Beware the Ninja Weenies (6 page)

Finally, right after a red sports car whooshed past him, he saw there was nothing coming in either direction. Gilbert took a step.

At least, that's what he tried to do. His brain told his leg to step. But Gilbert couldn't move.

“I'm gummed up.” That's what his brain told his mouth to say. But even his mouth wasn't moving. He could breathe, and he could think, but everything else was gummed up and stuck.

“Gilbert, hey, wait for me.”

The call came from his left. He couldn't turn his head, or even move his eyes, but he recognized the voice. It was Damon. Gilbert could wait for him. That part was easy, since he really had no other choice.

“What's up?” Damon asked. The voice was close now. Right next to him.

“I'm stuck.” Again, the words didn't leave Gilbert's brain.

Damon walked into view. “Are you angry or something?” He leaned closer. “It wasn't my fault we crashed into each other.”

Gilbert couldn't even blink. Damon's face was so close, Gilbert could see the purple wad of gum he was chewing, and smell the faded grape aroma.

“Okay, be like that,” Damon said. He plucked the gum from his mouth and stuck it on Gilbert's nose.

Gilbert's angry shout remained in his head. Damon walked off. In another moment, he'd turned the corner and moved out of sight.

“Hey, look, a gum post. How convenient.”

Right after Gilbert heard the voice, he saw a man walk over to him from across the street. The man reached in his own mouth, plucked out his gum, and stuck it on Gilbert's forehead.

“I'm not a gum post!” Gilbert tried to say.

But the next three people who came along seemed to think otherwise. They also stuck their gum on Gilbert.

This can't last forever,
he thought. Sooner or later the gum he'd swallowed had to get unstuck or digested or something.

A little boy came into sight, walking next to his mother.

“Look, Mommee! A gum post!” He plucked his gum out of his mouth and reached toward Gilbert's leg.

“No, dear,” his mother said. “That's very unsightly. And unsanitary. Think of all the germs that could infest it.” She snatched the gum from his hand.

“Thank you,” Gilbert tried to say. Finally, someone with common sense had come along. A tingle of hope twitched through his gummed-up stomach, though even the tingle moved at a slow pace. Maybe the woman would help him.

“You must dispose of the gum properly,” the woman said. She grabbed Gilbert's jaw and pulled down. Then she flicked the gum into his open mouth. “See. That's how these things are supposed to be used.”

“Yay!” the boy said. “This is fun. I'm bringing my gum here every day. And I'm telling all my friends.”

They walked off. Gilbert stayed where he was, stuck in place.

 

THE SNOW GLOBE

I
found the snow
globe in a box in the attic. I guess it had been my grandfather's, because the rest of the stuff in the box was his. The glass globe was about the size of a softball, but a lot heavier. There was a snowman inside. He looked kind of creepy. I liked that.

I gave the globe a shake, but nothing happened. I guess it was so old that the fake snowflakes had gotten stuck or something.

I took it downstairs to show my younger brother, Shawn.

“Let me try.” He grabbed the globe and gave it a hard shake.

A couple flakes swirled through the liquid. But not many.

“It doesn't work,” Shawn said. He tossed the globe back to me.

I shook it again, and got several more flakes. I was about to put the globe away, when I looked out the window. There were some snowflakes falling through the air.

It was July.

I went outside to make sure the flakes weren't actually flower blossoms or bits of ash. I put my hand out. One of the flakes landed on my palm. It glistened for an instant, and then melted. I felt the tiniest chill on the spot where it had landed.

Snow. For sure. I felt a bigger chill run through my body.

“Shawn!” I yelled.

He came running out. “What?”

“Watch this.” I shook the globe harder than before. A little more snow swirled through the liquid. And more snow fell from the clouds.

“Wow,” Shawn said. “Let me try.”

I passed the globe to him. He gave it a shake. He got a few more flakes, but I could tell most of the snow was still stuck to the bottom. I took the globe back and gave it a whack on the side, making sure not to hit it so hard that it broke.

Some of the clumped snow broke free. I whacked the globe again, then shook it as hard as I could.

The globe filled with snow.

So did the sky.

Snow fell thick and heavy. A moment later, I heard the screech of brakes, and then a crash. I heard other crashes as the falling snow turned everything into a slippery slushy mess. People weren't expecting snow. Nobody had salted the road or put down cinders.

“Stop!” I shouted at the globe. That was stupid. It couldn't hear me. The snow in the globe swirled in every direction. The air around me swirled with snow. It looked like it was going to snow for a long time.

I heard another crash. People were shouting and crying.

I had to stop the snow. I lifted the globe high above my head, then hurled it down, smashing it on the ground. The globe shattered into a thousand pieces. The contents spilled out, splashing across the driveway, carrying the snowman along like he'd been tossed in a river.

The snow stopped falling.

“I did it, Shawn,” I said. “Look—it stopped.”

Shawn's reply was drowned out by a roar, like a thousand jet engines or a million freight trains. The sky turned dark as a wall of water raced toward us, higher than the tallest houses. The flood I'd created crashed down like a liquid hammer, knocking me off my feet and sweeping me along the road.

I tried to swim to the surface, but it seemed impossibly beyond my reach. I knew I'd never make it. As I remembered the tiny snowman being washed across my driveway, I wondered how far the flood would spread, and how far away it would carry me.

 

THE IRON WIZARD GOES A-COURTIN'

There is an old
saying about having too many irons in the fire. It used to make sense, back when pieces of iron were commonly heated in fires by blacksmiths. That was a long time ago.

There's an even older saying: Be careful what you wish for. That one makes as much sense now as it did back then, because people often make wishes without thinking about the consequences.

Far back, even earlier than when either of those sayings was first uttered, there lived a princess of extraordinary beauty and uncommon brilliance. Her name was Lendina, and she had a secret. She also had dozens of suitors who wished for her hand, both because of her beauty, and because anyone who marries a princess becomes a prince. At a time when most people had little to eat except for moss and frogs, princes enjoyed a very nice lifestyle.

On the first day of spring, the traditional day in the Kingdom of Wellandia for seeking hands in marriage, fifteen knights, five dukes, two peasants, and one wizard set out for the castle of King Harlis.

Only the wizard arrived at his destination. All of the other suitors met with various sorts of accidents. Strangely enough, all of the accidents seemed to involve unpleasant encounters with some form of iron. The knights who were dressed in armor or chain mail had been squeezed or constricted in ways that are best left undescribed unless one has a fascination with the grinding of meat. The fates of the other travelers were no less unpleasant—especially those who stumbled into pits filled with iron spikes, or those who were struck by iron orbs that rained from the sky like merciless hailstones.

“I come to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage,” the wizard said when he was led into the great hall of the castle to meet King Harlis.

“Others have perished facing the trials she places before them,” the king said. “For five springs now, suitors have come, and for four springs, they have failed to win her hand.”

There was a hint of a smile on the king's lips. Although he was, for the most part, a kind and gentle ruler, he enjoyed a bit of clever perishing on occasion—especially if the perishing happened during a beautiful spring day. His own rise to power hadn't been achieved without a dash of excitement, a scattering of lost limbs, and a handful of severed heads.

“Others don't have control over the elements of the earth,” the wizard said. “Behold.” He pointed to the floor. A large stone at his feet shimmered, then turned to iron. Next, he pointed to a lance mounted on the wall. With a shriek of metal against metal, the lance tied itself into a knot.

“Impressive,” the king said. “You have my permission to seek my daughter's hand.” Still smiling, he rose from his seat and left the great hall. His smile grew larger, and became a laugh before he reached his chambers.

A moment later, Princess Lendina entered and took a seat. “You wish my hand in marriage?”

The wizard bowed low. “I do. Your beauty surpasses even the most amazing tales that have spread across the kingdom. And you could not choose a better suitor to be your prince. I am the most powerful wizard in the land.” He made mystical, magical gestures in the direction of another weapon on the wall.

“There's no need for demonstrations,” the princess said. “I can tell that you are powerful. But are you powerful enough? My prince must be able to protect me against all dangers.”

“I am truly powerful enough,” he said.

“We'll see. I will have you face one test that will challenge both your powers and your courage. If you pass, you may have my hand in marriage.” She rose from her seat. “It will take time to prepare the test. Come to the northern courtyard tomorrow at sunrise.”

“I'll be there,” the wizard said.

The princess went to talk with the royal blacksmith, who knew all about bellows and fire, and with the royal tutor, who was well versed in all matters related to the elements of the earth. The blacksmith and the tutor went right to work, constructing the test. They also smiled frequently.

At sunrise the next day, the princess waited at the courtyard. Extending in front of her was a walkway, forty paces long, lined with a brick wall on either side. The far end of the walkway contained a fire of small branches and twigs. With each pace, the branches grew larger and the fire grew hotter. After ten paces, the fire was fueled by logs. Ten paces beyond that, the fire was fed with coal. The last ten paces were also fed with coals. But in that stretch, men stood ready at a series of bellows that would pump air through holes in the wall, stoking the flames to even greater heat.

The wizard approached. “I am ready for the challenge,” he said.

“Walk along the path I have laid out,” Princess Lendina said. “Reach me, and you shall win my hand.”

“And so I shall,” the wizard said.

“Oh, there's a rule you must obey,” the princess said. “Until we are wed, you must vow never to use magic when we are close enough to touch hands.”

“This I vow,” he said.

The wizard stared at the fire for a moment, as if making calculations. Then he raised his hands, whispered ancient words, and cast his most powerful spell.

His whole body turned to iron. But it was iron that was jointed where human bone was jointed. The iron bones were layered with iron muscles and iron tendons. All of this was covered with iron flesh.

The iron wizard took a step, and then another. He walked across the fire of twigs and branches as if he were strolling through a meadow of buttercups. He passed through the log fire with equal ease. As he moved through the coal fire, his iron skin flushed with tinges of red. When he reached the hottest, coal-fed, bellows-stoked stretch, he glowed a cherry red. So intense was the heat that the air around him rippled.

He moved more slowly with each step, as if the spell took greater concentration as the temperature rose. He walked the last ten paces at barely a crawl. Finally, he moved beyond the fire, reaching the waiting princess.

“Well done,” she said. “But remember your vow.” She extended her hand toward him, as if to remind him not to use magic when they were close enough to touch.

The wizard raised his arms, casting off the spell that had turned him to iron.

Alas, he released the spell when his iron skin was still glowing. Red-hot iron will eventually cool. Red-hot skin does not fare so well. The wizard had barely enough time for a short scream before his flesh was turned to cinders.

The princess wrinkled her nose and stepped back. Each year, the first day of spring seemed to bring a more powerful, and more stupid, wizard seeking her hand. They killed off worthy suitors, and they made a mess of the castle, bending perfectly good lances with their ridiculous spells, and showing off in all sorts of destructive ways.

Princess Lendina hated wizards. That was her secret. But she'd never tell. The iron wizard might have guessed this secret at the very last instant of his life. But he'd never tell, either.

 

FORTUNATE ACCIDENTS

Somewhere between the time
he went flying over his handlebars and the time he landed helmet-first on the pavement twenty yards away, Keaton realized he'd messed up.

Shoulda looked …

That was his last thought before he woke up in the hospital. Now he thought,
Where am I?

He had a needle in his arm, attached to a thin plastic tube. His eyes followed the tube up to a bag of clear liquid hanging from a metal stand. There were wires attached to his chest with sticky pads. It felt like there might be more wires on his head. Behind him, he heard a beep that seemed to match the rhythm of his thumping heart.

A motion caught his attention. A man stood by the door, but he wasn't dressed like a doctor. He was wearing a suit.