My Life as a Computer Cockroach by Bill Myers Page B

staying calm. Although not as fanatical as Coach, Dad had always said we should be prepared for something like this, and for the most part we were.
    When we were sure we weren’t needed, Wall Street, Opera, and I raced upstairs to my room. Whatever Ol’ Betsy and I had done, it was important to undo it as soon as possible. But how?
    We quickly turned on my computer and plugged it into the phone line, hoping it still worked. Sure enough it did. But the screen had no sooner come up than a message began flashing across it:
    URGENT
URGENT
URGENT
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Wall Street asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said.
    â€œIt must be another computer glitch.”
    â€œI don’t think so,” I said. “It didn’t come on the screen until we plugged into the phone line.”
    â€œHow can it work? Everything’s been wiped clean—even the phone lines!”
    â€œI don’t know!”
    Suddenly, there was a long, loud
    BEEP
    followed by more letters. All three of us leaned forward to read the screen as the words quickly formed:
    TO: GOVERNOR WALLY McDOOGLE
    FROM:THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES
    I gasped. Wall Street gasped. Opera gasped. Then, looking for something else to do, we decided to keep reading.
    WE HAVE ISOLATED THE GLOBAL CHAOS
TO THIS LOCATION.YOU HAVE EXACTLY
TEN MINUTES TO CEASE YOUR
AGGRESSION. IF YOU DO NOT CEASE AND
DESIST, WE WILL CONSIDER YOUR
ACTIONS AN ACT OF WAR UPON THE
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA AND WE WILL
RESPOND SWIFTLY AND APPROPRIATELY.
THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING,
GOVERNOR. I REPEAT, THIS IS YOUR
FINAL WARNING.
    HAVE A NICE DAY,
    THE PRES.
    All three of us stared at the screen a good minute. Finally, Opera asked a question that wasn’t exactly on any of our minds: “I thought you said your parents had chips.”
    I ignored him and turned to Wall Street. “If all the phone lines are down, how can the President e-mail us?”
    She shrugged. “I guess when it comes to national emergencies, he’s got ways.”
    â€œBut what does he mean when he says they’ll respond ‘swiftly and appropriately’ ?”
    Wall Street took a deep breath and slowly answered. “I think the swiftly part means he’ll be declaring war on us.”
    I slowly nodded. “And the appropriately part?”
    â€œIt means they’ll be bombing us to smithereens.”
    I let out a long, low sigh and mumbled, “I just hate it when this type of stuff happens.”
    As usual, Wall Street and I had like the longest debate over what to do. She wanted to keep trying to fix things by using Ol’ Betsy’s powers, and I just wanted to call it quits.
    â€œLook,” I said, “this whole thing started by trying to cheat with our grades.”
    â€œWhich are still,” Wall Street happily pointed out, “what we changed them to.”
    â€œWhat difference does that make now?!” I shouted.
    â€œI’m just trying to look on the bright side.”
    â€œThe bright side? The bright side!? The President of the United States is about to declare war on my house, and you want me to look on the bright side?!”
    â€œActually,” Opera said as he began looking under my pillow, “I don’t think the President can legally do that.”
    â€œWhy not?” I asked.
    Now he was checking between my blankets. “To declare war on a foreign country, I think he has to get Congress to vote on it or something.”
    â€œWe’re not a foreign country,” I said. Now he dropped to his knees and stuck his head under my bed. “Opera, what are you doing?”
    â€œDon’t you ever like eat popcorn and chips and stuff in bed?” he asked as he started rummaging around underneath. “You musta dropped crumbs around here somewhere. I mean everybody drops—ah, here we go.”
    crunch . . . crunch . . . crunch
    Even though it was faint, I could still hear the muffled munching