promise is a promise, big guy."
"Butâ" I said.
"Go dance with your girlfriend," said Natalie. "I'll keep on patrolling."
"That's super!" said Shirley, seizing my arm.
"She's
not
my girlfriend," I protested as the chameleon dragged me off.
The dance floor was a big square surrounded by hay bales, over near the Wonders of the Western World tent. Chattering girls linked arms with boys who looked as nervous as garden slugs in a salt mine.
Bo Newt was so discombobulated, he tripped over his own tail and sprawled in the dirt. Onlookers clapped and cheered.
Coach Stroganoff, a massive groundhog in a dinky yellow hat, stood on a bale. He bellowed out the dance instructions:
"
Alley-oop left with your left hand,
Do-si-do with a baby grand,
Promenade and hinkey-doo,
Squeeze your partner, coochie-coo!
"
He might just as well have been reciting the times tables in ancient Greek, but a few couples actually made the same moves. Shirley tugged me into their midst.
"Isn't this
fun?
" she gushed.
"As jolly as a day at the dentist's office." I tried not to stub my toes.
As we whirled about, I spotted Johnny Ringo's mocking face in the crowd. When I looked again, it had vanished.
The second song started. Shirley grabbed my hands.
I said a silent prayer:
Please get me off this dance floor. Any distraction will do.
Five seconds later, my prayer was answered. And I realized I should have been more specific.
Honking madly, a small pink car squealed to a halt. The doors burst open, and a pack of characters popped out. Deranged characters with wild hair, painted faces, and red, rubbery noses.
No, not tax accountants.
Clowns.
16. Bad, Bad Leroy Clown
The onlookers cheered as a seemingly impossible number of clowns piled out of the pint-sized car. Even the cops at the tent ambled forward to see.
The jokers juggled eggs and footballs and firecrackers; they slipped on banana peels. They honked their shiny horns and wove in and out of the crowd, leering with their crazy clown faces and laughing their creepy clown laughs.
My palms got clammier than the New England seashore. My stomach clenched. "Urgh," I moaned, backing away.
"What's the matter?" asked Shirley.
"Hate ... clowns," I said through clenched teeth. "Must ... go."
"Chet?"
And I staggered away from their puke pink car and spooky, rubber-kneed antics. Pushing through the crowd, I stumbled blindly on.
Cool, dark shade fell over me, and I stopped. Blinking, I looked around my sanctuary: the big tent.
It was deserted. Everyone had left to see the painted weirdos, who were now shooting off fireworks.
I sagged against a tent pole and caught my breath. After a minute, I walked around stiff-legged, shaking it off.
Here were models of the pyramids, gleaming golden in the subdued light. There stood a big Aztec-looking stone disk, covered with carvings.
I wasn't sure what this odd mishmash had to do with a school fair, but it looked pretty cool. Toddling onward, I noticed a spangled cowboy hat, a life-size sculpture of an emerald cow, and copies of the
Mona Lisa
and other fancy-pants paintings.
And then, at the far end of the tent, I saw it: on a pedestal by itself, the Flubberjee Egg.
Wow.
Lit by a single spotlight, cradled on black velvet, the egg was bigger than my head and encrusted with enough rubies and sapphires to make an empress drool. It pulled me closer and closer.
Then a thought struck me: Why was it unprotected?
A flicker of movement caught my eye. I looked up. There was the glass case, hanging safely in the coils of ... a really,
really
big snake.
I gasped.
"Yesss," he hissed. "Beautiful, isssn't it?"
"Uh, yeah."
The giant boa had scaled the tent's steel frame. His massive body was as thick as a tuba and twice as twisty. His gaze was as cold as a polar bear's heinie.
The snake effortlessly held the glass case with his tail while his front half slithered down to just above my head.
I stepped back.
"Balthazar Boa, at your ssservice," he said. His
"Butâ" I said.
"Go dance with your girlfriend," said Natalie. "I'll keep on patrolling."
"That's super!" said Shirley, seizing my arm.
"She's
not
my girlfriend," I protested as the chameleon dragged me off.
The dance floor was a big square surrounded by hay bales, over near the Wonders of the Western World tent. Chattering girls linked arms with boys who looked as nervous as garden slugs in a salt mine.
Bo Newt was so discombobulated, he tripped over his own tail and sprawled in the dirt. Onlookers clapped and cheered.
Coach Stroganoff, a massive groundhog in a dinky yellow hat, stood on a bale. He bellowed out the dance instructions:
"
Alley-oop left with your left hand,
Do-si-do with a baby grand,
Promenade and hinkey-doo,
Squeeze your partner, coochie-coo!
"
He might just as well have been reciting the times tables in ancient Greek, but a few couples actually made the same moves. Shirley tugged me into their midst.
"Isn't this
fun?
" she gushed.
"As jolly as a day at the dentist's office." I tried not to stub my toes.
As we whirled about, I spotted Johnny Ringo's mocking face in the crowd. When I looked again, it had vanished.
The second song started. Shirley grabbed my hands.
I said a silent prayer:
Please get me off this dance floor. Any distraction will do.
Five seconds later, my prayer was answered. And I realized I should have been more specific.
Honking madly, a small pink car squealed to a halt. The doors burst open, and a pack of characters popped out. Deranged characters with wild hair, painted faces, and red, rubbery noses.
No, not tax accountants.
Clowns.
16. Bad, Bad Leroy Clown
The onlookers cheered as a seemingly impossible number of clowns piled out of the pint-sized car. Even the cops at the tent ambled forward to see.
The jokers juggled eggs and footballs and firecrackers; they slipped on banana peels. They honked their shiny horns and wove in and out of the crowd, leering with their crazy clown faces and laughing their creepy clown laughs.
My palms got clammier than the New England seashore. My stomach clenched. "Urgh," I moaned, backing away.
"What's the matter?" asked Shirley.
"Hate ... clowns," I said through clenched teeth. "Must ... go."
"Chet?"
And I staggered away from their puke pink car and spooky, rubber-kneed antics. Pushing through the crowd, I stumbled blindly on.
Cool, dark shade fell over me, and I stopped. Blinking, I looked around my sanctuary: the big tent.
It was deserted. Everyone had left to see the painted weirdos, who were now shooting off fireworks.
I sagged against a tent pole and caught my breath. After a minute, I walked around stiff-legged, shaking it off.
Here were models of the pyramids, gleaming golden in the subdued light. There stood a big Aztec-looking stone disk, covered with carvings.
I wasn't sure what this odd mishmash had to do with a school fair, but it looked pretty cool. Toddling onward, I noticed a spangled cowboy hat, a life-size sculpture of an emerald cow, and copies of the
Mona Lisa
and other fancy-pants paintings.
And then, at the far end of the tent, I saw it: on a pedestal by itself, the Flubberjee Egg.
Wow.
Lit by a single spotlight, cradled on black velvet, the egg was bigger than my head and encrusted with enough rubies and sapphires to make an empress drool. It pulled me closer and closer.
Then a thought struck me: Why was it unprotected?
A flicker of movement caught my eye. I looked up. There was the glass case, hanging safely in the coils of ... a really,
really
big snake.
I gasped.
"Yesss," he hissed. "Beautiful, isssn't it?"
"Uh, yeah."
The giant boa had scaled the tent's steel frame. His massive body was as thick as a tuba and twice as twisty. His gaze was as cold as a polar bear's heinie.
The snake effortlessly held the glass case with his tail while his front half slithered down to just above my head.
I stepped back.
"Balthazar Boa, at your ssservice," he said. His
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