Michael K. raced down the sidewalk, carving around kids, parents, strollers, and dogs like they were obstacles in a video game.
Venus pedaled behind him, following his line.
Bob elf and Jennifer elf ran after the skinny man in the Santa hat and long underwear, leading a small crowd of angry, smelly Dunker’s Donuts customers.
“Bob and Jennifer, stop!” yelled Michael K., swerving around a garbage can.
Bob and Jennifer looked back and waved at Michael K. and Venus. “We will catch Santa Claus first!” they yelled back. And they kept running.
“That is not who you think it is!”
Bob and Jennifer ran even faster. They were closing in on the gangly runner wearing the Santa hat and Santa boots and not much else. And now it looked like Santa was talking to a pickle.
That could not be good.
Michael K. leaned down and pushed off with one more burst of speed. It was all or nothing now.
“That is not Santa Claus! It’s Agent Umber dressed up to look like Santa Claus!”
That worked.
Bob and Jennifer stopped so fast that both Michael K. and Venus crashed into them and made a huge pileup of elves and kids and board and bike.
“Eeeeeeeek!”
And hamster.
“Eee eeek weeek eek eeek.”
Make that “and leader of the Spaceheadz, Major Fluffy.”
Bob elf sat up, looking stunned. “That is not Santa Claus?”
“No,” said Venus, untangling her leg from her crashed bike. “That is Agent Umber, AAA.”
“That is very not wholesome freshness,” said Jennifer. “How can he do that?”
“Eee weee eeek,” added Major Fluffy from the bottom of the pile.
Michael K. decided he really needed to scare Bob and Jennifer to keep them away from Umber.
“That Santa is bad,” said Michael K. “If you catch him, Santa will destroy the world.”
Michael K. was so intent on scaring Bob and Jennifer that he didn’t notice the crowd of Dunker’s moms and dads and little kids who had caught up to them.
A little kid in an orange stroller instantly started crying, “Whaaaa! Santa is bad!”
Two more kids started wailing, “Whaaa! Santa is going to destroy the world!”
Michael K. and Venus untangled themselves and pulled Bob and Jennifer to their feet.
“What’s wrong with you?” asked a large, angry man holding one of the criers. “Why would you say a thing like that?”
Now Michael K. and Venus and the Spaceheadz were surrounded by a circle of crying kids and angry parents.
“Shame on you kids . . . ”
“No respect . . . ”
Michael K. looked around. Santa Umber had disappeared. Completely.
“WHAAAAA!” yelled one kid, louder than everyone else. “I want my F-18 Hornet fighter jet! WHAAAAA!”
Michael K. backed away from the crowd, pulling Venus and the Spaceheadz with him.
“We would really like to stay and explain all of this,” said Michael K., “but we really have to . . . RUN!”
And they did.