boat out of ants?”
He hesitated,
then said: “Yes.” He saw my look and bristled slightly. “Ants float, Mr. Burly.
They float beautifully.”
I shrugged and
said I wished them luck, but they could count me out. Harper stared at me for a
long moment, then nodded grimly and went back to the others. I had a feeling
I’d probably never get that autographed 8X10 now.
I woke up the
next morning to find that I was alone in the cell. The other detectives had
apparently escaped during the night. I saw my chance to get in good with
Overkill.
“Guards!” I
hollered. “The bad prisoners have escaped! The good prisoner is still here!”
The dungeon door
flew open and the guards rushed in. They frantically looked around the dungeon,
then rounded on me.
“What do you mean
by frightening us like that?” one of them demanded. “No one has escaped.” He
pointed at a drawing on the wall of twelve detectives, waving. “The prisoners
are right there!”
Well I don’t know
where the phrase “As smart as a guard” came from, but it wasn’t coined to
describe these particular guards. It took me twenty minutes to convince them
that the real prisoners had escaped, which I finally did by erasing one of the
detectives. You should have seen the guards’ jaws drop when I did that. That’s
the first time I ever saw actual exclamation points and question marks appear
above somebody’s head. (In case you’re interested, I felt one of the marks and
they’re made of hair.)
One reason it was
so hard to get the guards to believe there had been an escape was because they
knew it was impossible. The only way to escape from this dungeon was if the
guards stupidly left the door open. Which they had, of course, when they ran
in. And the door had remained open for twenty minutes while they argued with me
about who was still here and who wasn’t. It was at some point during this
argument, I found out later, that the detectives had rushed out of the dark
corner they had been hiding in and ran through the open door to freedom,
carrying their ant-boat.
I told the
stunned guards to inform Overkill that the escaped prisoners were probably
somewhere out on the lake. There might still be time to catch them. And I
recommended that he bring some ant spray.
Within an hour
the detectives had been caught and returned to captivity. They had made it to
about halfway across the lake before seagulls started eating their boat. The
super villain’s security force had re-captured them just before they sank.
“Thanks, Burly,”
said Manley, as the detectives were brought back to the dungeon.
“You are quite
welcome.”
“I was being
sarcastic.”
“Uh… oh, yeah… so
was I.”
The head guard
arrived and glared at the detectives. “So! You try to make me look bad, eh?” He
turned to one of the other guards. “Put these guys in an even worse dungeon.”
“But, boss...”
“Do it.” He
turned to me. “You, come with me.”
To my amazement
he led me through the cell door, up the stairs, and across the lawn towards the
huge fortress in the center of the island.
“Where are you
taking me?”
“Dinner.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Welcome, Mr.
Burly! Welcome! At last we meet. Sit down and have some wine. Dinner will be
served shortly.”
I sat down at the
end of a long table and looked at my host, the dangerous super villain
Overkill. He was considerably smaller in real life than he was in my
imagination. Instead of being forty feet high with jackhammers for fingers, he
was about five foot four, with standard fingers. He was fiftyish and somewhat
pudgy. He didn’t seem all that dangerous up close.
I noticed he was
studying me as carefully as I was studying him. I also noticed he had a large
gun on the table next to his wine glass. The guards had their guns out too. And
there were framed guns on the wall, cocked and pointed at me. This guy wasn’t
taking any chances.
Nobody had said
anything for awhile, so I thought it advisable to
Addison Moore
Christin Lovell
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Chana Wilson
S. E. Smith
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Carl Phillips
Delphine Dryden
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