Slimeborgs of the Behemoth: A Scout Brooks Story (Book 2) by Scott Donnelly - HTML preview

CHAPTER TEN

Radical Ricky Rosa and the Freeze Frame

I.

I woke up the next morning with a bit of a headache.  I dreamed about Blorf dying to save our butts and Radar’s soul patch. 

I thought about how the Christmas dance went.  I could have been there with Mandy if I wasn’t such a jerk.  The last time we were together wasn’t my finest hour.  She probably ended up getting a detention because of me.  Maybe the school would let me serve it instead of her. 

 I got dressed in some comfy sweatpants and a hoodie that Chuck had designed and went downstairs for breakfast.

Uncle Jones was sitting at the coffee table drinking a cup of steaming hot coffee. 

“Where’re mom and Mark?” I asked.

 “Your mom ran out for donuts, and Mark is still sleeping I think,” he said.

I sat down and joined my uncle for a cup of Joe.  I creamed and sugared my French Roast and took a hot sip, which burned and welted my top lip.

“So,” Uncle Jones began, “an astronaut soldier you are, huh?”

“Yeah.  Promise not to tell mom?”

“I promise.  After all, you saved my gluteus rump up there.”

“Just doing my job.”

“You did good, Scout.  You have some serious talent in your field.  How long have you been cosmically involved?”

“Since last year.  I stumbled upon all this craziness when I was trying to join and after school activity.  Nog had no choice but to include me.  One thing led to another and, well, here we are.”

“You’re destined to have some awesome adventures just as I have.  I hope you know what you’re in for.”

“I do.”

I took another sip with the same burning results.

“Just wait for it to cool down, Scout.”

I pushed the coffee cup away and waited for the steam lines to diminish. 

“I want to hear all about your adventures,” Uncle Jones said.

I smiled and nodded.  “Of course.”

Uncle Jones downed the last bit of coffee and pushed his coffee mug towards mine.  He stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair.  He put it on and extended his hand.

“Keep it real, Scout.  I’ll see ya around, bro,” he said. 

I stood up and shook his hand.  We shared one last appreciative gaze into each other’s eyes and then he walked out the back door.  What a class act.

The back door opened back up and Uncle Jones came back in, taking off his jacket.

“I forgot I’m staying for Christmas,” he said.

“Oh yeah.”

“That just felt like a good moment to part ways.”

Uncle Jones sat back down at his chair.  “Maybe I’ll have more coffee.”

“Have mine. It’s hot though.”

“Cool.”

II.

Around noon, Nog wanted all of us to meet at his house, so we did.  Chuck and I stood in the corner of his kitchen.  Nog, Smidgeon, Farrow and the newly designed and tuned up Phil sat at the table. 

Nog stood up and cleared his throat – the international sign for “alright, listen up.”

“I’ve called this meeting of the Earth’s International Ambassadors for a couple reasons,” Nog began.  “First of all, I’d like to introduce and welcome Phil ‘The Philclops’ Easton to the E.I.A.”

“Just Philclops.  No ‘the’,” Phil said.

“Very well,” Nog continued.  “Due to a massive anatomical change and exposure to space dangers, he’ll officially be in the organization.  And because of his powerful arm and eye, he’ll be extremely valuable.

“Secondly, I’d like to thank Scout, Chuck and Philclops for saving the universe, uncovering the ‘ghost’ and ending the latest deep-space threat.  A few people were killed in the process, but in a case of good vs. evil, they were necessary deaths.  Counseling will be available upon request for anyone who was guilty of a murder, or loss of any sort of limbs.  Scout, Chuck and Phil, I’m looking at you.”

“And I’m looking at you, Nog,” Phil said, closing his one good eye and zooming in with the other.

“Alright, stop creeping everyone out, Phil,” Nog said. 

“Sorry.”

“Finally, I’d like to say that Fort Nog’s is currently back up and running, even though a huge remodeling is required.  We’ll continue missions, research and explorations in the meantime.  And since Scout and Chuck have proven to be such a good team, and now with the inclusion of The Philclops, I am creating an elite group called ‘The Fellas’, in honor of you guys, and you guys will be them.  As the E.I.A. will continue to grow, ‘The Fellas’ will be the first choice of action against all alien threats.  Congrats.”

Everyone clapped.

Smidgeon stood up and cleared his throat as well.  “I’d also like to make an announcement.  After this school year is over, I plan to retire from Principaling forever.  And with that, I feel like it is my time to retire from the E.I.A. seeing as how I feel pointless here.  I don’t do anything.  I just show up sometimes and chime in for no good reason.  I don’t add any depth to anything.”

 “You’ll be missed, Smidge,” I said.

“I would like to run the idea by you, Nog, of maybe adding my seventeen year old daughter, Adia Smidgeon, to the group.  That way the Smidge’s will always be somewhat involved.  She’s a good student and seems to know a lot about Astronomy.”

“I’ll look into it.  Send me her papers,” Nog said. 

“You got it.”

“That will conclude the meeting,” Nog said.  “Everyone please enjoy your Christmas break.  If there are any breaking developments, I’ll let you all know.  In the meantime, think of me when you’re opening your Santa presents.  Peace, my brothas.”

Phil was required to stay at Fort Nog’s for the remainder of the weekend for monitoring.  Nog said he’d make something up to tell Phil’s mom so there wouldn’t be any worrying.  I smelled a holiday in Europe brewing…

III.

It was time.  Chuck and I walked into Bowling Buddies at eight o’clock exactly.  Mark should’ve been getting ready to go on at any time.

The bowling alley was packed.  It was mostly high school-aged kids with the occasional family scattered about.  The clapping sound of the ball hitting the pins echoed through the building.  Fresh fries could be smelled cooking in the back and a slight odor of beer found its way into the masses from the bar area.

Over near the shoe rental counter, Mark was setting up for his performance.  He had a bar stool pulled up and was plucking at his acoustic guitar, getting it ready for action.  He had a small sign set up next to him that read ‘Mark Badger Live’.

I was proud of my brother.  He was doing what he loved.

“I’m going to go get a soda.  Want one?” Chuck asked me.

“Sure.”

Chuck scurried away to fetch some drinks and as I watched him go, I saw Mandy Lee walking by a rack of bowling balls with her friend Audrey.  Mandy was a sight for sore eyes.  I needed to talk to her and apologize. 

I made my way through the crowd of people and tapped her on the shoulder.  She turned around, and when she saw it was me, a smile snuck out before she quickly pulled it back.

“Can I talk to you?” I asked.

Audrey put her hand on Mandy’s shoulder and said “I’ll give you a few minutes.”  She left and Mandy and I were finally alone.

“What do you want?” she asked.

“I was a jerk.  You were right all along.  I let last years space adventure go to my head.  I apologize Mandy.”

She just stared at me for a minute and then smiled.

I continued: “On our mission yesterday, my self-centered attitude was solely responsible for Phil getting blown up.”

Mandy gasped and covered her mouth.  All I could see was her wide-open eyes.

“He’s OK,” I added, trying to calm her down.  “Nothing a mechanical arm and laser eye couldn’t fix.  We call him Philclops now.”

Mandy relaxed a bit.

“But it wasn’t until then that I realized that I can’t act that way.  It’s not fair to my friends.  It wasn’t fair to you.  Did you end up getting a detention?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I have to serve it after the Christmas break.”

“I’ll talk to Smidge about that.  Maybe we can work something out.”

“Thank you.”

There was a moment of typical high school awkward silence as we brushed our feet against the floor, digging for the next thing to say to break the unnerving silence. 

“How was the dance last night?” I asked.

“I didn’t go.”

I was a little surprised by her answer.  “Why not?”

“Because I guess you were the only one that I would have wanted to go with anyway.  But you were in space,” she said.  “How’d it go?”

 I smiled.  “Maybe I can tell you all about it over a bite at Father Peanuts tomorrow afternoon?”

“Sounds good.” 

Mandy and I were finally back on good terms. 

“Ladies and gentlemen.  May I have your attention?” a man’s voice crackled over the PA system.  “Welcome to Bowling Buddies.  Please give a warm welcome to tonight’s act, Mark Badger!”

Those who were listening and paying attention clapped.  Mandy and I looked back over at Mark who was now surrounded by a small group of people.  He started strumming his guitar and then leaned into the microphone. 

“This song is called, ‘Roses are Dead, Violets are Too’,” he said, flipping his black emo hair out of his eyes.  He started singing his new song and everyone seemed to dig it. 

Chuck finally spotted me in the crowd and brought me my soda.  “They didn’t have Mellow Yellow, so I got you a Mountain Dew.”

“That’ll do, I guess,” I said taking the cup.  “Want a sip?” I asked Mandy.  She smiled again and leaned in and took a sip from the straw.

As Mark continued to play his song, some guy came up to us.  He was wearing a blue blazer, had spiked hair with frosted tips, and a whole slew of necklaces around his neck. 

“That your brother up there?” he said to me.

“Uh, yeah,” I said.  “How did you know that?”

“You have the same nose,” the young, crazy dude said.  “Look, man, my name is Radical Ricky Rosa.  I run Ricky Rad Records in the city.  I’ve been creepily hanging around this bowling alley on Saturday nights when all the high school kids are here, trying to spot the talent.”

This guy was coming off a little weird. 

“I’ve seen this guy, your brother, this…Mark Badger so-to-speak, playing up there on several occasions.  He’s good – darn tootin’ good.  I want him to give me a call about a record deal.  Think you could pass along my card?”

“Sure…” I said, unsure of this Radical Ricky guy.  He reached into his blazer and pulled out a flashy business card with all his information on it. 

“Tell him, Radical Ricky Rosa was asking for him,” he said.  “I have a date with some local ‘talent’, if ya know what I mean, so I can’t stay until the end of his set.  Don’t let a brotha down!”

“I won’t,” I said.  Radical Ricky hopped away to the beat of the tunes and was gone.

“Wow,” Chuck said, “Phil’s going to be a published writer and Mark is going to be signing a record deal?”

“Phil’s going to be a writer?” Mandy asked surprised.

“Yup.  That Larmar kid, his father loved the Dragon Wind series.  He’s in!” I said.

“Um, Scout…” Mandy said, starting to pay close attention to my face.

“Huh?”

 “You have something on your face…” she said.

 I felt around my face for whatever it might have been.  I was touching my cheek and then my forehead.

“No, it’s under your nose.”

What could she have been talking about?  I felt under my nose and right above my lip, and my eyes widened.  I felt a single, strong and sharp hair.  A mustache hair…

“Aw heck yeah bro!” I shouted and jumped into the air with my fist high in the air hoping for a classic sitcom-style freeze-frame ending, as the credits would roll on my latest adventure.