Scurvy Goonda (23 page)

They both waited for Ted’s response.

“I think you should work it out yourselves,” said Ted, smiling inside as they started arguing again.

But then he heard something.

“Hush!” said Ted, and Joelle-Michelle and Carolina were quiet.

Music. A melody was drifting down from far above; there was no mistaking what it was:
Duh, duh, duh-duh! Duh, duh, duh-duh!
The wedding march.

“Sounds like President Skeleton and Scurvy Goonda have started their wedding ceremony,” said the living statue.

“Holy crow!” said Ted. “Poor Scurvy.”

The wedding march started again, this time in a different key.

Da, dah, da-da! Da, dah, da-da!

“No,” said Joelle-Michelle. “They are just rehearsing.”

Ted knew he needed to help his friend. Fast. If Scurvy was just upstairs…

“Use your hand!” said Joelle-Michelle.

“What does that mean?” said Carolina.

“I’ve discovered that my hand does weird … things,” said Ted.

Come on, think of a way out of here
. He pictured himself turning into a drill and grinding his way upward through the ceiling, or changing the cell bars into chocolate and eating his way through, but nothing happened with his hand, and he felt everybody in the cell looking at him.

“Worthless hand!” yelled Ted, slapping the wall. “Stupid birthmark! Come on, Ted,
think!”

Ted’s outburst silenced Joelle-Michelle and Carolina, who had started bickering again. His voice bounced up and down the corridor, echoing off the stone:
Come on Ted think come on Ted think come on Ted think …

But the only response came in the form of a hacking cough from the end of the cell block.

The courtyard was
nearly
perfect. Dozens of tables with tasteful sugared-fruit centerpieces. Hundreds of chairs for less important guests, and a general-admission standing area for abstract companions who wanted a glimpse of the high life but couldn’t swing a formal invitation. There was a stage for the orchestra off to one side, and a mahogany bar off to the other. Dead center at the back of the courtyard loomed a white wedding gazebo decorated with silk bunting and taxidermied doves.

Scurvy and Persephone were sitting on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, at a table piled high with bacon on Scurvy’s side and a half dozen glasses of milk on Persephone’s. Milk was Persephone’s way of getting in shape for the wedding. All that she could improve upon was her skeleton, and she had read in
MORE, MORE, MORE
magazine that calcium was good for bones. When Scurvy pointed out that the milk wouldn’t do anything because she wasn’t actually
digesting
it, she shot him such a look that he decided not to mention it again.

“You haven’t touched your bacon, Scurvy-Burvy Glopsy-Gurby,” said Persephone.

“I know, I know,” said Scurvy. “I think I’m gettin’ a wee bit
tired
of it. Ya’ve probably been feeding me tha equivalent of four or five pigs a day.”

“Seven,” said Persephone. “You’ve been eating seven pigs a day.”

“Seems a mite
excessive
.”

“Oh, come now,” said Persephone. “I’m just getting my
big man
happy for our
big day
. Doesn’t the wedding march sound
wonderful
?”

In the courtyard, a creature in a powdered wig was playing a grand piano specially imported for the ceremony.

“Louder!” yelled Persephone, and the organist responded.

Duh, duh, duh-duh! Duh, duh, duh-duh!

“Fer me second wedding, we banged out that song on tha side of me ship using cats,” said Scurvy.

“Don’t let’s talk about your other wives!” said Persephone.

“Rightie-o.”

“Put your arm around me,” ordered Persephone.

“But yer on tha other side of tha table, and I’m all tha way over here.”

“Then come over
here
.”

Scurvy scooted his chair over to the other side of the table and reluctantly draped his arm over Persephone’s bony shoulder.

“Both arms,” said Persephone.

Scurvy awkwardly complied.

“Press your face against mine,” said Persephone. “It will be so cute.”

Her skull bones felt hard against Scurvy’s cheek.

“As much as I like planning this wedding,” said Persephone, “I can’t
wait
until it’s over.”

“Aye,” said Scurvy. “It’ll be tha best day of me life when this is over.”

“Oh, Scurvy,”
said Persephone, pressing her face harder against Scurvy’s. “You’re so sweet.”

Scurvy didn’t say anything. Persephone waited.

“Sweet… on you?”

“Aww,”
said Persephone. “But do you know the
real
reason I want this wedding to be over?”

“Not sure I do.”

Persephone leaned close to Scurvy’s ear.

“Our honeymoon,” she whispered.

Scurvy’s stomach lurched.

“Tha honeymoon,” he said. “Where we have tah spend weeks and weeks together?”

“Please!”
said Persephone. “Ours will be months long. Years. I’ve planned everything for after the invasion.”

“Where are we going?”

“The coast of Brazil. I want to try out a new bikini,” said Persephone.

Scurvy shuddered.

“You’re shaking,” said Persephone.

“Just a wee bit chilly,” said Scurvy. “We wouldn’t be going on this vacation for
a while
, though, right? Because ya need tah get things in order here in Middlemost?”

Persephone laughed. “Things are well in order here in Middle most,” she said. “No, we’re going the
moment
the ceremony is over, and everybody is coming with us.”

“I don’t think I’m completely understandin’.”

“Bugslush!” yelled Persephone. “Telescope!”

Bugslush hustled into the room, carrying an enormous brass telescope on his back. With a great grunt he set it up on the edge of the balcony.

“Very good,” said Persephone. “That will be all.”

“One th-thing I h-have to ask,” said Bugslush.

“Well?” said Persephone.

“Th-the raid on the ACORN hideout w-was a s-success,” said Bugslush.

“That’s not a question,” said Persephone.

“W-what do you want to be done w-with the p-prisoners?”

“Oh, just have them taken to a factory and recycled,” said Persephone. “There’s no need to interrogate them if we’re all leaving tomorrow anyway.”

“V-very good,” said Bugslush. “I’ll tell the g-guards.”

Bugslush shuffled away from the balcony.

“What do ya mean, we’re all leaving tomorrow?” said Scurvy.

“Look through the telescope,” said Persephone.

Scurvy placed his eye against the end of the telescope. The horizon came into focus, but all he saw was a field of straw and a quiet lake.

“Pan left,” said Persephone. “Next to the bust of our heads I had carved into the mountainside.”

Scurvy rotated the telescope until he spotted a mountain that had been chiseled into a sculpture of Scurvy and Persephone locked in a passionate lip-lock.

“Ya had us carved?” said Scurvy.

“Of course,” said Persephone. “I had to have my soldiers do
something
while they were waiting around. Now look
next
to our faces.”

Scurvy saw it. Persephone’s entire military had gathered next to the mountain, armed and ready to move. Scurvy had never seen so many weird creatures together in one place. On
the other side of the mountain was an enormous vent. It looked the same as the one he had crawled through underneath the Crusher, but it was twenty times as tall and hundreds of times as wide.

“That’s the last open vent,” said Persephone. “The one we’re all going through. When I had all the other vents sealed, I had that one enlarged.”

“Where does it lead?”

“That’s the beauty of it,” said Persephone. “Our vents always lead to supermarkets and shops and those types of places. So our largest vent leads to the world’s largest store.”

“Which is?”

“Macy’s. It’s in New York City,” said Persephone. “We also considered a Home Depot in Michigan, but I wanted to pick up some perfume. You’ll adore me in Chanel No. 5.”

It was the middle of the night, and it was the first time that the courtyard had been silent all day, aside from the slight whimpering coming from underneath the mahogany bar. Swamster, who had chewed up a tablecloth to make himself a bed there, was lying down, drinking a mint-ini.

“Oh,” he moaned. “You stupid Swamster. You should have known better.”

He couldn’t believe that all the years he had spent with President Skeleton had meant nothing. A rumor had spread that the ACORN prisoners were going to be transported to processing factories tomorrow morning, and what with ACORN being wiped out and the attack on Earth, Swamster now realized that during the years he’d spent working for a promotion, he had turned a blind eye to Persephone’s true nature.

“Here’s to me—a total idiot,” said Swamster, taking another gulp of his mint-ini.

He closed his eyes and tried again to fall asleep. This time, it wasn’t only his thoughts that distracted him. Cutting through the silence of the courtyard, he could hear a pair of female voices echoing up from the palace basement.

“Slug!”

“Porc!”

Swamster climbed unsteadily to his feet and stepped out from behind the bar. He walked to the center of the courtyard, following the voices.

“Ted, tell Joelle-Michelle to place her head in the crack of the floor and wait for a steam blast!”

“Ted, tell this she-swine to find someplace else to flap her snout!”

Swamster realized he wasn’t the only one listening to the catfight. He gazed up at the balcony, where Scurvy Goonda stood in his red pajamas.

“You should be resting for your big day, sir,” Swamster called out.

“Can’t sleep,” said Scurvy. “Did ya happen tah hear—were those girls mentioning tha name Ted?”

“Sounded like that to me.”

Scurvy considered this.

“How big are ya?” said Scurvy.

“Maybe five feet tall.”

“If I was tah jump off this balcony, do ya think ya could catch me? Can’t go out through tha room, ’cause there are guards outside tha door.”

“I’m not sure I could,” said Swamster. “You’re quite a bit heftier than you were when we first met.”

“Aye, but fer a man my size, I land like a feather,” said Scurvy.

Swamster hesitated.

“Please,” said Scurvy. “I need tah see if tha Ted they’re talking about is me friend.”

“All right,” said Swamster, walking a little unsteadily beneath the balcony. “Leap!”

Scurvy swung one leg over the balcony and then the other.

Swamster looked up at the pajama bootees covering Scurvy’s feet.

“I’m gonna let myself fall,” said Scurvy.

“I’m not sure—”

WHOMP!
Scurvy cannonballed into Swamster from above, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Not tha best catcher,” said Scurvy, holding his hand out to Swamster. “But a better cushion, I’ve never met.”

“Errgh,” groaned Swamster. “Thanks.” Scurvy pulled Swamster to his feet.

“Which way is tha entrance tah tha basement?”

Swamster pointed with his paw just as Persephone’s voice was ringing out into the night above them: “GUARDS! GO GET MY SCURVY!”

Scurvy knew that once Persephone spotted him sprinting toward the cellar stairs in the courtyard, it wouldn’t be long until the guards tackled him and brought him back to her bedroom or perhaps somewhere
worse
.

Scurvy ran, barreling through the basement doors and down the stone stairs, Swamster running beside him. Their footsteps whacked the stairs in unison—
clop! clop! clop!
Scurvy had just enough extra wind to tell Swamster, “This might get hairy!”

BANG!
They ran into the first wave of guards rushing up from the cellar. Without breaking his stride, Scurvy snapped a tooth out of a goblin’s mouth and plunged it into the shoulder of a tweedy professor. Both fell to the steps in pain. Then he head-butted a harpy and kneed a Neanderthal. A few seconds later, he and Swamster were making their way down to the next staircase, where another swell of guards was dashing toward them.

Scurvy stole a staff from a wizard and cracked it over the head of a fashion model; he took a baker’s saltshaker and dumped it over a huge snail; he wrenched a dagger from a sultan and used it to burst a man whose head was a red balloon (which had made him a very impractical choice for a guard).

Swamster had never seen a fighter as brash and fearless as Scurvy, but he could tell that the pirate was running out of gas
when he started to gasp and slow down. The guards kept coming, and soon they were leaping all over Scurvy, tearing at his hair and his pajamas and dragging him away up the stairs.

“You were helping him escape!” accused a sheikh, who seemed to be in charge.

“No, I wasn’t, I was chasing him!” said Swamster.

Nearby, Scurvy managed to break away from his captors and take off running, yelling over and over, “I AM NOT GETTING MARRIED TO A PILE OF BONES!”

In the chaos of chasing down Scurvy, the guards let Swamster slip past. While more guards rushed up the stairs, Swamster made his way deeper into the basement, down one flight of stairs and then the next, where the landing leveled out into a long block of jail cells.

“Oh dear,” said Swamster.

Cell after cell was packed to the brim with wounded ACORN fighters crammed tightly together. Tacked next to each cell was a command:

Swamster realized that the commands corresponded to the order in which ACORN fighters would be taken to the factories.

All of these ab-coms would be exterminated, because of him.

“Hey, over here!” said a voice, and Swamster saw a teenage boy inside the cell marked
THIS ONE FIRST!

“You’re the hamster-swimmer-thing we captured at the factory,” said the boy.