his invitation, but something told me I should.
As I walked up the sidewalk toward police headquarters, I had the sudden impression I was being watched. Among all the people coming and going, I caught sight of a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches that lined the main pathway. It was Dr. Telomere.
“Well done, boy,” I thought I heard him say. “And, remember, time will always tell.”
I was just about to approach him when a figure stepped between us.
“I owe you an enormous debt of gratitude, young man,” Mayor Whitewash said as he stuck out his hand for me to shake. “I doubt I would have won the election without your detective work.”
“I'm sorry about your father,” I replied. “I feel responsible for that, too.”
“I lost my father fifty years ago.” The mayor shook his head sadly. “He chose to pursue a plan of domination rather than raise my brothers and me. It took all my abilities in my first election to convince the people of Superopolis that I was not my father's son. Besides, he was always embarrassed by me because I only had a pale version of his power.”
As the mayor patted me on the shoulder and continued on, I thought how lucky I was to have a father who was proud of me with or without a power. And Dr. Telomere hinted that I might just yet turn out to have one. I turned back to the bench he had been sitting on, but it was now empty. I shrugged and continued on my way.”
Once inside, I was led down a long gloomy hallway by a police officer and brought before a solid glass wall. On the other side stood Professor Brain-Drain.
“Prison isn't so bad the second time around,” he said as my escort left us alone. “And, thankfully, the sentence for lying on a candidate registration form is only two weeks. I'll be out before you know it.”
“And then what?” I asked.
“Well, for one thing, there's still a mountain-size chunk of prodigium waiting for me beneath Crater Hill.”
“You wouldn't try using it to send everyone back in time again, would you?”
“Of course not,” he sneered. “I would never repeat myself. I don't need to. There is no end to the mischief I could make with the amount of power stored in that rock.”
“Yet you still have no power of your own.”
“Yes, you're right.” He smiled sinisterly. “Everyone's abilities returned except mine. Why would that be?”
“Because everyone stopped eating the PseudoChips,” I said as I felt my nerves begin to twitch with concern.
“But I never
started
eating them,” he pointed out. “It was only in the last twenty-four hours that I began to realize that the problem wasn't with what people were eating. It was what they
weren't
eating that had made all the difference. The same thing that I also haven't eaten for ten years now.”
The feeling in my gut turned to icy fear, and the Professor could see it reflected in my eyes. It was only then that I noticed the bowl of potato chips sitting on the table in Professor Brain-Drain's cell.
“I have to give you credit, boy,” he said as he casually reached toward the bowl and took a single chip from it. “Your manipulation of events this past week has been nothing less than masterful.”
He raised the chip to his mouth and then paused. As his hand began to shake, a look of revulsion crept across his face.
“You've kept the truth a secret from everyone,” he said. “Everyone . . . but me.”
And then he popped the potato chip into his mouth and began to chew.
WILLIAM BONIFACE
may or may not exist. Ordinary Boy, after all, tells his own story. Mr. Boniface could simply be a creation of the publisher in order to fulfill the requirement that an author be listed on the cover of this book. Given that possibility, there is no harm in revealing that Mr. Boniface has lent his name to over two dozen far less wordy children´s books that were also in need of an author. Unless, of course, he didn´t, which would make this entire biography irrelevant.
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Jacket art © 2008 by Stephen Gilpin
The Extraordinary Adventures of Ordinary Boy,Book Three: The Great Powers Outage
Text copyright © 2008 by William Boniface
Illustrations copyright © 2008 by Stephen Gilpin
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EPub Edition © February 2009 ISBN: 9780061881121
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Boniface, William.
The great powers outage / William Boniface ; illustrations by Stephen Gilpin. â 1st ed.