The Brotherhood of Rotten Babysitters (6 page)

Not that I’ve ever tried to make sense out of anything Spice Girl has said, or, for that matter, anything Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy or Exact Change Kid have ever said, either, but before I could ask what in the world she was talking about, the loudspeaker spoke again.

“Okay, we’ve given you time to prepare to meet your doom, so, now that you
are
prepared to meet it, it is time for you to...uh... meet it.”

“Would you just shut up and blast them already?!” another voice complained over the loudspeaker.

“Give me back my microphone!” the first voice whined. “We agreed
I
was the one who got to tell the League of Big Justice to prepare to meet their doom! Why are you so mean? If you had a problem with it, you should have said something before!”

“I
did
say something, and you started to cry!” the second voice snapped. “I just went along with this stupid plan to shut you up!”

The bickering voices echoed through the loudspeaker, causing a feedback shriek. As the shrill sound died down, I could hear sniffling.

“Oh, great!” A third voice came over the loudspeaker. “She’s crying again! I totally hope you’re happy.”

“Ha! She always cries!” the second voice said. “’Cause you’re so mean!” the first voice barked. “Can I please finish now?”

There was a moment of silence. Then the first voice cleared her throat. “ATTENTION LEAGUE OF BIG JUSTICE!” the voice boomed. “PREPARE TO MEET YOUR —”

“Skip that part already!” the second voice yelled.

I wasn’t about to wait around for our mysterious hosts to decide what doom we should meet and when we should meet it. Besides, meeting doom is bad enough. Meeting doom in my house where it can see embarrassing photos of me, which I know my mom would be all too eager to show, is like meeting doom’s doom.

That’s just too much doom for one guy to take. Except maybe for Doom Doom Man. He had the power for people to meet
him.
Before he attacked, he would always shout stuff like “Prepare to meet me!” or “You have met your me!” and “Prepare to be covered in gooey maple syrup.” I don’t think maple syrup has anything to do with doom. I just think he liked to cover people in it.

“We’ve got to get out of here before they attack,” I warned the Sidekicks. “We’ve got to protect my mom!”

“And me!” Pumpkin Pete cried out from the closet. “I don’t want to be a pie!”

“Oh, son! I’m so proud of you!” my mom gushed. “But maybe all these people need is a good talking-to — just someone to sit them down and set them straight.”

“And give them a big hug,” Spice Girl added. “No! No hugs and no talking-to! These aren’t kids we’re talking about! They’re evil! They’re worse than evil! They’re evil with doom to be met! That doom may be a plan, it may be a horde, or it may just be a nasty bulldog with a bad attitude, but it’s still doom!” I zipped to the door and grabbed the knob. “Mom! Go hide somewhere!”

“I got dibs on the closet!” Pumpkin Pete yelled out from the closet.

“Once you’re safe, the Sidekicks and I will handle whatever waits beyond this door!” I continued. “Now who’s with me?”

“Maaa pam mam papm mah mamm! Mam! Mam! MAM! MAM!” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy shouted.

I leaned over to Spelling Beatrice. “Uh ...is he with me or against me?”

“With you.”

“Good.”

My palms were sweaty. The doorknob felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. My heart pounded in my chest. “I don’t know what dangers wait for us beyond this door....I don’t know what evil lurks beyond these walls ...but one thing I do know is that we’re superhero sidekicks! Sworn to protect good! Sworn to right wrongs! Sworn to —”

“Shut up and open the door already!” Boom Boy grumbled. “Always with the speeches, this guy.”

I turned the doorknob and flung open the door, only to be faced with the most terrifying sight the world had ever seen . . .

Teenage girls!

“So, who wants to be destroyed first?” the tall one asked.

Chapter Eleven

Mikey’s Summer Vacation

“Allow us to introduce ourselves,” the tall girl continued. “We are the Brotherhood of Rotten Babysitters!”

“But you’re girls,” Boom Boy commented. “And...?”

“Shouldn’t you be a
sisterhood
?”

“I told you!” the thin girl snarled.

“Don’t blame me!” the girl with glasses defended. “I voted for ‘the Sisterhood of Rotten Babysitters.’ ”

“The
Sisterhood
of Rotten Babysitters?!” the tall one spat back. “We’d sound like a feel-good movie released in late summer! No one’s afraid of feel-good movies!”

“I am,” Exact Change Kid confessed. “They always have kissing.”

“Trust me,
The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
ruined it for all us evil females,” the tall one said.

“I don’t care if you’re a brotherhood of girls or a sisterhood of guys, I just want to know why you ruined my house and brought us here!” I said.

“I’ll bet you’d just love to know the answer to that one.” The tall girl crossed her arms. A small smile cut across her face. She stood, silent, defiant, until the girl with glasses asked, “Well, are you going to tell them or what?”

“Look, you
really
have to work on your dramatic tension, Bunni!” the tall one scolded. “I thought we agreed: dramatic tension!”

“
Pfft.
It was more like dramatic boredom,” the girl who wasn’t Bunni commented, and rolled her eyes. “You were totally standing there with this total ‘duh’ expression on your face like you didn’t even know why we brought them here.”

“I know
why
we brought them here! Destroy the League of Big Justice? Hell-loo?! It was, like,
my
idea, Candi,” the tall one sneered.

“It was
so
not your idea!” Candi snorted. “You are totally trippin’ right now, Kiki.”

“Me? Trippin’?! Look in a mirror and check out the poster child for trippin’.”

“You’re just mad because Brad Jones totally asked
me
to Homecoming instead of you,” Candi mocked.

“Brad Jones!? He is
so
last semester!” Kiki snorted. “Hel-lo? I’m a junior now!”

“Uh... girls?” I interrupted. “Maybe we could get back to your evil plot and all?”

“STAY OUT OF THIS!” Kiki and Candi shouted at me.

So Kiki was the tallest one. She had black hair and always seemed to be scowling. Candi had blond hair, was thin, and rolled her eyes at a lot. Bunni had red hair, glasses, and liked to smile.

As Kiki and Candi bickered, Boom Boy whispered, “I call dibs on the blond one.”

“
I
like the blond one!” Exact Change Kid whispered back.

“I thought you liked brunettes,” Boom Boy replied.

“Usually I do. But I figure the blond one looks the nicest and maybe she won’t kill me,” Exact Change Kid confessed.

“Guys, I really think they’re here looking for a fight,” I informed them.

“Good! I like feisty girls!” Boom Boy clapped his hands together.

“No. I mean we have to fight them and stop them from destroying the League of Big Justice ... and us!”

“You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with the redhead!” Boom Boy sneered.

“Mam pam? Phaam ma ma paa?” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy joined in.

“Okay. You get the redhead. Just stay away from my girl!” Boom Boy warned him. “I really think she might be the one.”

“The
one
? The one to crush you under her evil boot heel, you mean!” I answered.

“I don’t know, but I’ve got a fistful of pennies ready just in case,” Exact Change Kid said. “I hate rejection.”

And, in fact, Exact Change Kid hated rejection so much, the moment that Kiki and Candi finished their argument, Exact Change Kid pelted them with a handful of change.

“Eat copper!” he shouted.

The coins hit the two girls and fell to the ground.

“So...if you’re free for lunch later, maybe we could ...I mean ... unless you’re busy or . . . I ...uh...” Exact Change Kid fumbled for words.

Boom Boy dropped his head into his hands. “He is
so
killing our chances.”

“Maaa pa!” Boy-in-the-Plastic-Bubble Boy agreed. I think.

Kiki grabbed Exact Change Kid by the collar. “I have dealt with crying kids and dirty diapers. I’ve had juice spilled on me, SpaghettiOs thrown at me, strained peas flung at me, and gum stuck to me. I’ve been forced to watch
Finding Nemo
five hundred and thirty-six times and know every single lyric to every single song from every single Disney movie, sequel, prequel, DVD, direct-to-video video, special edition, and stage play. So don’t even think for a second that sixty-two pennies bouncing off my face would even make me blink — except for that one that actually hit me in the eye. Your coins can’t harm me! I’m made of
steel
! I’m a
babysitter
!”

Exact Change Kid gritted his teeth and leaned closer to Kiki’s face. “Don’t think I won’t use quarters...”

“Would everyone just calm down and tell me who the heck you are?!” I shouted.

“And do you like pumpkin pie?” Pete’s faint voice called out from the closet.

“So,” Kiki began, letting go of Exact Change Kid, “you want to know the origin of the Brotherhood of Rotten Babysitters?”

“Yes!” the word exploded from my mouth.

Chapter Twelve

The Origin of the Brotherhood of Rotten Babysitters!

“We got tired of babysitting all those brats, so we became evil,” Kiki explained.

“Rotten,” Candi corrected.

“Rotten,” Bunni agreed.

Chapter Thirteen

The Revenge of Mikey!

“That’s it?
That’s
your big ‘origin’?!” I sputtered.

“Well, that and the aliens that blasted us with cosmic rays as we drove near the nuclear reactor while eating Pop Rocks and Pepsi and listening to CDs backwards during the lightning storm that happened on the same day as those mysterious sunspots that made the gamma bomb experiment to explode early, causing shards of the green meteor from this dying planet to hit us before we were safely out of Area 51, while watching the Janet Jackson halftime show from the Super Bowl. The next day we had super powers. But that part’s
so
five minutes ago,” Kiki explained.

“That’s my favorite perfume,” Spice Girl whispered.

“And now, we’ve been hired to totally destroy the League of Big Justice!” Candi growled.

“Well, you chicks are out of luck,” Boom Boy laughed. “The League of Big Justice is back doing yard work at Speedy’s.”

“All of them?” Kiki looked like she was about to explode.

“Yes! All of them!” Pete’s muffled voice cried out from the closet. “Especially the ones you can make into pies!”

“Who was that?” Kiki demanded.

“Meow! Meow!” Pete replied.

“Why do you want to destroy the League of Big Justice?” I asked.

“Why?”
Kiki sneered. “We’re rotten babysitters! It’s just what we do.”

“My colleague and I have a question,” Exact Change Kid said, looking up from his notebook. He had been scribbling during the whole conversation and also conferring with Spelling Beatrice. He flipped back one page, briefly read his notes, then asked, “Are you ‘rotten babysitters’ because you’re no good at babysitting, or are you babysitters who are rotten, and therefore do bad things? I hope you can see my confusion. The way you use it, ‘rotten’ is modifying ‘babysitter,’ making it sound like an assessment of your babysitting skills rather than a commentary on your moral disposition. While you’ve been divulging your plan to destroy the League of Big Justice and then rule the world or whatever, I’ve taken the liberty of sketching out a few alternatives to help avoid any future misunderstandings. So, let me run these by you and maybe you can get some immediate feedback from the other sidekicks.” He flipped over two more pages and cleared his throat. The three evil babysitters exchanged unsure looks. “Okay... sticking with the babysitting theme... how about... ‘The Brotherhood of Babysitters Who Are Rotten’? or ‘The League of Morally Suspect Babysitters’? Oh, here’s a good one: ‘The Babinators.’ Or maybe ‘Babysitting Destructo Force-1’? And then there’s my personal favorite —”