Hot Dog and Bob: Adventure 2 (5 page)

“This is a nightmare!” cried Clementine. “We have to stop it! Why won’t this stupid bubble pop?”

“Don’t worry,” I said, reaching into my pocket. “I have a kazoo!”

“That’s it?” said Clementine. “A kazoo?”

“This kazoo isn’t just any kazoo,” I said. “This is
the plan!
”

“About that plan,” said Hot Dog. “I’m afraid it’s not exactly what you’d call a great trapped-in-a-bubble plan. It’s more like a—let’s see, how should I put this—
not
-trapped-in-a-bubble plan. Know what I mean, partner?”

Clementine groaned. “Good-bye, sweet world. It was nice knowing you.”

“Wait,” I said. “If we give up now, the whole world will be erased! There has to be some way to get out of this bubble!”

I searched my backpack, my lunch box and my freaking-out brain for an answer. Finally, at the very bottom of my backpack, I discovered a can of soda pop.

“Purple Blast!” I said.

“
Eww!
You drink that disgusting stuff?” asked Clementine.

“Marco was passing it out after our soccer game last week,” I said. “I forgot all about it. If I’m remembering the facts right, there are enough artificial colors, sweeteners and chemicals in this little can to eat a hole through pretty much anything.”

“Including an unpoppable bubble?” said Clementine.

“Hurry up, partner!” said Hot Dog. “Time’s a-wastin’ and those pencils are erasin’!”

I shook the can of Purple Blast and aimed it at the bubble, and soda pop exploded everywhere.

“It’s working!” cheered Clementine. “The bubble is disintegrating!”

The good news was that we were free. The bad news was that we were too late. The only things left of our classmates were pitiful pink piles of eraser dust.

“Now, on to the plan!” I said, pulling out my kazoo. “You make the trap, and I’ll lead them into it.”

Hot Dog sneakily snuck over to Miss Lamphead’s desk. He opened the drawer and filled it with glue. “Do your thing!” he said.

I ran over to the sticky trap and played my kazoo. If the plan worked, the pencil snatchers would follow my music and get stuck in the glue, and the world would be saved. Unfortunately, the pencil snatchers didn’t follow my kazoo music at all. They just danced to it!

“Cool rockin’ tunes,” the Scribbler said. “We could use a little music around here! I knew you would come in handy somehow. And you, human over there in the pink skirt, what useful thing do
you
do?”

Clementine grabbed Hot Dog. Then she started shaking and banging on him like a tambourine.

“Oh, um, I play the hot dog!” she said. “It’s a very, uh,
popular
instrument here on Earth!”

Hot Dog yelped as Clementine banged. Between our yelping and kazooing and their
dancing, one thing was clear. The pencil snatchers definitely did
not
have supersensitive ears. So much for Hot Dog’s plan. We were toast for sure.

“Don’t worry,” Hot Dog squeaked between the yelps. “I’ll think of a new plan any minute!”

Yeah, right. I wasn’t exactly getting my hopes up.

“You two can stay until I get tired of your tunes,” the Scribbler told us. “After that we’ll need to erase you like the others.”

When he said “you two” instead of “you three,” I realized something. The Scribbler really believed that Hot Dog was just a musical instrument. He had no idea that the yelping thing in Clementine’s hands was any kind of superhero at all. I tooted my kazoo and prayed that Hot Dog was going to surprise us with a plan that actually worked—hopefully
soon!

Meanwhile, the Scribbler and his Pencil Snatchers gang danced and sang.

Erase, erase, erase this world.

Come on, everybody, let’s erase this world!

Erase all the boys, erase all the girls.

Yeah, we’re gonna scribble up

A whole new world!

I’d always dreamed of playing in a band, but my dream didn’t look anything like this.

Then all of a sudden a different sound came out of Hot Dog. It wasn’t a yelping sound. It was louder, it was stranger, it was …
smellier!

“Stinkin’ sardines!”
Clementine gagged. “What died in
your
bun?”

Clementine and I were beyond grossed out by Hot Dog’s disgusting fart, but it was worth it. The evil pencils were dropping like flies!

“What’s happening?” gagged Clementine. “Are they dying?”

“Pencil snatchers have one great weakness,” said Hot Dog. “They have extremely sensitive noses.”

“I thought you said they had extremely sensitive
ears!
” I said.

“Ears, noses,” said Hot Dog. “There are so many body parts. Can you blame a guy for gettin’ them a little mixed up once in a while?”

First of all, the pencil snatchers didn’t really have
that
many body parts to get mixed up. Second of all, I was blaming Hot Dog. I mean, how hard can it be to remember the one and only incredibly important fact that could save the world?

“Usually they just erase anything that stinks,” Hot Dog explained. “But they were so busy singing and dancing they didn’t see—er,
smell
—this one comin’! And now, if you’ll kindly help me dispose of this mess.”

One by one, we stuck the pencils into Miss Lamphead’s sharpener and sharpened them until there was nothing left.

“I don’t mean to be ungrateful or anything,” said Clementine, plugging her nose. “But do you think you could do something about this smell?”

Hot Dog pushed a secret bun button and sprayed a twinkling mist of flowery-smelling perfume all over the room.

“Ahhh, my favorite scent!” said a voice. “Like roses in springtime!” It was the Scribbler. How could we have forgotten to destroy him?

“Whoops!” said Hot Dog. “Looks like I might have sweetened things up just a little too soon!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” the Scribbler said, scribbling thick black lines around Hot Dog. “In fact, I’d say your timing was perfect!”