The Rise and Fall of El Solo Libre Page 5

  “I have decided, in light of yesterday’s display at the mall, that you need to partake in more traditionally normal activities. I’ve signed you up for sleepover camp this weekend. After today, no more spaceman game. It’s for your own good.”

  “What?! Mom, you can’t do that! Listen, I know I was acting a little weird at The Undie Outlet, but there’s no need for you to worry—it’s completely out of my system, I swear!”

  She gave him another odd look. “Uh-huh. Somehow, sweetie, I don’t find you very convincing right now.” She walked out, shutting the door behind her. Alex stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the door.

  He was still wearing the blue and silver Mexican wrestling mask his Uncle Davey had brought back from Guadalupe.

  Special Agent Illinois scanned the mass of Merwinsvillians gathered outside the entrance to the Flee-a-seum. Satisfied it was safe, he nodded to Mayor CROM-WELL. The mayor stepped to the front of the TransPodium and greeted the crowd. There were as many Merwinsvillians as the day before, and they cheered loudly as the mayor pulled out a large, golden pair of scissors.

  “Ugh. Again with the giant gold props?”

  Slumped between Herbert and Sammi near the back of the TransPodium, Alex wasn’t happy. He could only think about how this might be his last day in Future Merwinsville, at least for a while. If his mother stuck to her decision (and she always did, especially the ones for his own good), by this time tomorrow he’d most likely be setting up a tent in the park four blocks from his house.

  The mayor gestured for the three of them to come forward and do the honors of letting the crowd enter the Flee-a-seum.

  Herbert and Sammi stepped up and took the giant scissors.

  “C’mon, Alex!” Sammi said.

  “Quit moping,” Herbert added. “You can cut the ribbon, okay?”

  Alex looked at the two of them holding the stupid giant scissors. A question popped into his head: Is this how El Solo Libre would spend his last day in Future Merwinsville?

  The answer, he realized, was no.

  “No thanks,” he said. “I’ve got some stuff to do.” Alex stepped to the back edge of the TransPodium and looked down. Its back end hovered over the vast, empty Flee-a-seum field on the other side of the ribbon.

  Alex looked back and smiled at Herbert and Sammi. He held his nose and cannonballed off the TransPodium.

  “I’m really starting to hate it when he does that,” Herbert said.

  Alex hit the ground, rolled to a stop, and smiled as he looked across the empty field. If this was his last day in Future Merwinsville, he was gonna make the best of it. He started walking toward the exit at the far end of the field—then heard something that stopped him in his tracks.

  “Five! Four! Three!…” Oh, no. The mayor was leading the crowd in a countdown. Alex suddenly realized he’d made a big mistake.

  “…Two! One! WELCOME!”

  The crowd’s roar boomed and bounced off the empty stadium seats. A half second later the entire population of Merwinsville flooded onto the Flee-aseum field—and were charging right at Alex.

  Alex began to run for the exit and made it halfway across the field when he tripped. The crowd was like a tidal wave about to wash him away. Trapped, he stood up and looked back at them. Perfect, he thought. So this is how he’d spend his last day—drowning in his fans.

  BONK! Something hard hit him in the head. “And they’re throwing things at me?” he said.

  Looking up, he saw that what hit him was the bottom rung of a rope ladder, which was attached to a sleek AirCar hovering overhead. Chicago waved down to him.

  “Grab it!” Chicago yelled. “Quickly!”

  Alex grabbed it and immediately began to rise above the crowd. As the mob reached the center of the circular field, a few jumped up and grabbed his leg and hung off him. Alex shook them loose and watched them drop safely to the field below.

  Chicago circled skyward as Alex hung on, swinging widely over the Flee-a-seum field, which was now swarming with Merwinsvillians.

  “Yeeeehaawww!”

  Alex climbed up and hopped into the mayor’s shiny SkyLimo. He grinned at Chicago, then noticed the very large, rather strange-looking woman sitting behind him.

  “Alex, this is GOR-DONNA, from Total Universal Inside Access: Merwinsville! I told her all about you, and she wants to interview you! How awesome is that?”

  GOR-DONNA extended a flabby arm and shook Alex’s hand. “From what I can tell, you’re the one true AlienSlayer. I’d love to get your story.”

  Alex studied her for a moment, then turned to Chicago. “Okay. But I’m driving.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, Chi-town! Move it on over!”

  Chicago slid over and Alex jumped behind the controls. “Okay, where do you wanna do this thing?”

  “How about the SlayerLair?” GOR-DONNA said quickly.

  “Sounds like a plan! First round of Mega-Choco-Bomb Rootbeer Marshmallow Smoothies on me!”

  Alex gunned the ship and it zoomed across the sky, nearly smashing into a MonitOrb floating over Main Street.

  As the citizens of Merwinsville explored their new Flee-a-seum, Mayor CROM-WELL led Sammi and Herbert away from the crowd to an enormous oblong-shaped building at the opposite end of the stadium. Inside, a mountain of brownish rubber was being slowly inflated by an enormous, heavy-looking machine. It had the silver-plated words INFLATATRON 3000 on the side, and made a disturbing metallic wheezing sound as it worked to pump air into the massive pile of floppy material.

  “What is that thing?” Sammi asked.

  “It’s an InflataTron,” Herbert said. “Duh.”

  “No, I mean what’s it inflating?”

  Mayor CROM-WELL stepped up and gestured grandly. “It’s a balloon replica of a Klapthorian Winged Death Slug! An integral part of our Flee-a-bration, designed to provide a lifelike source of terror for our historical Flee-enactment! Fully inflated, it will be terrifyingly life-size!”

  “Well,” Herbert observed. “Can’t have a parade without a good parade floatie.”

  Sammi looked at the pile of mushy brown rubber. “It reminds me of those ridiculous G’Dalien costumes we wear when we sneak—”

  “Ahem!” Herbert cut her off, glaring at her. Her eyes widened, surprised that she’d almost blown their secret in front of the mayor, of all non-people.

  “Oops, sorry. Never mind.”

  Luckily the mayor was busy describing the horror his giant parade balloon represented and hadn’t noticed Sammi’s slipup.

  “The Klapthorians raise these beasts by feeding them whatever they pillage from other planets, like our precious LUNN-CHMUNNY.” His blobby belly wiggled as he shuddered with the memory. “They fatten them up and make them mean, then travel with them from galaxy to galaxy, stealing more and feeding them more and stealing more and feeding them more and—”

  “We grasp the pattern,” Herbert interjected.

  “Gosh,” Sammi said. “Thank goodness this is just a blow-up doll. I’d hate to have to meet a real one face-to-face.”

  Herbert glared at her again. The mayor had stopped talking. Herbert quickly flashed him a reassuring smile.

  “Er, not that we couldn’t handle the job. After all, we are AlienSlayers, remember?”

  “Oh. Right,” Sammi answered. “We sure are!”

  She excused herself to get some air and walked outside.

  LO-PEZ was busy finishing off a bucket of Kelgarian Fried Chorple wings at his post outside the front entrance of the SlayerLair when he looked up. A shiny object was getting larger as it zoomed straight toward him. He dropped his bucket and heaved his heavy body into a shrubbery just as the SkyLimo nearly crash-landed onto the sidewalk. Alex pulled up at the last second and jerked it to a stop.

  He hopped out and slapped LO-PEZ on the belly. “Hiya, L. P.!”

  “I’ll, uh, just leave you two, then,” Chicago said weakly. He opened the door to let GOR-DONNA out. Chica
go got back into the driver’s seat and lifted away very, very slowly.

  GOR-DONNA stumbled in her high heels toward Alex, who was waiting by the SlayerVator. As she passed LO-PEZ, the G’Dalien doorman quickly wiped Chorple grease off his face with a tentacle, sucked in his massive gut, and spoke in an odd, deep, cheesy-sounding voice. “Well. G’Day to you, m’lady.”

  GOR-DONNA growled at the grinning LO-PEZ as she passed him and got on the SlayerVator. The doors slid shut and LO-PEZ sighed, letting his sucked-in gut flop out again. “Now that’s what I call a woman.”

  “Root beer. Fudge brownies. Oreo cookies. Marshmallows. And keep ’em comin’!” Alex smiled as the auto smoothie bar produced two of his famous Mega-Choco-Bomb Marshmallow Root Beer Smoothies. He took one for himself and slid the other across the bar to GOR-DONNA.

  “Ooh, thank you,” she said with a smile. She took a big slurp and immediately gagged as she tried to swallow the syrupy-thick brown-sugar-liquid. “What a lovely lair you have here,” she choked.

  “Yeah. It’s okay.”

  SLURP! Alex took a big swig of his smoothie.

  “Okay. Ask me anything. I’m feeling loose.”

  She pulled a glossy photograph and a black marker from her purse and shoved them in his face.

  “First of all, I’m a big fan—of yours.”

  Alex looked down at the photo. The picture was of him, Herbert, and Sammi. Herbert and Sammi’s faces were scribbled over in crayon, and scrawled above them were very rude and inappropriate comments.

  Alex shrugged, signed the photograph, and handed it back to his new giant-headed lady fan. She took the picture and beamed at it before stuffing it back into her purse.

  “Nothing personal against your little friends,” she said. “It’s just that I can tell you’re the real AlienSlayer. The other two don’t share your natural greatness, if you know what I mean.”

  Alex smiled a bit. “Yeah,” he said. “I kinda do.”

  “So my question is, have you ever thought of going solo?”

  Alex stared at his interviewer. “Whoa. You’re good.”

  Chicago flew straight back to the Flee-a-seum and picked up Sammi and Herbert. He couldn’t wait to share the news that he was going to be on Total Universal Inside Access: Merwinsville! As he drove them to Andretti’s Pizzeria, talking about himself the entire way, Sammi grew more and more uncomfortable.

  “I mean, I think it went very well,” he blabbed on. “I’m not saying I’ll be more famous than you guys, of course, but if I get on TV and people like me, who knows? Maybe I could be, like, the official on-air spokesperson for, y’know, stuff.”

  Herbert and Sammi shared a quick look. Sammi was eager to change the subject. “You sure it’s okay for you to be cruising around in Mayor CROM-WELL’s SkyLimo?”

  “I was on official AlienSlayer business, so it’s cool. Hey, do you think I should’ve worn a blue shirt? Red felt like a good call, but you’re a girl. I probably should’ve asked you.”

  “What AlienSlayer business?” Herbert cut in. “We were at the event—with the mayor.”

  “Not all of you.” Chicago veered the AirCar toward the old brick pizza building below. “I got Alex a solo interview with the top reporter at T.U.I.A:M! She and I are pretty tight now.”

  “Ah,” Herbert said. “How perfect.”

  Chicago made a soft landing in front of Andretti’s Pizzeria. Herbert jumped out. Sammi waited for Chicago to get out and maybe open her door, but he didn’t even unbuckle himself.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” she asked.

  “Can’t. The reporter said I might be on TV. I’ve gotta be ready. I’m gonna get a haircut, manicure, maybe buy some new clothes. I’ve gotta be on my game, in case I get the call.”

  Herbert rolled his eyes. “I’ll go get a booth—for two.”

  Sammi studied Chicago’s grinning face. Then she got an idea. “Hey,” she said carefully. “What would you think if Herbert, Alex, and I decided to tell everyone that we’re not really AlienSlayers?”

  Chicago froze. He looked at her, dumbfounded. Then he forced a chuckle. “Heh. Uh, why would you wanna do that?”

  “’Cause it’s the truth?”

  “I know, but you’d lose the fame, the love of the people—”

  “The mayor’s car.”

  Chicago glanced at her and squirmed nervously in his seat. “You wouldn’t get any press coverage as normal, boring kids. Who’d want to talk to you?”

  Sammi opened the door and stepped out of the SkyLimo. “My friends, that’s who.”

  “El Solo Libre. I like the sound of that.” GOR-DONNA stared at a grinning Alex, who was into his fifth Mega-Choco-Bomb Marshmallow Root Beer Smoothie.

  He nodded slowly. “I know. Awesome, right?”

  “So how would El Solo Libre be any different from AlienSlayer Alex? Or Herbert? Or Sammi?”

  “Pfff. Please. Much cooler costume, for one thing. And he wouldn’t show aliens any mercy. He would show them some pretty devastating kung fu/Mexican wrestling combo moves, though. Which would be devastating. If you were an alien, I mean.”

  “I see. And what if he came face to face with a Klapthorian DeathSlug?”

  “You mean those things that scared away all the G’Daliens all those years ago? Well, first of all, no way would El Solo Libre just run away and give up without a fight. He’d get up in their faces and be all, ‘Yeah?! You want summa this? Huh? HUH?’ That’d probably be enough to scare ’em. Wouldn’t even have to lift a finger.”

  SLUUURRRRP!

  Alex finished off another smoothie. He was feeling good. He noticed his interviewer smiling at him. An even wider grin came over her enormous face.

  “What?”

  She leaned in close and spoke in a hushed voice. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but as an intergalactic reporter, I have the contact information of a wide variety of life-forms throughout the universe—both friendly and unfriendly.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “It might be good for the story to see firsthand how a solo AlienSlayer would talk to a race of notorious space bullies.”

  Alex’s eyes grew wide. He began imagining tough-sounding things he might say to some slimy alien a zillion miles away.

  “Oh, but what was I thinking? In order to make an intergalactic alien call, we’d need access to some kind of powerful, high-tech, top-of-the-line supercomputer—”

  “Hey!” Alex exclaimed. “We’ve got one of those!”

  GOR-DONNA suddenly looked over at the massive SarcasmaTron. It nearly ran from one end of the lair to the other.

  “What an extraordinary coincidence! So you do!”

  Alex was suddenly struck with a pang of sheer wrongness—using the SlayerLair supercomputer to crank call a race of mean and violent space bullies was highly irresponsible, potentially dangerous, and 100 percent guaranteed to make Herbert and Sammi really, really angry.

  “Let’s do it,” he said.

  Herbert sat waiting at a table near the door of Andretti’s Pizzeria, staring down at his favorite combo: spinach, olives, and mushrooms, with extra anchovies. He took advantage of the fact that his booth was the only one not violently flying around the antigravity restaurant and slowly lifted a fat, greasy slice to his mouth.

  CRASH! SPLAT! The slice went flying out of his hand and stuck to the nearby wall as a flying booth slammed into his.

  CLICK! A G’Dalien took his picture with a tiny camera. “G’Day!” She giggled, waving excitedly. “Huge fan!”

  Herbert tightened his seatbelt and reached for another slice of his smelly pizza.

  Sammi suddenly jumped into the seat next to him, causing him to drop the slice in his lap. She looked upset as she buckled up.

  As Herbert tried again, Sammi gripped the wheel in the center of the table and spun it around. Their booth veered off into the center of the restaurant, joining the others in a crazy, dangerous dance. As she angrily whirled their booth faster and faster, they bounced around t
he room, and she started to feel better.

  SMASH! SPLORT!

  Another slice flew out of Herbert’s hand and landed in the birthday cake of a little girl who was zooming by.

  Herbert hated this place.

  “I’m officially calling a team meeting.”

  “We can’t. Alex isn’t here.”

  “Which is fortunate, since he’s the topic of our team meeting. Alex has recently displayed a dangerously independent streak. And I’m beginning to observe signs of behavioral abnormalities in you as well.”

  “Behavioral abnormalities?” Sammi spun the wheel. Herbert’s side of the table crashed into a booth full of Anti-Gravi-T-Ball players, dousing him in fruit juice.

  “Between you forgetting yourself in front of the mayor and Alex walking away from a huge public event to do a one-on-one interview, I feel it’s time we reviewed The Rules.”

  “Or maybe it’s time we just told everyone the truth.” Sammi ducked to avoid a piping-hot slice of pepperoni as it sailed by her head and smacked Herbert in the face.

  He peeled it off. “We’ve discussed this already. It doesn’t do anyone any good to tell, and it isn’t doing anyone any harm to not tell. End of discussion.”

  “I don’t know about that anymore,” Sammi said. “This whole Flee-Festival nonsense, celebrating how the G’Daliens allowed themselves to be kicked off their home planet by a bunch of bullies. It’s pathetic! They’ve never stood up for themselves, and now that we’ve tricked them into thinking we’ll fight their battles for them, they never will.”

  Herbert sighed. “Again, the chances of an alien attack are a tetraquadzillion-to-one. It’s a virtual impossibility that we’ll ever have to do anything even remotely heroic.”

  Sammi spun the wheel again, this time slamming the booth to a stop. She unbuckled and turned to Herbert.

  “The fact that we don’t have to do anything to get all of this fame and SkyLimos and stuff is exactly what bothers me. And I know if we told Alex the truth, it’d bother him, too. So that makes you and Chicago the only ones who don’t mind being total and complete phonies. It doesn’t take a genius to see who’s behaving abnormally around here.”