Henry Rider and the NuYu Prescription

Chapter Three

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Chapter Three

Imagine, if you will, that you are a seven foot tall zit. A seven foot tall zit that decided one day to detach itself from the face of whatever teenage Godzilla you were born on, paint yourself up like a member of KISS, and go visit the local comedy club. You were having a great time, squeezing your gooshy zit body under the stage and eating all the laughter that came from the audience. Who knows, maybe somebody even dropped a moldy bag of Cheetos down there for ambitious young pimples like you to find.

But then suddenly everything goes quiet. And hot. Like, really freaking hot. So you come out of your hiding spot to find that—Gasp! Horror!—the comedy club is on fire! And not only that, but there's this totally awesome looking girl standing there with a giant hammer ready to smash your brain into death pudding. You wonder what happened to all the lovely laughing people—because critical thinking isn't really a giant zit's strong point, is it?—when suddenly you smell it.

ALL THE DANG LAUGHTER IN THE WORLD!

Your zitty little eyes zero in on a dweeby, but still kinda cute, young man with a sparkly hammer in his hands. And by the whoopie cushion in the sky, he's glowing like he's just swallowed the freaking Rockefeller Center Christmas tree!

So what's a giant zit who's just had its day ruined to do?

If you answered, "Lasso the glowing kid with my freakishly long zit tongue," then congratulations. You win, I dunno, a tube of toothpaste.

"Gross!" Ethan yelled, digging in his heels as it began to reel him in. "Henry, a little help here?"

"What's the magic word?" I asked.

He slid forward a few feet. "Really? You think now's the time for jokes?"

"You've got about fifteen more feet before you're in any real danger."

He stubbornly tried to point his spellhammer at the maiam, but his arms were pinned firmly to his sides.

"Hey, Ethan," I said with a grin, "you look a little...tongue tied!"

"Just get it off of me, will you?"

I sighed. "Fine, fine. Grouchypants."

Raising Splatsy above my head, I slammed her down onto the maiam's tongue. It howled in pain and slurped it back into its mouth, spinning Ethan around and around before launching him across the club like an old fashioned top.

He stopped half a foot from the fire, teetered drunkenly, and fell toward—

"NO!" I yelled, powering up my shoes with magic and blasting toward him. I managed to grab him by the shirt before he did a belly flop right into the flames.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" he demanded as I heaved him back to safety. "Because there are easier ways to—"

The zit maiam's tongue clobbered me from behind, and I went flying across the club before I could ask what those easier ways were. Luckily, I was knocked away from the fire, so a table to the face was all the damage I took. Somehow, I managed to keep my grip on Splatsy, and I used her to hoist myself back to my feet. Ears ringing and head throbbing, I dug my inhaler out. A quick puff sent laughter surging through my body again, healing my wounds and chasing away the exhaustion that came from using too much magic.

"Thanks, Grandpa Teddy," I whispered, putting it back in my pocket.

With me out of the way, there was nothing between the maiam and Ethan. Ethan took a step back, the look on his face telling me he was half a second from panicking. I've never met a human who wasn't terrified of maiams—in fact, I'm pretty sure an instinctive fear of maiams, buried so deep they don't even know what maiams are, is why so many people are afraid of clowns.