It was morning in Tootville and the usual slow routine of the Tootville police force had been sadly interrupted. One of their own had fallen. Two police cars and an ambulance were parked on the Tootville Ridge. Captain McBust, a vigorous man in his late forties, stood with several police officers. The captain held a pair of binoculars in one hand. They were gathered around a body on a stretcher which had been draped with a sheet. They awaited the order to load the stretcher into the ambulance. The entire area around the boulder had been cordoned off.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Captain McBust asked one of the policemen.
“I can’t believe that a person could do so much damage. It had to be the work of a bear,” responded the officer.
“You know as well as I do that there are no bears in this area,” said the captain.
A detective, investigating near the boulder, spotted something and began to wave excitedly. “Captain, over here!”
Captain McBust walked over to the detective and looked down at several shoeprints in red mud. “It looks like our bear wore tennis shoes. I’ll tell you one thing. I’ll get this guy if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Because you loved Officer Down like a brother?” asked the detective, ready to get sentimental.
“Cripes no. Because he was my bowling partner.” Captain McBust turned to the policeman standing next to the stretcher. “All right!” he said in a commanding voice. “Load him up!” He turned back to the detective. “Get me the man with the plaster. We need some casts made of these tracks.”
The officers finished loading the body reverently into the ambulance. One of them shut the back door and the vehicle started the trip down the trail toward town.
___
In the Dinkle living room, Timmy sat three feet in front of the television, watching the Mister Delbert show. Wimpy looking Mister Delbert stepped through the front door into the living room of his home, took off his jacket, and hung it up in a small closet to the accompaniment of piano music. Then he took a sweater out of the closet and put it on. Mister Delbert closed the closet door and turned to face the camera. “Hello, neighbor,” he said with his most friendly smile. “I’m Mister Delbert. Can you say Delbert? I thought you could. Do you remember Black Bart, our mean neighbor? Today we’re going to make friends with him. Come on, neighbor. Let’s go over to Black Bart’s house.”
The music began to play once again as Mister Delbert walked out the front door. The piano music stopped and Mister Delbert knocked on the door of his neighbor’s dilapidated old shack. Black Bart, a huge, mean-looking man opened the door and stared out at Mister Delbert. “Is dat you again, Delbert? I thought I tole you ta stop botherin me.”
“Hello, neighbor,” said Mister Delbert in his most cheerful voice. “The boys and girls came with me to see you today. We want to make friends.”
“I don’t see no boys and girls,” said Black Bart in a menacing voice. “You’re crazy, Delbert. Now get outta here before I punch you in the nose.”
“That’s very neighborly of you, neighbor,” said Mister Delbert in a friendly way. “I remember the time you slapped me silly, like this.” Mister Delbert reached through the doorway, grabbed Black Bart and slapped him several times in the face.
“Ow! Ooh! Ouch!” yelled Black Bart.
“I also remember the time you smashed me with your baseball bat, like this,” said Mister Delbert in his most neighborly manner. He grabbed a baseball bat leaning against the house and smashed Black Bart repeatedly as he stood inside his humble home.
“Ooh! Ow! No!” yelled Black Bart.
“And the time you ripped off my clothes, like this,” continued Mister Delbert. He reached inside the doorway and ripped Black Bart’s shirt to shreds.
“Hold it, Delbert! Hold it!” said Black Bart. “Say, I’m beginning to like your style. Maybe we can be friends, after all.” The piano music began to play once again.
Mr. Dinkle poked his head into the living room where Timmy was engrossed in the show. “Timmy, turn that thing off and go wake up your brother. He’ll be late for school. Then go feed the dog.”
Upstairs, Tommy, with his clothes on, was lying curled up on top of the blanket on his bed. He had gone to sleep without having pulled down the covers. He was still wearing his filthy tennis shoes. The mud had dried during the night. Timmy banged loudly on Tommy’s bedroom door. He was angry at not being able to watch his show and also at having to do Tommy’s chore of feeding Watson. “Wake up, stupid!” he called.
Tommy moaned and, mustering all his strength, managed to sit up on the bed. As he did so, he smacked his face into the grav belt, which had been hanging motionlessly in the air above him. Tommy pulled the grav belt away from his face and stared at it. “So it wasn’t just a dream,” he said in a low voice.
Downstairs, the rest of the family sat down for breakfast. “Are we ready for another wonderful day?” Mr. Dinkle asked Tammy and Timmy. He was in a very cheerful mood. He had been liberated from his pesky paperwork and was looking forward to being free to focus on making a lot of money in the next few hours at the used car lot.
Mrs. Dinkle stared at her husband in pleased surprise. “My, aren’t we in a good humor this morning?” she said. “Which reminds me, how did the person I sent to see you work out?”
“I hired her,” Mr. Dinkle replied with a big smile on his face. “She’s good, like you said she would be. A bit overbearing, but I can handle that.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” responded Mrs. Dinkle, secretly relieved at her success. “I’m so glad that everything has worked out.”
At this moment Tommy entered the kitchen. He was wearing the grav belt and the water activated space bomb on the same clothes that he slept in, which were now somewhat wrinkled. The detectacles adorned his face, making him look very bug-eyed, and the laser gun was stuffed into its holster which hung at his side. The mud on Tommy’s tennis shoes had stained them but at least they no longer squished when he walked.
“What on earth are you doing down here dressed like that?” Mr. Dinkle looked at his son in amazement.
“It’s career day at school, Dad,” said Tommy. “We’re supposed to dress up in a costume representing our chosen profession.”
“And just what are you supposed to be dressed in a costume like that?” Mrs. Dinkle joined in.
“A DORK,” responded Tommy, somewhat perturbed that his parents even had to ask.
“I should have known,” Tammy said, sadly staring at her brother. “I’ll never live this down.”
Tommy’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, hoping it was Linda, but the caller ID said private. “Hello?” he said.
“Thomas? Thomas Dinkle?” came a low, rasping voice.
“Yes,” said Tommy. Who is this?”
Inside the teacher’s lounge at Tootville High School, the alien shapeshifter grasped the phone with his huge, clawed hand. “I know you are with Zon,” he said. “I will get you before you get me.” The shapeshifter hung up the phone. Tommy put his cell phone back in his pocket and smiled weakly at his family. “Wrong number. Well, I gotta go,” he said quickly, before anyone could ask any questions. “Can’t be late for school.” He shot out the back door, leaving his family staring silently after him.
Tommy pedaled down the sidewalk on his mangled bicycle with Watson in the basket on the front. The going was somewhat slow due to the condition of the bike. “We’re in big trouble, Watson,” he said to his dog. “Somehow that thing knows we’re after it. We need to find it before it finds us. I think the best thing we can do right now is head for the police station.”
It took about ten minutes of pedaling on the mangled bike to get to the police station. When they arrived, Tommy hopped off his bike and leaned it against the front wall of the building. Watson jumped down from the basket. “Wait here, Watson,” Tommy said to his dog. “I’ll be right back.”
Inside the police station, a determined-looking policeman opened the bottom half of the Dutch door that led into Captain McBust’s office and stepped inside. “I’ve got him this time, Captain,” said the officer.
Captain McBust, seated at his desk, looked up from a report he was reading. “Got who this time?” he asked the officer.
“Why, Shifty Grogan,” said the officer. “Got him dead to rights passing a bogus c note. Good job, too. So good you can’t even tell it’s fake.”
The officer handed the hundred dollar bill to the captain, who held it up for examination. “You know why you can’t tell this is a fake?” he asked.
“Why?” said the officer, with obvious interest.
“Because this is a real hundred dollar bill. You may want to consider returning this to Grogan and letting him loose.”
“Right away, captain,” said the policeman apologetically.
Captain McBust returned the bill to the officer who quickly exited the office, closing the bottom half of the Dutch door behind him as he departed.
Tommy walked into the main office of the police station. It consisted of several desks, most of which were unoccupied. To the right a doorway led to the cells. On the left, next to a bottled water stand, was the entrance to the captain’s office. Tommy walked up to a fat police officer who was seated at a desk, opening a large envelope.
“May I speak to the captain?” he meekly asked the policeman.
The fat policeman motioned to the captain’s office. “He’s right in there. As long as you’re going that way, why don’t you give him these?” The police officer stared hard at Tommy’s attire and then handed him two plaster of paris shoeprints which he had managed to pull from the envelope. Tommy took them and walked over to the Dutch door that served as the entrance to the captain’s office. He set them carefully on the countertop of the bottom door and then knocked politely on the wall. Inside the office, Captain McBust looked up from his papers. “Yes?” he asked, also staring at Tommy.
“The officer said to give you these,” Tommy said.
“Thank you,” replied Captain McBust. “Just leave them there. I’ll get to them in a moment.” He set the report aside. “Do you know what they are?” he asked Tommy.
“Sure,” said Tommy confidently. “They look like the tracks a pair of Converse tennis shoes makes. Probably size tens.”
“How do you know that?” Captain McBust asked.
“I recognize the treads, and I’m a size ten,” replied Tommy. “A lot of the kids wear them at the high school.”
“The high school,” repeated the captain thoughtfully. Then he said “You know, son, that information could help solve a murder.”
“A murder?” asked Tommy with disbelief in his voice. Things like that didn’t happen in Tootville.
“Last night around ten o’clock Officer Down was torn to pieces up on Tootville Ridge.”
Tommy gasped.
“If what you say is correct our murderer is wearing a pair of size ten Converse tennis shoes with red clay all over them,” said Captain McBust. “If you happen to spot someone whose shoes match that description, let us know.”
“Sure thing,” Tommy replied, suddenly seeming quite nervous.
“Did you want to see me about something?” queried the captain.
Tommy replied quickly, “I just stopped in to say that as a conscientious citizen I appreciate all the hard work you do to maintain law and order in this community. Bye.”
Tommy disappeared from the doorway and walked rapidly by the fat police officer, who was now heavily involved in chowing down on a crème-filled donut. “See you again soon,” called the officer after him, as Tommy fled the building and raced down the stairs.
“Gosh, I hope not,” Tommy said to himself as he ran for his bike. As he reached the bicycle, he stopped, bent over and ripped off his shoes and socks. He stuffed them in the basket, picked up Watson, set him quickly down on top of the shoes, climbed on his bike and began to pedal furiously away from the police station. As he rode down the street, he apologized to his dog. “Sorry if I was rough back there, Watson, but I can’t let anybody see me with those shoes on. Officer Down is dead and they think I did it.”
Watson looked up at Tommy and barked. “Of course I didn’t do it,” said Tommy to his dog. “That alien shapeshifter must have done it.” Zon said he was bad medicine. We’ve got to get that space creep before they toss me in jail and throw away the key. Are you with me?” Watson gave Tommy an approving bark.
Inside the police station, Captain McBust sat staring at the door to his office. He played absent-mindedly with a pencil in his hand. “The high school…” he said pensively to himself.
___
At the high school, Tommy walked his bike by the statue of Major Toot and parked it in the bike rack by the steps leading up into the school. Watson immediately hopped down from the bike. Tommy grabbed his shoes and socks and looked around to see if anyone was watching him. Seeing no one, he gave Watson the thumbs up sign. “Here goes nothing,” he said to the dog and then turned and ran up the steps and into the building toward the boys bathroom.
Tommy peeked into the bathroom and ascertained that it was empty. He walked in and began banging his shoes against a sink in order to knock the dried clay off. “Come on. Come on,” he muttered as he smacked his shoes against the sink. Some clay did come off and covered the floor and sink but much of it remained caked on the shoes. Tommy turned on the water and frantically tried scrubbing the shoes, but they were too stained to remove all the red clay and he only succeeded in making a mess. Tommy examined his efforts in dismay. “It’s no use,” he said to himself. “I’ll just have to trash them.”
He resignedly threw his shoes and socks in a trash can next to the sink and left the rest room. After he exited, a stall door slowly opened and Stretch, dressed in a basketball uniform, walked toward the muddy sink. He turned off the water which Tommy, in his haste, had left running and peered into the trash can. Stretch lifted the shoes out of the can and examined them.
___
Miss Limburger was seated at her desk and the students, dressed in various costumes, sat in the classroom with their normal apathetic looks on their faces. Stretch stood at the head of the class wearing his basketball uniform and holding a basketball in one hand. “My goal is to play college ball either at UCLA or some other big west coast school. Of course, I’ll set all kinds of school records and our team will win the NCAA title four years in a row. Then I’ll be a first round draft pick by the Boston Celtics where I’ll be signed for at least thirty million dollars a year. Linda, sitting at her regular seat in the front row, applauded enthusiastically.
“It sounds like you really know what the score is when it comes to your future, Stretch,” said Miss Limburger. “I hope you don’t foul out on your way to the big league. Thank you. Fishface, what is your career going to be?”
Stretch returned to his seat next to Linda, and Fishface walked from the back of the room to the head of the class. She was wearing a polka-dotted maternity dress with pillows tied underneath to her stomach to make her look very pregnant. “I’m going to be a housewife and a mother,” Fishface declared with determination in her voice. “I will follow my husband wherever he goes and take care of him through thick and thin. I’m also going to have lots and lots and lots of babies.”
Miss Limburger marked in her notebook and said “Very big of you, Fishface. There aren’t many of your kind left. Thomas, what about you?”
Tommy stood up from his desk in the back of the class and walked down the aisle. Fishface returned to her seat along the same aisle and as she squeezed past Tommy she winked at him. Tommy winced and walked to the head of the class in his bare feet, his wrinkled clothes and his DORK outfit.
“I’m in training to become a DORK,” said Tommy seriously.
“You don’t need any training for that,” Stretch said derisively.
The apathetic class suddenly burst into laughter. Tommy ignored the mockery and continued. “DORK stands for detector of renegade killers. Right now I’m in the middle of a top secret investigation. As soon as the case is solved I’ll fill you in on all the details.”
“Very interesting,” Miss Limburger said, smiling indulgently. “We have a secret agent in our midst.” She marked in her book and then eyed Tommy closely. “Time will tell if you have what it takes to become a real DORK.”
“Thanks, Miss Limburger,” Tommy said and walked to his seat in the back of the room.
“Chesty McBust,” Miss Limburger said. “Are you going to follow in the footsteps of your illustrious father?”
Chesty walked to the front of the room wearing a trench coat and a Sherlock Holmes style hat. “No, ma’am,” she said with a grin. “My career is going to be much more interesting. I’m going to be a centerfold.” Chesty threw open the trench coat, which was all she was wearing with the exception of her hat, and bared herself to the class. There was a tremendous burst of cheering and applause as the boredom of the male students vanished. Chesty closed her trench coat and the applause and whistling gradually died down.
“Well,” said Miss Limburger, “It looks like you’ve won the approval of your schoolmates. No doubt we’ll be seeing big things from you in the future.”
The bell rang, saving the day. The students closed their notebooks and collected their belongings, but Miss Limburger had some announcements for the class before they left. “Tomorrow we will have the pleasure of listening to an extra credit assignment from Lardo.” Lardo beamed but the rest of the class groaned. “Also, please finish reading chapter seven in your textbooks. Class dismissed.”
The thought of more reading elicited another groan from the students as they headed for the classroom door.