Brain Freeze! Page 4

  Anyhow, Sweaty was on the loose, looking for revenge and causing a lot of damage in the process. She was taking it out on the whole city; everybody was going to pay for the fact that she got fired. We had to act now.

  But it was Saturday!

  I had kind of been hoping to play with my friends. If crime that called for superheroes was going to happen on the weekends, that was gonna be a really big check in the negative column for me.

  Once we got home, Grandpa told me to go up to my room for a surprise.

  “But hurry up. You know, we gotta save the city and all.”

  “Uh, right,” I answered.

  First thing I saw (or should I say heard) when I got to my room was Bert the pigeon snoring soundly on my pillow. It also looked like he’d been snacking on the secret Butterfinger stash I kept in my nightstand.

  Second thing I saw, lying right in the middle of my bed, was a little superhero outfit. I picked it up. The pigeon rustled.

  “Keep it down!” Bert snapped. “If I don’t have a four-hour nap every day, I get . . . unpleasant.”

  The uniform was blue, with orange letters across the front that spelled ICK.

  “Ain’t she a beauty?” Gramps yelled from the doorway. “You’re the Ice Cream Kid! That’s your superhero name!”

  I held up the outfit and looked at it again.

  “But it says ‘ick’,” I pointed out, thinking maybe Gramps hadn’t caught that the first time around.

  “Right! For Ice Cream Kid!” he responded.

  “Ick,” I mumbled.

  “Does that make me your side-ick? Instead of sidekick? Because I’m not cool with that,” Bert said.

  Gramps wanted to know if I needed help with the tights. Boy, now there’s a weird thing to hear your grandpa ask. I’m pretty sure Bert was chuckling under the covers at this. I told Grandpa I’d manage, and he headed out of the room.

  It was a struggle, but I finally got the uniform on. There was even an orange mask that covered my eyes, kind of like the Lone Ranger’s. I pulled on the mask and turned toward the mirror.

  Other than the ICK across the chest, the outfit was pretty cool! It kind of looked like the ones those performers who dunk from trampolines at halftime of basketball games wear. I love those guys!

  I took a closer look in the mirror. Now I could tell Grandma Joyce had made this superhero suit. She couldn’t cook, but she could sure sew. I practiced a few action poses. Bert flew over onto my shoulder. Not sure we looked like a crime-fighting duo. More like a confused little pirate who couldn’t afford a parrot.

  Grandpa called me from downstairs: “Yo! Ice Cream Kid! It’s Go Time!”

  I guess I couldn’t stall any longer.

  I looked at my sidekick.

  “I guess this is it, our first battle with evil,” I said. “Well, besides the ducks.” Bert the pigeon seemed to understand what a big moment this was for the two of us. He looked me right in the eyes, tapped me on the shoulder with his Butterfinger-coated wing, and said very seriously, “Just so you know, kid, if things get dangerous out there, I’m gonna be nowhere to be found. I’m a total coward. I won’t have your back, your front, or your side.”

  Not what you want to hear from your sidekick!

  We headed downstairs. The last piece of my outfit was a little insulated fanny pack to hold some ice cream bars and stuff. Grandpa was standing there, in his Mighty Super Gus outfit, putting a pack of Beech-Nut Gum into his socks. I could tell Mom was about to start crying. Dad came over and hugged me. He told me I’d be fine. Just stick with Grandpa.

  “You’re a Snackcracker,” Dad said. “Fighting crime, and, um, accounting are what we do. Go get ’em, son.”

  Mom squeezed me tighter than ever, brushed some pigeon doodie off my shoulder, and ran upstairs. She didn’t want me to see her cry. Although hearing her do it wasn’t much fun, either.

  Grandpa woke up Captain Corgi, helped him squeeze into his little outfit, which of course caused him to toot, and we were off to battle evil and save Mock City! And, as all great superheroes do, we puttered off in Grandpa’s Nash Rambler.

  Chapter 10

  It’s Go Time

  Grandpa raced the Nash Rambler through the city streets. (Well, racing for Gramps’s old car was getting up to 25 miles per hour. But at least the troubled part of town was only a few minutes away.)

  Our first stop was Al’s Donuts, with their famous and disturbing slogan “We’ve got the biggest holes in town.” This was where Police Chief Glazensprinkle had set up his command post. Al didn’t seem too pleased. The smell of the place was amazing. I started toward a large sugarcoated bear claw, but Grandpa pulled me back.

  “Maybe afterward,” he said. Grandpa Gus had switched completely to Mighty Super Gus. He was serious. I guess doughnuts could wait . . . for a little bit.

  With a small, gooey clump of jelly on his face, Chief Glazensprinkle explained the situation. Bert joined the cops at the counter for doughnuts and coffee. He really seemed to blend right in.

  According to the chief, Sweaty Crocker was on a crime spree downtown. Robbing from the citizens of Mock City was her way of getting revenge for being put in prison. The police had closed off a six-block area. The streets were eerily empty. It was quiet . . . too quiet. (I always wanted to say that.) Somewhere out there was Sweaty Crocker.

  “I’m a little nervous about this one, Irwin,” said Grandpa. “I’ve never gone up against her. Not sure what to expect.”

  I know you’re probably thinking a fat old lunch lady doesn’t sound too scary, but you never met Sweaty Crocker. Before getting tossed out of the school system, she’d witnessed a lot of cafeteria food fights. She knew all the tricks. Actually, most of the fights had started from her rotten cooking. Sweaty’s poor work attitude and food-throwing abilities made her almost impossible to stop. We were up against a supervillain.

  But we were superheroes.

  Grandpa, Captain Corgi, Bert the pigeon, and I set out to go take back the city. I suggested we walk side by side in slow motion like they do in movie previews, with some cool song playing. Grandpa said I should just focus on staying alive.

  Uh-oh. I never thought about it like that before.

  Chief Glazensprinkle said one last thing before we left: “Be extra cautious, the lunch lady’s not alone, she’s got a sidekick.”

  As we got closer to the crime zone, things got pretty scary for this fourth grader. There were policemen lying all over the streets covered in blood and groaning. Captain Corgi went up and licked one.

  “GROSS!” I screamed.

  “Nobody gets to call me disgusting anymore,” Bert said.

  “Calm down. It’s not blood, it’s pasta sauce,” said Grandpa.

  Then he got a little on his fingertip and tasted it himself. He squinted his eyes in a disgusted way and added, “And it’s the cheap stuff.”

  We heard some voices, and they didn’t sound far away. Just as I turned to see where they were coming from, Grandpa yelled, “DUCK!”

  SPLAT!

  A tiny explosion hit the sidewalk right behind us.

  “That’s it. I’m gone,” said Bert the pigeon. And he flew away . . . straight back to the doughnut command center. Grandpa said we might have to hit craigslist to find me a new sidekick. That web site has everything.

  We dived, um, dove, um, jumped for cover behind a bus bench. The scent of garlic and evil was overpowering. Grandpa popped his head up real quick.

  “Meatballs. From the old clock tower. So cliché.”

  I’d have to trust him on this one, having no idea what “cliché” means.

  I grabbed the tiny binoculars from my pack and looked up at the tower. I got my first glimpse of our villain, Sweaty Crocker, with her greasy hair, and mole on her cheek. Ewww. She was reloading her long slotted spoon with another round of meatballs.


  Captain Corgi was still eating one of the last missiles. That dog would eat anything—even Grandma’s food.

  The meatballs quickly worked their ways on him. Captain Corgi farted, forcing us to change locations. Every-where we went, Sweaty Crocker still had the advantage, because she was high above us. She could see us much better than we could see her, which didn’t seem fair since we’re the good guys. Splat! Zing! Whap! Things were landing all around us. A meatball hit, like, two inches from me!

  “I’m scared, Grandpa!” I yelled.

  He grabbed my shoulders and looked me right in the eye.

  “Irwin, you’re going to be fine. Now take cover behind that newspaper box!” Grandpa ripped open his pack of gum and tossed the wrapper aside. Then he went over and picked it up and put it in a trash can. He always set a good example.

  And then Mighty Super Gus started chewing.

  Chapter 11

  I’m Telling On You

  Grandpa got a slightly crazy look in his eye. He began vibrating and then took off toward the clock tower. He moved slowly at first, and I could swear he was making those backfire noises old cars in cartoons make. But then he picked up speed. Gramps was moving! And Captain Corgi was keeping up with him! This was amazing. All these years we’d heard stories about Mighty Super Gus and his powers, and there he was! AND HE WAS MY GRANDPA!

  The two of them made it to the base of the clock tower. Sweaty Crocker couldn’t see them from her spot up above.

  “Where’d you go, you losers?” she yelled.

  Name calling is never cool.

  Then Grandpa’s super strength kicked in. He grabbed hold of a brick corner and shook the clock tower with all his might. Sweaty Crocker started to lose her balance.

  She wobbled . . .

  and then wobbled some more . . .

  and then she fell over the edge.

  Sweaty Crocker was falling straight to the ground! Man, this was going to make a HUGE pothole! Then I noticed something else.

  Sweaty Crocker wasn’t alone! A tiny lunch lady was holding her hand and falling with her! She had a mask on, so I couldn’t get a good look at her.

  I thought they were both goners for sure. And then, just a few feet before the big and little lunch ladies splattered all over the gum-covered sidewalks of Mock City, WHOOSH! Their hairnets opened up into parachutes! The two of them glided to a hard, but safe, landing. (Which actually was pretty cool!)

  Then the little lunch lady did something strange. Before she put her hairnet back on, she did a big ol’ hair flip!

  Could it be?

  It had to be.

  I’ve seen that stupid hair flip a hundred times over the past few years. Nobody else in town flipped their hair like that! And the name! Of course, she only went by an initial.

  The ‘C’ stood for Crocker.

  The little lunch lady was really a lunch girl: Wendy ‘C’! And her grandma was a stinky supervillain. Wendy C. must be in training with her grandma like I am with my grandpa. Wow! My real world and my work world were colliding!

  The Crockers folded up their hairnets and ran right past Grandpa and Captain Corgi, who were leaning against the tower trying to catch their breath. They were too worn out from all that running and pushing to stop the archvillains. Sweaty Crocker and Wendy C. were getting away with their plastic tub full of loot!

  “Hey! That’s the cafeteria tub we put our dirty lunch trays in!” I yelled. “You guys even stole the thing you’re putting your stolen stuff in! That’s just wrong!”

  I needed to act fast. Was I ready to try something by myself? I was only, like, ten minutes into my crime-fighting career! I looked over to Grandpa, and he winked and gave me a thumbs-up. I unzipped my fanny pack (really need to come up with a better name than that) and pulled out a fudgesicle.

  When I looked up again, the villains were already two blocks away. Man, that big old lady in corrective shoes could move! I chomped down into the fudgesicle. The freeze hit me, I started shaking, and ZOOM! I took off like a thousand guinea pigs all rolled into one! Wait, not guinea pigs. What was that fast animal Ms. Frost taught us about? Cheetahs! Yeah! I was running like a thousand cheetahs rolled into one.

  The buildings were a blur as I ran. At probably 300 miles per hour, the only thought I had was: “Don’t run into a parking meter. That would suck.”

  I caught up to Sweaty Crocker and Wendy C. in, like, two seconds. They were right in front of me!

  Unfortunately, I still hadn’t figured out how to stop.

  I blew right past them at top speed. That probably looked pretty stupid. I panicked, but I managed to yell, “Halt! Or I’ll, um, run past you in the other direction!”

  Man, that was lame. I looked up just in time to see I was headed right for the big fountain in the town square.

  SPLASH!

  I went in hard and came up next to some ducks swimming in the fountain, which smelled like the city swimming pool and was kind of warm, like the shallow end where the kindergarteners swim . . . and pee. Gross. I looked back and could see Grandpa and Captain Corgi coming, but not the bad guys, er, gals.

  I reached down into the water, yanked open my Superhero Tool Belt of Doom (trying out new names for the fanny pack), and grabbed an ice cream sandwich. I ripped open the wrapper. I was hoping it would still let me talk to animals. I sunk my teeth in and right away started to tingle. I turned to a duck and asked in my most confident voice, “Did you see which way those hairnetted villains went?”

  The duck looked at me and said, in a very jerklike way, “Why does your little yoga outfit say ‘ICK’ on the front?”

  “It’s not a little yoga outfit!” I barked. “It’s clearly a superhero costume!” Man, I was really starting to hate ducks. Luckily, one of Mock City’s giant friendly rats overheard my question and said,

  “There they go. On that sweet-looking hot dog cart.”

  I turned and saw Sweaty Crocker and Wendy C. race by a few blocks away. They had one of those food vendor’s umbrella carts—with a huge engine on it. Ya’ know, for bad guys they had some pretty dang sweet stuff.

  Grandpa and Captain Corgi were racing behind them, huffing and puffing, and getting close. While Wendy C. drove the hotdog hotrod (which was highly illegal since she’s the same age as me), Sweaty Crocker reached in her apron and pulled out a HUGE soup ladle!

  “GRANDPA!” I screamed. “Look out!”

  Sweaty squinted her beady eyes, took aim, and started slinging something at them. They were huge, weird-looking objects. I took a quick bite of my ice cream, and my super-vision kicked in. Cool! I’ve got super-vision! Now I could see that the wicked lunch lady was firing . . . tater tots! This REALLY made me mad!

  “Hey, Crocker!” I hollered. “Tater tots weren’t meant for evil! They are a force for good in the world!”

  I needed speed. I reached into my pack for some fudgesicle. I planned on going so fast I could do, like, a slow-motion cartoony thing and catch the tater tots in midair. Heck, maybe the Crockers’ cart even had ketchup, and I could eat a few. It was about time for my afternoon snack.

  I took a big bite of chocolate power and started a new freeze. Right then I saw Grandpa and Captain Corgi both get hit by a huge barrage of tots. They went down hard.

  And I went from scared to freaked!

  Chapter 12

  They’re Getting Away

  Focus, Irwin, focus.

  I knew this time I had to really try and control my speed. A quick bite of ice cream, I got tingling and took off toward Sweaty Crocker and Wendy C. I was still about fifty yards away when I reached top speed, so I jumped up and stuck my feet out in front of me, kung fu style. I flew through the air the rest of the way, and karate-kicked the hot dog cart! Food, jewelry, silverware, and ketchup bottles went flying everywhere. I had two immediate thoughts:

  1. That was a su
percool move on my part.

  2. I’m pretty sure I just broke my big toe in about five places.

  I looked back to Grandpa and Captain Corgi. Grandpa was hurt, but he gave me another thumbs-up. Man, I just realized what a tough guy Mighty Super Gus is. Sweaty and Wendy were staggering up from the wreckage of the cart. Now was my chance! I needed to say something that would scare them into giving up.

  “Give it up, Wendy . . . or I’ll tell the principal!”

  Dang. Lame again. Nobody likes a tattletale.

  “Irwin Snackcracker? You dorkasaurus!” Wendy C. replied. “You can’t stop me and Grandma Sweaty.”

  “Oh, and nice butt bag, loser,” she added. “Goes great with your yoga outfit.”

  “It’s a fanny pack! I mean . . . it’s a Macho Man Pouch!” I shot back.

  While Wendy C. and I argued, Grandpa Gus snuck up behind her granny. He jumped her, and next thing I knew, Mighty Super Gus and Sweaty Crocker were locked in hand-to-hand combat!

  It was kind of disturbing to watch older people brawl. After each punch or kick they stopped to complain about a certain pain or body ache. They called A LOT of time-outs. Captain Corgi limped over to the action. He was hurt, but did what he could to help. He farted, which actually helped nobody. Bless his heart for trying.

  Sweaty reached deep inside her apron and pulled out another soup ladle. She clocked Grandpa Gus upside the head! Captain Corgi bit her ankle, but she smacked him, too.

  I was panicking! I wasn’t helping the situation at all! Wendy C. kicked me in the shin and flipped her hair, which smacked me in the face! This girl was really starting to get on my nerves! She pulled out a squirt gun and cried, “Stand back, Irwin, or ICK, whatever your name is,” she said. “This thing is LOADED with cootie juice!”