Hot Dog and Bob: Adventure 2 (4 page)

When I got to class, Clementine passed me a note that said, “What’s up? How come you never e-mailed me last night?”

I wrote back, “I thought Chomper ate Hot Dog, but everything’s cool now.”

We got our Thursday spelling tests back, and it turned out we all got Fs. Marybell Higgins, who’s never gotten less than an A-minus in her life, was so shocked she fainted.

“I could have sworn most of you got As and Bs,” Miss Lamphead said, checking her grade book. “Oh, heavens! My grades have all been
erased and replaced with Fs! I’m going to take Marybell to Nurse Bunyan’s office. We’ll get to the bottom of this mystery when I get back.”

The second she left, the Scribbler appeared and jumped on top of Miss Lamphead’s desk.

“Things are going to be different around here now that I’m in charge!” he hollered at the top of his evil little pencil lungs. “Get out your pencils for a pop quiz!”

The kids in my class were so surprised they just did just as they were told. But when they reached into their desks, crazy, growling pencils leaped out.

“As you can see, I’ve made a few changes around here,” said the Scribbler. “And I’m about to make a few more. The first pop-quiz question is, Who can guess what the human in the green shirt looks like?”

We looked over at my friend Marco, and his pencil was drawing all over him. Before long he had fur on his face, tons of whiskers and long tusks.

“Sweet! Marco’s a walrus!” exclaimed Barfalot.

“Sweet! Marco’s a walrus!” Pigburt and Slugburt repeated.

“A-plus!” said the Scribbler. “You three must be the smartest students in this whole class.”

“Excellent!” said Barfalot.

“Excellent!” said Pigburt and Slugburt.

It’s probably safe to say that that was the first and last time the Terrible Triplets ever got an A on anything.

Marco stood up and tried to take his walrus head off like it was a Halloween mask.

“You’re wasting your time.” The Scribbler laughed. “We pencil snatchers are master artists. Our work is museum quality and made to last, as in
permanent!
” He looked around. “The next question is, Who can guess what the human in the orange dress is?”

We looked over at Lupi. Her pencil was zipping around her faster than the speed of light.

“Hmm, something fishy’s going on around here,” mumbled Clementine.

She was right. Lupi had a brand-new, perfectly drawn fish head all covered in shiny scales.

“Can I please go to the drinking fountain?” Lupi asked. “For some reason I just got really thirsty.”

The Scribbler ignored her and gave an art lesson to the pencil snatchers instead.

“Better shading! More detail! Are we mere sticks of wood? Or are we the most brilliant artists in the universe? You must practice more, my little scribblers. Practice makes perfect!”

I used my feet to sneak my lunch box out from under my chair. Then I reached down and flipped up the lid. “Shouldn’t we try to stop them?” I whispered. “Hot Dog? Hot Dog, are you in there?”

Hot Dog was snoring away under my carrot sticks. I gave him a poke with my finger.

“Huh? What? Did somebody say something?” he yawned.

“You’re
sleeping?
” I yelled as quietly as I could.

Hot Dog rubbed his eyes. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t exactly get the greatest night’s sleep with all that kazoo playing, if you know what I mean.”

“We’re having a little
oblempray
with
the ibblerscray!
” I whispered.

In the little time our short conversation took, the pencil snatchers had already completed their “masterpieces”: Barfalot was a bear, Pigburt was a pig, Slugburt was a slug, Felicia was a donkey, Jordan was a lion, Roger was an iguana, José was an ostrich, Ricardo was a cow and Ivy was a chimpanzee.

The Scribbler glared at the pencils that were trying to draw on Clementine and me.

“What’s the problem over there?” he asked. “Why haven’t you two completed your assignments?”

Our pencils were buzzing around us, looking completely confused. They were drawing and drawing, but nothing was sticking to us.

“Check it out,” whispered Clementine. “We’re the only ones without animal heads. We’re
pencil proof!
”

“Is it you, Hot Dog?” I whispered. “Are you making it so Clementine and I can’t get drawn on?”

“I would if I could,” said Hot Dog. “I may be a superhero, but I ain’t magic!”

“Stop chattering!” the Scribbler yelled. “How am I supposed to concentrate with all that noise? Who do you think you’re talking to anyway?”

“Oh, that’s just our, uh, imaginary friend!” said Clementine.

“Humans with imaginations?” said the Scribbler. “How unusual. How charming. How possibly
useful!
”

“Useful?” I asked.

“Yes, human in the ugly shirt,” the Scribbler answered. “I’m not sure why, I’m not sure how, but something is telling me that you two could assist me in transforming the planet to my liking.”

“Your liking?” Clementine asked.

“Yes, human in the pink skirt,” said the Scribbler. “This planet is far too crowded. All of your annoying people bodies are cluttering up
my canvas. My art students and I were just having a quick little drawing lesson here before we start erasing.”

“Erasing?” I asked.

“Of course,” he explained. “In order to create a true work of art, an artist must begin with a completely blank canvas. So, as you can see, it is necessary to erase everything and everybody.
I can’t possibly think straight until all of this annoying clutter is gone.”

Then he hopped over and scribbled a gigantic bubble around Clementine and me. We were totally trapped. Our poor animal-headed classmates were running around like crazy. The evil pencil snatchers were trying to erase them. And all we could do was sit in our bubble and watch.