The Merwinsvillians were so busy high-fiving each other, no one noticed as Old Man Herbert drifted down in his AirChair and joined in the celebration with the other members of Operation Slugwalker Switcheroo. Also going unnoticed were the three baggy-skinned G’Daliens, waddling toward the Flee-a-seum exit.

They almost made it.

Mayor CROM-WELL was not one to allow local heroes to go unrecognized, especially when they deserved loud, public mayoral thanks. Spotting them from up on the TransPodium, he bellowed so all could hear: “THOSE THREE ARE GETTING AWAY!” His voice boomed through the arena to the crowd below. “QUICK! ENTHUSIASTICALLY SEIZE THEM!”

The crowd swarmed the three frumpy G’Daliens, lifted them up onto their shoulders, and carried them back to the center of the field. As the heroes were jostled and bounced into the air by the happy crowd, their three rubber G’Dalien heads suddenly popped off. The cheers of joy turned to screams of horror—until all eyes recognized the faces of Sammi, Alex, and Herbert in their rubber suits. The crowd fell silent.

“It was you?!” someone yelled out from the crowd.

“Wait,” said another. “You said you weren’t AlienSlayers.”

The three looked at one another, unsure of what to tell them.

Alex spoke up. “We’re not AlienSlayers! We’re not Solo Libres, we’re not superheroes. We’re just…friends.”

Sammi grinned at him and added, “You’re the ones who slayed that space slug, not us! What I said was true—you don’t need to flee, and you don’t need anyone else to fight your battles for you!”

The two of them gave Herbert a look. He was staring off sadly at the craggy wreckage of what was the SlayerLair, now the lopped-off top of City Hall. Alex elbowed him in the ribs.

“Ow! Uh, that’s right. You all ripped apart a giant, slug-shaped balloon. So, yeah—way to go.”

There was a half second of silence—then the crowd erupted once again in a burst of civic pride.

The human Merwinsvillians made their way down from the stands and waded into the celebration on the field. GOR-DON searched the waves of people, looking for Marion. When he spotted her from a distance, her eyes grew wide. She burst into a sprint, running straight for him. At last, GOR-DON thought to himself. He shut his eyes, spread his arms, and puckered up for a kiss as best he could, considering he didn’t have lips.

POW! “HIIIIYYYYYAAAAHHHH!!”

Marion plowed into GOR-DON and launched herself off his stubbly bald head. She shot into the air, her steady, warriorlike gaze fixed on something just beyond the crowd of G’Daliens holding up Sammi, Alex, and Herbert.

“RRRRREEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOAAAARRRR!!”

The real Mr. Nibbles had CRASHED out of the front of the oblong warehouse and stretched its powerful wings, bursting out of its Lunar Shuttle straitjacket. It launched into the air and dove straight for the three snack-sized humans responsible for disturbing his nap and giving him a pounding headache—Sammi, Alex, and Herbert.

Mayor CROM-WELL fainted.

“Sweet chariots of fire!” Special Agent Illinois leaped up onto the TransPodium, dove on his chubby boss, and immediately gave him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, despite the fact that they both had mustaches, and the mayor had eaten an egg-salad sandwich for lunch.

Marion soared over the mob. She ripped the hairnet from her head and slammed midair into the angry worm. In an instant she stretched her hairnet around the tip of the Death Slug’s snout. The G’Daliens below dropped the ex-slayers on the ground and scattered as Marion swung herself up onto Mr. Nibbles’ neck and pulled back on the hairnet with all her might, like a crazed, lunch lady cowgirl yanking the reins of a wild stallion.

“RRRRREEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOAAAARRRR!!”

The leather-winged beast swooped out of its dive, missing Sammi, Alex, and Herbert by a hair. Mr. Nibbles soared back up and bucked madly above the field. The Merwinsvillians still in the stands cheered like fans at an alien rodeo, while those on the ground joined the G’Daliens jumping up and down wildly at the spectacle overhead. Marion held on with one hand, the other raised high, riding the bucking Death Slug as it thrashed about above the field.

Finally Mr. Nibbles crashed to the ground and skidded to a halt, its belly heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Marion leaned forward and rubbed his head, cooing softly in his ear.

“Easy, big fellah. Mama’s here now.”

The crowd went wild, rushing up to Marion as she dismounted. They lifted her up over their heads and paraded her around as EL-ROY, Dallas, and Sausalito ran to tie down the broken and defeated Klapthorian Death Slug.

Still lying in the dirt nearby, GOR-DON watched the entire scene in amazement. A slight grin grew on his lipless mouth.

“What a woman,” he mumbled to himself. “GOR-DON likey…”

“So, m’lady. We meet again.”

GOR-DON looked up. LO-PEZ smiled as his tentacles were doing various things at the same time—fixing his hair, smoothing his mustache, checking his breath, opening a bag of salt ’n’ vinegar potato chips. His caterpillar eyebrows began doing push-ups again, double-time.

“I believe this belongs to you, m’lady.” His one free tentacle held GOR-DON’s trampled, dirty blonde wig as if it were a delicate lace hankie and gently placed it atop his stubbly head.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” GOR-DON grumbled.