Mr. Peabody & Sherman Junior Novelization (Mr. Peabody & Sherman) (2 page)

T
he angry peasants dragged Mr. Peabody to the public square and clapped him into the guillotine. Sherman was scared. He watched as the peasants’ leader, Robespierre, addressed the crowd.

“The queen and her aristocratic cronies must pay the price for their gluttony! We will slaughter them like the dogs that they are—starting with this one!” Robespierre yelled. He pointed to Mr. Peabody, whose head was trapped in the guillotine’s wooden stock.

A black-hooded executioner prepared to drop the blade. Sherman rocked anxiously on his feet. “Mr. Peabody, what should I do?” he asked.

“Nothing, Sherman!” Mr. Peabody answered. His eyes darted from the executioner to Sherman’s glasses
to a sewer lid just a few feet away.

“But, Mr. Peabody—”

“Everything’s going to be fine, Sherman; just stay right there!” Mr. Peabody said firmly.

The sun began to set over the square. Suddenly, its bright rays slanted through the air and struck the corner of Sherman’s glasses. He was momentarily blinded by the shining light, but he still heard the awful sound of the guillotine’s blade as it dropped.
Thunk!

“Mr. Peabody!” Sherman wailed.

Robespierre reached into the basket in front of the guillotine and pulled out Mr. Peabody’s head—only it wasn’t a head at all. It was half of a melon!

Robespierre smashed the melon and pounded his foot on the ground in rage. He’d been tricked. He quickly spun around, looking for any sign of Mr. Peabody. He turned just in time to see him grab Sherman and disappear down the hole beneath the sewer lid.

“Get that dog!” Robespierre screamed.

Mr. Peabody and Sherman landed in the sewers with a
splash!
As they ran through the dark, twisting tunnels, Sherman asked, “Mr. Peabody, how’d you escape?”

“Simple, really. I noticed the distance between the sewer lids, noted the loose board under the basket,
computed the angle at which the setting sun would bounce off your glasses, momentarily blinding the executioner, and chose that moment to swipe the executioner’s melon, giving me the added weight to tip the boards, facilitating my exit,” Mr. Peabody answered.

“That’s amazing,” Sherman said, impressed.

“It’s not amazing. It was just a matter of keeping my head.” Mr. Peabody winked.

“Ha! Keeping your head!” Sherman snorted. Then his eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown. “I don’t get it.”

Mr. Peabody had no time to explain the details of his clever pun. A sewer lid rumbled, and a shaft of light spilled into the manhole. Robespierre and his peasant guards dropped into the tunnel, landing right in front of them.

“There he is! After them!” Robespierre called out.

Mr. Peabody and Sherman made a sharp turn and dove quickly into a side tunnel. They raced along the dark passages, listening carefully for any sign of Robespierre and his guards. They turned left, then right, then left again. Sherman was beginning to think they were running in circles. Finally, they rounded a corner and came face to face with Robespierre.

“Aha! I got you now!” the Frenchman said triumphantly, pulling out his sword. Mr. Peabody cast a quick glance over his shoulder to see a group of guards approaching from behind. It looked like Robespierre was right. They were trapped!

Mr. Peabody remained calm. There was no situation he couldn’t think his way out of. He just needed a moment to come up with a plan. “What a master of the chase you are, Monsieur Robespierre,” he said, stalling for time.

“Oh, you noticed?” Robespierre asked proudly.

“Of course! Doubling back on me like that—that was genius!” Mr. Peabody told him. He glanced up and down the tunnel, noting the number of guards, the distance between the sewer lids, and the peculiar odor wafting through the smelly corridor. His eyes lit up as a particularly clever idea occurred to him.

“I just hope you don’t take my little confederate here.” Mr. Peabody nodded at Sherman. “I depend on him so completely.”

Robespierre dashed forward and yanked Sherman to his side, pointing his sword directly at Mr. Peabody’s nose.

“Drat! You’re devilishly clever!” said Mr. Peabody.

“I know, and much quicker than you as well,” Robespierre said smugly.

“But are you quick enough for this?” In the blink of an eye, Mr. Peabody tossed the other half of the executioner’s melon at Robespierre. Without thinking, Robespierre caught the melon and dropped his sword, which Mr. Peabody deftly plucked from the air.

“Aha! See? Quick!” said Robespierre before he realized what had happened.

“Quick, yes, but not too smart!” Mr. Peabody responded. He waved the sword in front of his opponent’s eyes.

Robespierre scowled. He tossed the melon away, snatched a sword from one of his guards, and moved in for the attack. His blade whistled through the air and struck Mr. Peabody’s sword with a resounding clang.

“All right, Sherman—looks like it’s time for a little pop quiz in the art of fencing!” Mr. Peabody announced.

“Attack! Parry! Thrust!” Sherman called. Mr. Peabody advanced with swift, nimble steps, executing each of Sherman’s commands. The blade of his sword slashed back and forth so quickly, it was almost a blur.

Robespierre lunged with his sword aimed directly at
Mr. Peabody’s head. But Mr. Peabody was too fast for him. He ducked and slid through Robespierre’s legs, popping up right behind him. He continued his attack, backing Robespierre down the tunnel until the Frenchman stood directly beneath a sewer lid.

In two swift strides, Mr. Peabody rushed Robespierre and knocked the sword from his hand. The sword flew into the air, spinning end over end, and hit the sewer lid overhead. The lid rattled, flipped, and dropped straight down, landing directly on Robespierre’s head. The Frenchman collapsed in an unconscious heap.

The guards gasped as their leader keeled over. But they had little time to recover before Mr. Peabody threw his sword at them. They ducked quickly, and the sword lodged in the sewer wall behind them.

“Ha, ha! You missed!” the guards taunted.

Mr. Peabody flashed a dashing grin. “I never miss.”

The sewer wall trembled and burst, filling the tunnel with water.

“Oh, non! Sacre bleu!”
the guards cried as the wave engulfed them.

Mr. Peabody grabbed Sherman and jumped onto the sewer lid that had struck Robespierre. As the water roared into the tunnel, the lid began to float, carrying
the two of them on the surface of the wave. Holding tight to the lid, they surfed along the passage toward the exit.

“Do you smell that, Sherman?” Mr. Peabody asked, wrinkling his nose.

“It wasn’t me, Mr. Peabody,” Sherman answered innocently.

“I know it wasn’t you. It’s the methane gas in the sewer system, and given the fact that it ignites at three hundred and six degrees Fahrenheit, we’re about to use it to blast out of here!” Mr. Peabody explained.

He leaned on the metal edge of the sewer lid and scraped it against a tunnel wall, causing sparks to appear. The sparks ignited the gas in the tunnel, and—
ka-BOOM!
—created a huge explosion, which blasted Mr. Peabody and Sherman out of the sewer.

The force of the blast sent them sailing over the glittering city. The erupting gas lit up the Paris sky like fireworks.

“Whoo-hoo!” Sherman cheered as they sailed through the fiery night. Mr. Peabody brought them in for a smooth landing, using the sewer lid like a skateboard to ride down the side of a tree in the forest outside the palace of Versailles. Unharmed, they dusted themselves
off and walked toward where Mr. Peabody had parked the WABAC.

“So, what did you learn today, Sherman?” asked Mr. Peabody.

“The French Revolution was crazy!” Sherman replied. “All those guys getting their heads chopped off and nobody standing up and saying it wasn’t right!”

“And to think, Marie Antoinette could have avoided the whole revolution if she’d simply issued an edict to distribute bread amongst the poor,” said Mr. Peabody.

Sherman nodded. He knew “edict” was just a fancy word for “law.”

“But then she couldn’t have had her dessert,” Mr. Peabody said.

“Why not?” Sherman asked.

“Because, Sherman, you can’t have your cake and
edict,
too,” Mr. Peabody said, chuckling.

Sherman laughed at Mr. Peabody’s joke, but then his brows drew together in confusion.

“I don’t get it,” he said, puzzled.

Mr. Peabody simply smiled and turned to the empty clearing in front of them. At first glance, there was nothing but grass and trees, but suddenly, the WABAC materialized, its reflective tiles flipping over as Mr.
Peabody and Sherman approached. The camouflaged time machine was quickly revealed in all its glory. It was a red sphere with a shiny metallic finish that glinted in the moonlight. The WABAC hovered above the ground, defying gravity and humming with energy.

Together father and son climbed aboard the ship and settled into their chairs in front of the futuristic navigation console. Sherman was ready for another journey through history, but Mr. Peabody set a course for home. Sherman’s jaw dropped open in surprise when Mr. Peabody reminded him that, in fact, he
was
about to go on a different kind of adventure: “Tomorrow is your first day of school!”

E
arly the next morning, Mr. Peabody brought his motorcycle to a stop outside Susan B. Anthony Elementary School. Sherman hopped excitedly from the sidecar and pulled off his helmet and goggles. He couldn’t wait for his first day of school to begin.

Mr. Peabody had been giving him advice all morning, and now that they had finally arrived, Sherman was more than ready to head off on his own. But before he could race inside, Mr. Peabody gave him a special present. It was a shiny silver dog whistle.

Sherman blew hard into the whistle and was disappointed when no sound came out. “It doesn’t work, Mr. Peabody,” he said, looking at it inquisitively.

Mr. Peabody had clamped his paws over his sensitive ears. “It works, Sherman. It’s just a frequency only dogs
can hear,” he explained patiently.

Sherman nodded and slipped the whistle into his back pocket, eager to get to class.

“Let that little keepsake be a reminder to you that no matter what challenges you may face,” Mr. Peabody began, “no matter how far away I might seem—”

“Bye, Mr. Peabody!” Sherman cut him off. He waved briefly, ran up the front steps, and disappeared inside the school.

“… I’m with you.” Mr. Peabody heaved a lonely sigh. School was one adventure that he would have to let Sherman face on his own.

Sherman’s first day of school started with a history lesson about George Washington. History was Sherman’s specialty. Thanks to the WABAC, he knew all about the past.

“Who can tell me who George Washington was?” the teacher asked.

“Oh, me! I can, I can!” Sherman answered eagerly. His hand shot into the air. He didn’t notice the equally eager blond girl sitting at the desk just behind him. Her hand was poised in the air, and she stared hard at the teacher, vying for attention.

When the teacher called on Sherman, the girl narrowed her eyes at him.

“George Washington was the first president of the United States,” Sherman answered.

The teacher nodded and asked her next question. “And when President Washington was a little boy, what kind of tree did he cut down?”

Again, Sherman raised his hand excitedly, but the blond girl was equally determined.

The teacher called on her. “Penny?”

“A cherry tree!” Penny replied.

“Apocryphal!” Sherman exclaimed.

The class gasped at the rude-sounding word, but Sherman assured them that it was just a fancy way of saying “false.”

“George Washington never cut down a cherry tree, and he never said he couldn’t lie. People made those stories up to teach kids a lesson about lying, but they’re not true,” Sherman explained. “But Washington
did
cross the Delaware River on Christmas night in 1776. My dad took me there over the summer!”

The teacher smiled, impressed with Sherman’s knowledge. “Well, it looks like someone really knows their history, huh, Penny?” she said.