Read Online Cheeseburger Subversive by Richard Scarsbrook - Free Book Online Page A

fires on the first kick, but Devin Orff is already standing in front of me, gripping the handlebars of my mini-bike.
    â€œHey, Anal, don’t worry!” he titters. “I’m not gonna hurt you — I just wanna take this hot bike of yours for a ride! Promise I won’t break it!”
    Even over the buzz of the little engine, I can hear his dogs snarling like demons. Close beside me, Smiley’s fur bristles, and he growls back at them.
    â€œYeah, Anal,” Cliff giggles. “We promise we won’t smash the Moto-Pup into little tiny bits!”
    It isn’t as big or expensive as their dirt bikes, but the Moto-Pup is a present from my dad, and I am not going to let these two giggling idiots wreck it. I kick the gearshift pedal, wind back the throttle, and drop the clutch, making the doughnut-sized rear tire actually spin a little. It is enough to push Devin Orff out of the way, but there is not nearly enough power to drive through him like I had planned. Now all I can think of is escape, and I buzz down the hill away from Orff and Boswink as fast as the Moto-Pup will carry me, which is slightly faster than they can run on foot.
    â€œCome back here, Anal!” Cliff yells.
    They both run after me, but the Moto-Pup gradually pulls ahead enough that they break off their pursuit.
    â€œThe name’s Dak, shithead!” I yell back as my little bike carries me away. Smiley runs beside me, his mouth wide open and his tongue wagging like a flag, like he’s laughing his head off.
    â€œHa-HAAA, suckers!” I shout over my shoulder.
    And then I see them. Devin’s attack dogs are charging behind us, gaining quickly. I wrench the throttle back, but it is already open as wide as it will go.
    My left foot is jerked from the footpeg. One of the dogs had my pant leg in his teeth! The other Doberman is running beside my right leg, nipping at it. They are going to pull me right off the mini-bike!
    A hollow thump! A cyclone of snarling and barking! The dog on the right lets go of my pant leg, and then the second disappears, too. I stand on the rear brake pedal, spin the bike around 180 degrees in the dirt to see Smiley on the back of the dog who had my pant leg in his teeth. The Doberman bucks and thrashes and howls wildly but cannot shake Smiley loose. The second Doberman leaps into the fray, hissing and shrieking like something from hell. The three dogs kick up a cloud of dust, thrashing and snapping and gnashing and snarling wildly.
    My hands claw at my face. No no no no no! I would have rather let Devin and Cliff smash up the Moto-Pup and beat me up than watch my dog get killed like this.
    But then one of the Dobermans rears up, flips several times in the dust, then sprints away, yelping like an alarm siren. Seconds later, the second Doberman flees like the first, dragging its ass away as fast as its front legs will carry it.
    Devin and Cliff, who had been running towards the scene to watch my dog get eaten by the Dobermans, turn tail and run in the opposite direction when Smiley bares his teeth and gallops towards them, barking like crazy. As soon as they are far enough away, Smiley stops his pursuit and trots back to me.
    Smiley has a few small cuts on his nose and ears, and he’s limping slightly on one paw, but overall he is in pretty good shape for a friendly little mutt that has just taken on two attack dogs at once and kicked the crap out of them. I guess Chopper and Slash’s barks are worse than their bites, and it occurs to me that this might be true for their owner and his gang as well.
    From this point on, with Smiley running alongside me, I will buzz around The Badlands with a little less fear and a little more joy in my heart.

Pushin’ Pickle
    (Grade eight)
    â€œS o, Dak,” my father says, in a businesslike tone which always means bad news for me, “how would you like to make some extra money this summer?”
    Is this a trick question or