I gazed across the room and quickly read the minds of the other kids.

This is real, I realized. Not a joke. These kids are truly afraid.

But — who were these two insane-looking superheroes? And why were we all locked in this room with them?

“Know what PICKLES my PASTRAMI?” the one who called himself the Purple Rage boomed. He pointed to my brother. “YOU!” he cried.

He opened his mouth in a fierce animal roar. “Hear me RAAAAAGE!” he bellowed. “YAAAAAAIIIIII!”

Then he dove at Jackson with both gloved hands raised, as if to strangle him.

The other kids let out horrified cries.

Jackson acted quickly. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. And as the Purple Rage pounced, Jackson sent the crystal chandelier plunging down on him.

The chandelier crashed onto the superhero’s head and shoulders. The Rage uttered a weak cry. He toppled facedown onto the floor.

The chandelier shattered over him, burying him beneath it. Glass splintered and flew everywhere.

Everyone ducked and ran out of the way.

Groaning, the Rage shoved the mangled chandelier off his back. Slowly, very slowly, he pulled himself to his feet. He had shards of glass stuck to his face and the front of his costume.

“That BURSTS my BALONEY!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. He made two giant fists. His eyes goggled. He clenched his teeth. He twisted his face in a furious rage.

“That PARBOILS my PEONIES!” he bellowed. He began pounding his fists against his chest. THUD THUD THUD.

“That SPLITS my SPAGHETTI!”

Then he let out another deafening animal roar. And he EXPLODED.

His body burst apart with a loud SPLAAAAAT.

I covered my eyes and ducked as his purple guts went flying all over the room.

Kids screamed and dove out of the way.

When I looked up, the floor was puddled in wet gobs of purple and red.

A hush fell over the room. The kids all looked stunned. No one said a word. No one moved.

The other superhero stepped forward. He pushed back his leopard-skin cape. A crooked smile spread over his face.

“My turn!” he shouted. “Did you forget that I was here?”

He shook his head. “That purple punk was asking for trouble. Someone better shovel him up! I hate a messy houseguest — don’t you? Hahaha.”

No one laughed. I gazed down at the puddles of what had been the Purple Rage.

“Did you forget that I, Dr. Maniac, am your Keeper?” the superhero cried, tossing back his cape. He gazed around the room, his eyes stopping at each kid. “You still have to deal with me, kiddies!”

“You’re crazy!” a girl shouted.

“I’m not crazy!” the superhero bellowed. “I’m a MANIAC!”

I turned to Jackson. “This isn’t really happening — is it?”

“Maybe this will slow you punks down!” Dr. Maniac declared. “If you can’t take the HEAT, stay out of the FURNACE! Hahahahaha!”

He threw a switch on the wall.

We heard a loud hum.

Everyone stood there silently, waiting … waiting.

And then some kids started to scream.