Hot Dog and Bob: Adventure 4 (5 page)

“Forget it, kid,” said Hot Dog. “Bargaining ain’t gonna bring her back—
I am
!”

“What?” I asked, hopeful and doubtful at the same time. “Did you just say what I think you just said?”

Hot Dog pushed a tiny shiny white bun button that I’d never seen him use before.

“It’s time,” he announced, “for the
flakes of life
!”

It was amazing! The most magical sparkling white crystals fell from his bun like snowflakes from the sky.

“Wow!” I said. “It’s so beautiful!”

“I know,” Hot Dog agreed. “It’s sparkly donkey dandruff.”

“Wait a minute!” I said. “My best friend in the entire world is totally dead, and you’re covering her with donkey dandruff?”

But that was the last complaint Hot Dog heard out of my mouth. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but the flakes of life actually worked! Clementine wiggled her nose, opened her eyes, stood up and sneezed all over me!

“Clementine!” I said, throwing my arms around her, “you’re alive!”

“Of course I’m alive,” she said, dusting off the donkey dandruff. “What in the world is this stuff all over me?”

“No time for small talk, little lady,” Hot Dog said, pointing across the room. “We got a little business to take care of first!”

We knew Mr. G. was smart. We just didn’t know how smart. In the time it took Hot Dog to bring Clementine back to life, Mr. G. had built a rocket ship. It was big, it was bad, and it was pointing right at the patched-up ceiling!

Mr. G. was sitting in the pilot’s seat, and guess who was sitting in the chair next to him? Mr. G. rolled down the cockpit window and said,

Then he revved up his engines and waved good-bye to us.

“Hmm, no more Barfalot?” said Clementine. “I don’t think I have a problem with that. How about you, Bob?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” I said. “We get rid of the rhyming reptile
and
the bully at the same time? That works for me!”

“Not so fast!” said Hot Dog. “The Big Bun sent me on this mission to rescue and protect
all
human beings,
including
the dirty, rotten meanies! I’m sorry to say this, Mr. G., but your new best friend’s stayin’ here with me!”

“Yeah! That’s right!” Pigburt chimed in. “Nobody steals Barfalot!”

“Yeah! That’s right!” Slugburt repeated. “Nobody steals Barfalot!”

I have to admit I was impressed. Barfalot’s brainless brothers scrambled up the side of the rocket ship, squeezed through the open window and—well, to be honest, that was pretty much the end of the impressive part. Once they made it into the cockpit, Mr. G. just rolled up his window, and instead of one new friend, now he had three.

Hot Dog put his hands up to his mouth, megaphone style, and yelled, “Release the humans! I repeat, release the humans!”

“Oh, come on, Hot Dog,” Clementine begged. “Can’t we please just let him keep them? I mean, just think how much better off this world would be without those terrible troublemaking triplets!”

“Now I know you don’t really mean that, Miss Clementine,” said Hot Dog. “I know that you know that there’s a little bit o’ good in each and every one of us!”

“I do?” Clementine asked.

“Sure you do!” said Hot Dog. “Why else do you think the Big Bun chose you to be my Earth partner’s partner?”

“She
chose
me?” asked Clementine. “You mean it’s not just some terrible coincidence that I keep getting mixed up in all of this freaky alien stuff?”

“Trust me, darlin’!” said Hot Dog. “When it comes to the Big Bun, there are no coincidences! Now come on, you two! Let’s make this wrong a
right
!”

Clementine and I still weren’t a hundred percent convinced. But we couldn’t let Hot Dog down.

“Okay, I guess I’m in,” sighed Clementine.

“Me, too,” I said. “But you’d better hurry up and tell us the plan before they get away!”

“Tell you the
plant
?” Hot Dog asked. “Well, I never had much of a green thumb myself, but I like lookin’ at a nice plant as much as the next
guy—leafy plants, flowery plants, poky plants. And, hey—speakin’ of plants, you think you got some good-lookin’ plants here on
this
planet? You should see some of the plants we got growin’ up there on Dogzalot!”

“What in the world is he talking about?” asked Clementine. “Am I missing something here?”

“Not
plant
!” I yelled at Hot Dog. “
Plan
! They’re getting away! We need to stop them! You have to tell us the
plan
!”

“Oh! The plan!” Hot Dog exclaimed. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“Oh, thank goodness!” sighed Clementine. “You had me pretty worried for a minute there, Hot Dog!”

“Yes siree, Bobby Boy,” Hot Dog rambled on. “We need a plan! That’s for sure! Be prepared, I always say! Why do you think I always carry my umbrella around? Because I’m prepared— that’s why!”

Then he pulled an umbrella out of his bun and started singing and dancing like he was the star of his very own Broadway musical:

Up until then Hot Dog had been acting fairly normal (for a hot dog, that is). And with everything else that was going on, I’d forgotten all about his memory problem. The first time
I met Hot Dog, he told me how it happened. He’d bumped his head on Rocky Rock Monster’s fists of granite. That was
supposedly
why the Big Bun beamed Hot Dog into my lunch box in the first place. Since I had a pretty good memory and all, I was chosen to be Hot Dog’s partner here on Earth—just until his memory got better. Which, judging from the umbrella act, was not happening anytime soon.

So there we were, trapped underground with our dancing hot dog, our dazed and confused classmates and a rocket ship that had to be stopped.

“Well,” I said to Clementine, “I guess it’s up to you and me.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Clementine yelled at me.

“Probably,” I answered. “Come on, let’s go!”