Part 15 (1/2)
”Marty, you nincomp.o.o.p!”
Laboratory of the Bed Bugs, Department of Sleep, The Seems Seymour the Bed Bug was fuming.
”What's it gonna take for you to mix a real Nightmare?”
Marty was crushed. Though the beta test for YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE had gone swimmingly ( judging by the gesticulations of the unconscious Taster in the chair), the Scaredy Cat said otherwise. had gone swimmingly ( judging by the gesticulations of the unconscious Taster in the chair), the Scaredy Cat said otherwise.
”But it made it to 'White Knuckles' . . .”
”White Knuckles! If I wanted White Knuckles, I'd take MONSTER IN THE CLOSET MONSTER IN THE CLOSET for the thirty-fourth time!” for the thirty-fourth time!”
Marty and the other Bed Bugs in the room dropped their heads in shame.
”You heard what the VP said-'If you don't deliver me a Nightmare that makes it to ”Curled Up in the Fetal Position and Crying for Mommy,” you're out and I'm bringing in Hubie's team.' ”
”Hubie?” cried the sweaty-s.h.i.+rted Dr. Glorp. ”Hubie couldn't mix a Nightmare if it hit him on the head!”
”Don't you think I know that?” Seymour threw an empty beaker at his colleague, which shattered on the wall. ”Now go get me OLD FAITHFUL OLD FAITHFUL before this imbecile wakes up!” before this imbecile wakes up!”
In the chair before them, Becker Drane had finally started to stir. It had been a horrible Dream, worthy of its name, and he was still not free from its devastating spell.
”It's not my fault . . . Mom, Dad . . . we have to get to the . . . Benjamin . . .”
”Don't worry, munchkin. I'm going to take you far, far away from all this.” Seymour chuckled and leaned in to the semiconscious Fixer. ”To someplace much, much worse.”
Just then, Glorp returned with a dusty old decanter.
”I don't understand, Seymour. I thought we had retired OLD FAITHFUL. OLD FAITHFUL.”
”I'm sick of these new-agey Nightmares. The cla.s.sics are the cla.s.sics for a reason!” Seymour dangled the last remaining milliliter of YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE over the crusty container. ”And with one drop of this . . .” over the crusty container. ”And with one drop of this . . .”
The instant the two Nightmares combined, the liquid began to bubble and froth.
”. . . what's old becomes new!”
Seymour raised the vial over his head, triumphant, and his partners roared with delight.
”Someone call an exterminator?”
The Bed Bugs whirled around to see a tall, lanky Seemsian come flying into the room. His body was draped from head to toe in Tools, and stamped on his chest was the block letter ”B,” which he wore as proudly as all the Briefers who were ever named Frye.
”Now get your hands off my Fixer,” Simly demanded, ”or else!”
The Bed Bugs stood stunned for a second before Seymour broke into a yellow-toothed grin.
”This it too good to be true! Two Tasters in one day.”
The others grabbed their nets and prepared to seize their second victim, but Simly was more than ready. He pulled a thin (ozone-friendly) aerosol canister off his Utility Belt and sprayed it in their faces. The Bed Bugs immediately began to cough and choke and fall on the floor, writhing about in agony. Simly made sure to soak each one a second time, then unstrapped his dazed compatriot.
”Becker! Becker! Are you okay?”
A quick slap to the face seemed to bring the Fixer back to this reality.
”Simly! What's-what's happening?”
”I'm trying to get you out of here!”
”But the Ripple Effect . . . it's tearing The World apart!”
”It was just a bad dream, Becker. There hasn't been any Ripple Effect. At least not yet!”
Becker didn't believe him at first-it was all so fresh in his mind-but as the truth of Simly's words rang home, his mind and body filled with newfound strength. There was still time to do his job and do it right.
”Now hurry up, sir,” said Simly, pulling free the last of the straps. ”This stuff wears off after a couple minutes.”
”What did you use on those guys?”
”Something my grandpa gave me when he found out I was going to Sleep.”
He held up the can, which had a picture of a guy in a lab-coat inside a circle, with a red line through it.
”Bed Bug Repellent!” shouted Seymour, dragging himself off the floor and gasping for air. ”Very clever indeed.”
”But not clever enough!” issued Marty, color flooding back into his face. In fact, all four Bed Bugs had started to shake off the effects. ”That might have worked back in Milton Frye's day, but we've spent the last twenty years building up a resistance to his pathetic concoction!”
”Um . . .” Simly was at a loss for the first time that night. ”I'm all out of ideas, boss.”
Becker normally would have busted out his Speed Demons at a time like this, but in all the hurry of his first Mission, he'd left them in the closet right next to his Chuck Taylor's. With just his regular kicks on and the Bed Bugs blocking each and every exit, there was only one way left to go.
”Dude, put on your Concrete Galoshes.”
”Why? What's that gonna do?”
”Just do it.”
Snorchestral Chamber, Department of Sleep, The Seems Directly below the Chamber of Horrors, on the eighth floor of the department, was a packed auditorium, complete with band sh.e.l.l, red velvet seating, and balcony boxes for the Powers That Be. The same legendary ensemble had sold out the show every night since the beginning of Time, and tonight was no exception.
”Shhh!”
In the fourth row, the Snoozemaster shoved his way past several annoyed patrons to get to seats 4D and 4E.