After they had walked a while, Si, Meese, and Curly came to a clearing where there was a road. They headed down the road for a bit until they heard some sounds coming from up ahead.
Si said, “I bet that right up ahead is the greatest thing in the whole world, and it’s just waiting for us.”
“I think we should go crawl under a rock,” said Meese. “It’s no more than we deserve.”
“Why are you so negative all the time? Geez, it could start to get a Fry down, even a happy one like me,” replied Si.
“I’m not negative,” said Meese huffily, “I just know nothing but absolute destruction is waiting around the corner for me. So why deny it?”
“Five bucks says that right up there is something incredibly fun,” challenged Si.
“You don’t have five dollars. You don’t even have pockets,” Meese shot back.
Si bent down and picked something up. He showed them a five dollar bill. “Lucky is as lucky does. Okay, put your money where your pout is. Five bucks.”
“I don’t have any money,” wailed Meese. “And besides, I’d just lose.”
“Okay, I’ll bet you a buck and I’ll lend you the money.”
“Well, okay, but I’m sure this is going to be a total disaster.”
“Just be prepared to pay up when you lose.” He glanced over at Curly, who had stretched up high and was looking for the source of the sounds they were hearing.
“Right, Curly?” asked Si.
“Idon’tknow,Ihopeso,becauseIdon’twanttogetintotrouble,” mumbled Curly.
“See, even Curly agrees with me,” proclaimed Si happily. “Let’s go.”
They rounded the bend in the road. Off to the left was a baseball field. Two teams were playing and a bunch of people were in the stands watching and cheering.
“Oh, goody,” said Si. “A game. See, I told you. What fun. Come on!”
“ButFreddysaidnottoletanyoneseeus,” mumbled Curly.
“See, Curly wants to have fun too,” said Si. He dragged Meese along, and Curly reluctantly followed.
Right about the time they got to the field, the batter hit a long fly ball over the left field fence. Without thinking, Curly uncoiled, went up twenty feet in the air, and caught the ball. He looked apprehensively at Si and Meese.
“Great catch, Curly,” shouted Si. “Here, throw me the ball.”
Curly tossed it to him. Si climbed the fence and waved the ball in the air, bopping Meese in the nose with the ball twice.
“Give me that!” shouted Meese angrily, and he made a grab for the ball.
“Hey, okay, let’s play takeaway,” said Si gleefully.
“We’re attached to each other, you moron,” shot back Meese. “Even if I take it away, you’ll still have it.”
“Uhguysyoubetterlookwhat’shappening’cause-Idon’tthinkit’stoogood,” mumbled Curly frantically.
“What was that, Curly?” asked Si.
“We’reinbigtrouble!” Curly mumbled, and he pointed at something.
Si and Meese stopped fighting over the ball and looked where Curly was pointing. All the baseball players and all the people in the stands were running at them, and they didn’t look very happy. In fact, they looked like they might do the Fries bodily harm if they could just get to them.
Meese did the only thing he could think of. He started to bawl.
“No time for crying. Happy foot, don’t fail me now,” yelped Si as he tossed the ball to Curly and took off running, pulling Meese along.
Curly caught the ball and started to run after Si and Meese. But then he saw another person running at him. He didn’t recognize that it was Howie. He uncoiled to his full height, turned, and ran past all the people coming at him.
Astonished, the crowd turned and chased him. Curly ran around the bases and the crowd followed. But he was so fast that he kept passing them. But he did so politely and always said, “Excusemepardonmecomingthroughthanks,” and tipped his ball cap to the ladies.
Finally the people finally ran out of breath and stopped. Curly turned to face the crowd.
“Give me the ball,” said one of the ballplayers.
“Yeah, throw it here,” called out another player.
“No, give it to me,” shouted a kid in the crowd.
Confused, Curly threw the ball way, way up in the air. When it came back down it was headed right for the crowd.
“I’ve got it!” yelled one ballplayer.
But another cried out, “No, I’ve got it!”
Then another and another and another screamed, “No, I’ve got the ball!”
All of the ballplayers collided with each other and collapsed in a big pile. Then the fans started after the ball and smacked into each other. By the time the ball landed, there was no one left standing to catch it.
Meanwhile, Howie had reached Curly, grabbed him by the hand, and they both disappeared into the woods. When the crowd untangled themselves, they were just left scratching their heads, wondering if they all had really just seen what they thought they had.
Back in the woods, Howie, Si, Meese, and Curly caught their breath.
“So what happened back there, Curly?” asked Howie.
Motioning with his hands, Curly mumbled, “Iranaroundincirclesuntiltheygottiredandthen.” He drew in a breath, and continued, “Ithrewtheballandtheyalltriedtocatchitand,” he took another breath,“theyallfelldownandandIranawayandhereIam.”
“That’s what I like about you, Curly, you’re a Fry of few words,” said Si.
Meese reached over and grabbed the five dollars out of Si’s hand.
“What are you doing?” cried Si.
“I won the bet.”
“But it was only for a dollar.”
“We almost got killed. That’s worth at least five bucks.”
“But that was a lot of fun back there! You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”
“Oh, shut up, mister happy foot!” snapped Meese.
“Come on, guys,” interrupted Howie, “we need to find Freddy!”
CHAPTER8
As Wally and Ziggy headed down the trail, Wally stopped and sniffed the air.
“Blueberries,” he said after a long whiff. “And strawberries. And now I smell raspberries, and blackberries, and pumpkin, and apple and -”
Ziggy interrupted. “Look up there.” Situated in a big field was a large brick building with twin chimneys out of which smoke was pouring.
“It’s the Pookesville Pie Factory,” observed Ziggy, pointing at the sign over the door.
Wally almost fainted. “Pies! That’s my favorite finger food. Come on, Ziggy.”
“Wait a minute. We came into the woods to hide. Freddy said not to let anyone see us. We can’t go in there.”
“Not to worry, little papoosie, it’s, uh, lunch-time, so everybody will be out eating.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s a food thing – you’ll just have to trust me. Come on.”
Wally put Ziggy on his broad shoulders and sped toward the building. They slipped in the back door and looked around. Wally’s big eyes grew even larger. The room was as large as a football field. There were big ovens at one end and lots of tables set up on the floor. And on each table there were dozens of different pies.
“Quick, Ziggy, pinch me, I must be dreaming,” said Wally. Ziggy did as he was told. “Ouch,” yelped Wally. “See, I told you, nobody here. All right, little Fry guy, you wait here while old Wally scouts out the place.”
“Remember, Wally, those pies don’t belong to us, so don’t eat them.”
“Eat them! Ziggy, what kind of Fry do you think I am?”
“A big, hungry one.”
“Oh, I smell gooseberry.”
Ziggy hid in the corner while Wally sneaked – to the extent that a large purple Fry can actually sneak anywhere – up to one of the tables and took a long sniff.
“Pumpkin,” he said in a long, hungry moan. “My ninth favorite pie of all time. I could eat it all day.” He started to stick his plump finger in one of the pies when he saw Ziggy staring at him.