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With his date with destiny set for November 16, Max's next job was to develop his routine to perfection. Up-and-coming comedians accomplished this by performing every night at local comedy clubs. Of course, most comics lived in big cities like New York and L.A. # where there were dozens of places to perform. In Bartonville, Ohio, there was only one: the Giggle Factory on route thirteen, just east of town.
Mr. Lugnitz, owner and manager of the Giggle Factory, reminded Max of one of the Seven Dwarfs. He was a fully grown adult—even a little on the tall
side. But his massive head and hulking hands and feet made him look like an enlarged version of a much smaller man. And his personality was a dead ringer for Grumpy.
He listened with a grimace as Max explained that he wanted to be a regular performer at the club in order to hone his act for the contest. "You don't have to pay me anything/' Max finished. "And if I win, I promise to mention the Giggle Factory when I go on Comedy Planet. That'll be great publicity."
Mr. Lugnitz pointed to a handwritten cardboard sign on the door: under 21 not admitted. "You twenty-one?"
"I'm not a customer," Max said seriously. "I'm talent."
"You're underage," the owner corrected. "Why don't you work on your act in front of your little friends at school?"
"I tried that," Max admitted. "But people are really busy over at the middle school. The only class that would let me perform was in-school suspension, and—it's a long story. You don't want to hear it."
Mr. Lugnitz seemed to soften a little. "You go to the middle school? I graduated from there, back when it was the old Bartonville High. Maybe you
know my brother's kid, Ronny. I think he's in eighth grade. Real sweetheart."
"Oh, sure, I know Ronny," Max said slyly. In fact, he had never heard of Ronny Lugnitz, and didn't know many eighth graders at all. "We're practically best friends. If he was here, he'd tell you how funny I am. So how about giving me a break?"
"Not a chance, kid."
"Too bad we can't tell him there's a President's Council on Letting Kids Do Comedy," sighed Sydni. She was walking to school with Max, Maude, and Big on Monday morning. "Adults never fall for that one."
"I'm not giving up," Max said determinedly.
"But if the guy doesn't want kids in the Giggle Factory, what can you do about it?"
Max dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "He's just saying that because he assumes I stink. He'd let a three-month-old baby perform if the kid could get laughs. I just have to convince him I'm funny."
"If he won't let you perform, how are you going to do that?" asked Big.
"His nephew goes to our school," Max reasoned.
"All I have to do is find this kid and tell him a few jokes. When he sees how funny I am, I'll get him to put in a word with his uncle."
"Who's the nephew?" asked Sydni.
"He's in eighth grade. Ronny Lugnitz."
Maude blanched. "Ronny Lugnitz? The Ronny Lugnitz?"
"Don't tell me he insulted your pants too," Sydni said icily.
"When I went to summer camp," said Maude feelingly, "Ronny Lugnitz snuck over from the boys' compound and put a frog in my sleeping bag every night! By the end of the month, the swamp was practically empty! They had scientists from the university testing the water, trying to find out what happened to the amphibian population!"
"That was two years ago!" Max exclaimed. "He probably doesn't even remember you."
"Oh, yeah? So how come every time I pass him in the hall, he says, 'Ribbit'?"
"Maybe he's not saying 'ribbit,'" mused Big. "Maybe he's saying 'rabbit,' because you have such long ears."
"The guy's evil," Maude insisted. "Half the time he isn't even in the school. He usually skulks around
at that big rock just past the fence, where all the juvenile delinquents hang out."
Max nodded. "Then I know exactly where to find him."
"Count me out," said Maude. "I don't go where I'm not wanted."
"In that case," commented Sydni, "you should have spent that eighty-five bucks on a space suit!"
"I'm not going either," put in Big. "I had an artistic inspiration at breakfast this morning. My Alpha- Bits spelled out tree. Well, actually, just tre, but they never put enough vowels in that cereal. I got the idea to take my video camera and film the first apple failing off Old Atticus."
Old Atticus was the most famous tree in Mercer County. According to legend, it had been planted by Johnny Appleseed himself during his wanderings through Ohio in 1802. The tree overlooked Stryker Pond, which was a gathering point for a flock of Canada geese on their way south for the winter. It was said that, when the first apple fell each October, the geese would leave Bartonville and continue their migration. No one could verify this, of course. No one had ever gone out there to wait for the apple to fall. Until today.
"What? Now?" asked Sydni in disbelief. "What about school?"
"That apple won't wait until after three-thirty/' said Big firmly. "Tre was a sign. It's going to happen today. And it's my job as a filmmaker"—he fluffed up his ascot—"to prove the legend by capturing the moment on video."
"Suit yourself/' Sydni groaned. "But if Miss Munsinger asks where you are, I'm not going to lie."
She got no answer. At this point, Big had already split off down the country lane that led to Stryker Pond and Old Atticus.
Nor did Max enter the schoolyard. When Sydni and Maude stepped onto the playground, he skirted the fence and circled around to the big rock that was a magnet for middle school troublemakers and class-cutters.
He found five people there, three boys and two girls. "Hi," he said.
Nobody answered.
"I'm looking for Ronny. Ronny Lugnitz."
"Yo," came a reply.
The boy who stepped forward was compact in every way, slight, skinny, with short limbs, tightly wrapped in denim, top and bottom. Yet he some-
how appeared strong, like a coiled spring that could let go at any moment. He took a sip from a can of AMP cola, a drink that was banned at Bartonville Middle School because it had twice the caffeine, four times the sugar, and eight times as much fizz as regular Coke and Pepsi. Mario sometimes drank it. It was popular among truck drivers, because it kept them awake and alert during long hauls.
"Do I know you, kid?"
"Not yet," replied Max smoothly. "I'm Max Carmody, a business associate of your uncle over at the Giggle Factory."
Ronny snorted a laugh that ruffled Max's hair and splashed him lightly with AMP. "Yeah, right."
A tall willowy blond girl with big hair and enough makeup to repaint the school ran up and threw her arms around Ronny. To Max she said,
"Who are you?"
"Max Carmody. I'm a comedian."
"Yeah?" She seemed mildly impressed. "I'm Lorelei, Ronny's girlfriend. I like jokes. Tell us a joke."
"One joke wouldn't be enough for a comedy expert like you," Max wheedled. "I know—let me do my whole act for you guys. You can decide if it's
funny enough. And," he added with a meaningful look at Ronny # "maybe you # ll mention me to your uncle."
Tm not your agent f " Ronny replied. "But I could be your worst nightmare if you don't get lost."
"Do what he says # " advised Lorelei proudly. "He can get nasty."