country-western song soundsâfull of twang and heartbreak and bad fashion choices. My partner sported a huge cowboy hat, red kerchief, and a piece of hay in her beak.
"Howdy, pilgrim!" she said, in a fair imitation of John Wayne.
"What happened here?" I said. "An accident in a farmer factory?"
Natalie tipped her hat. "Just showin' some school spirit, stranger. Hey, that reminds me: Knock, knock."
"Natalie, we don't have time for this now."
"Knock, knock." She stared at me.
"Oh, all right," I said. "Who's there?"
"Amarillo."
I sighed. "Amarillo who?"
"Amarillo-fashioned cowboy!" She cackled. "Get it?
Real old-fashioned?
"
"I get it. Now can we get out of here?"
Natalie tossed her hay aside. "Let's mosey, podnuh."
By this time, the school was filling up with kids and parents, many of whom were dressed like Natalie. I winced. Private eyes and cowpokes don't mix.
The playground had a strange Wild-Bill-Hickok-Meets-Barnum-and-Bailey feel. Hay bales and corrals stood cheek by jowl with the Tilt-A-Whirl and Whack-A-Worm booths. Jugglers and stilt walkers competed with lasso twirlers and pony wranglers. And over by the trees, a huge circus tent held (according to its banner) the Wonders of the Western World.
Two off-duty policemen in cowboy duds stood by its door. They were about as inconspicuous as a scorpion on a shortcake. (But not nearly as tasty.)
I nudged Natalie. "See the cops?"
"How can you tell?" she asked.
"Real cowboys don't carry billy clubs and walkie-talkies."
She fluffed her feathers. "You get the feeling Mr. Zero is worried about the thief striking again? Maybe going after the Flubberjee Egg?"
"Just a little, yeah."
It was encouraging to know how much faith our principal had in us.
Natalie and I walked the circuit, keeping an eye peeled for Luz Lipps, Percy the rattlesnake, and any other suspicious characters.
"Notice anything?" said Natalie.
"You're not the only one dressed like Hopalong McHayseed?"
"Nope," she said. "No clowns."
I breathed a silent sigh of relief.
As we passed the kissing booth, a mouse named Frenchy LaTrine called out.
"Hey, Chet!" she said, toying with her ribbon. "Want to buy a smooch?"
I stepped back. "
Eew.
You couldn't
pay
me to pucker up."
"It's for a good cause." She batted her fudge brown eyes at me.
"I've got a better one," I said. "Avoiding your cooties."
Natalie snickered. We rounded a group of kids, and I bumped right into Johnny Ringo.
"Excuse you, you didn't see me," I said.
"Watch it, buster," growled the sleek raccoon.
Rolf the wolverine stood behind him, flexing his muscles. "You like I should bimp 'em, boss?"
Ringo straightened his vest. "Nah, we'll settle their hash later."
"What are
you
up to?" said Natalie.
"It's a free country," said the raccoon. "I'm just being me."
I eyed him and his pet wolverine. "That's what I'm afraid of."
"I got my ticket, amigo," Johnny said, smiling. "I'm gonna go see the wonders just like everyone else. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."
I hate it when the bad guys are right.
Satisfying myself with a parting sneer, I turned to go. Just then, wild fiddle music burst from speakers mounted on poles. Although it sounded to me like the death throes of a bobcat with laryngitis, the crowd seemed excited.
Coach Stroganoff's voice boomed through the speakers. "Come on over to the Hens' Hoedown, cowpokes! It's chickies' choice; time to shake your tail feathers!"
Natalie looked over at me. "
Chickies
" choice? Coach needs some lessons in how to talk about girls."
"That's not all he needs," I said. "Never mind, we've got bigger bugs to fry."
But before I could take ten steps, someone grabbed my tail.
"Easy on the merchandise," I said. "That thing comes off."
"Where are you going?" said Shirley Chameleon. "We have a dance date, remember?"
I turned and reclaimed my tail. "I must have been dreaming," I said. "Or insane."
"But you
promised,
" said Shirley with a pout.
Natalie leaned over my shoulder. "A
"Howdy, pilgrim!" she said, in a fair imitation of John Wayne.
"What happened here?" I said. "An accident in a farmer factory?"
Natalie tipped her hat. "Just showin' some school spirit, stranger. Hey, that reminds me: Knock, knock."
"Natalie, we don't have time for this now."
"Knock, knock." She stared at me.
"Oh, all right," I said. "Who's there?"
"Amarillo."
I sighed. "Amarillo who?"
"Amarillo-fashioned cowboy!" She cackled. "Get it?
Real old-fashioned?
"
"I get it. Now can we get out of here?"
Natalie tossed her hay aside. "Let's mosey, podnuh."
By this time, the school was filling up with kids and parents, many of whom were dressed like Natalie. I winced. Private eyes and cowpokes don't mix.
The playground had a strange Wild-Bill-Hickok-Meets-Barnum-and-Bailey feel. Hay bales and corrals stood cheek by jowl with the Tilt-A-Whirl and Whack-A-Worm booths. Jugglers and stilt walkers competed with lasso twirlers and pony wranglers. And over by the trees, a huge circus tent held (according to its banner) the Wonders of the Western World.
Two off-duty policemen in cowboy duds stood by its door. They were about as inconspicuous as a scorpion on a shortcake. (But not nearly as tasty.)
I nudged Natalie. "See the cops?"
"How can you tell?" she asked.
"Real cowboys don't carry billy clubs and walkie-talkies."
She fluffed her feathers. "You get the feeling Mr. Zero is worried about the thief striking again? Maybe going after the Flubberjee Egg?"
"Just a little, yeah."
It was encouraging to know how much faith our principal had in us.
Natalie and I walked the circuit, keeping an eye peeled for Luz Lipps, Percy the rattlesnake, and any other suspicious characters.
"Notice anything?" said Natalie.
"You're not the only one dressed like Hopalong McHayseed?"
"Nope," she said. "No clowns."
I breathed a silent sigh of relief.
As we passed the kissing booth, a mouse named Frenchy LaTrine called out.
"Hey, Chet!" she said, toying with her ribbon. "Want to buy a smooch?"
I stepped back. "
Eew.
You couldn't
pay
me to pucker up."
"It's for a good cause." She batted her fudge brown eyes at me.
"I've got a better one," I said. "Avoiding your cooties."
Natalie snickered. We rounded a group of kids, and I bumped right into Johnny Ringo.
"Excuse you, you didn't see me," I said.
"Watch it, buster," growled the sleek raccoon.
Rolf the wolverine stood behind him, flexing his muscles. "You like I should bimp 'em, boss?"
Ringo straightened his vest. "Nah, we'll settle their hash later."
"What are
you
up to?" said Natalie.
"It's a free country," said the raccoon. "I'm just being me."
I eyed him and his pet wolverine. "That's what I'm afraid of."
"I got my ticket, amigo," Johnny said, smiling. "I'm gonna go see the wonders just like everyone else. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."
I hate it when the bad guys are right.
Satisfying myself with a parting sneer, I turned to go. Just then, wild fiddle music burst from speakers mounted on poles. Although it sounded to me like the death throes of a bobcat with laryngitis, the crowd seemed excited.
Coach Stroganoff's voice boomed through the speakers. "Come on over to the Hens' Hoedown, cowpokes! It's chickies' choice; time to shake your tail feathers!"
Natalie looked over at me. "
Chickies
" choice? Coach needs some lessons in how to talk about girls."
"That's not all he needs," I said. "Never mind, we've got bigger bugs to fry."
But before I could take ten steps, someone grabbed my tail.
"Easy on the merchandise," I said. "That thing comes off."
"Where are you going?" said Shirley Chameleon. "We have a dance date, remember?"
I turned and reclaimed my tail. "I must have been dreaming," I said. "Or insane."
"But you
promised,
" said Shirley with a pout.
Natalie leaned over my shoulder. "A
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