Duncan was waiting for us.

“I know all about the spilled syrup,”

I said. “What did you do with the bag

the waiter gave you?”

“I put it in the freezer,” Duncan said.

“I like frozen pancakes.”

“Did you open the bag first?”

“No, it was too icky and sticky.”

I put my hand on Duncan’s shoulder.

“I, Nate the Great, know

where your joke book is.

It is in your freezer!”

“Oh, cool!” Duncan said.

Was that a joke?

Never mind.

“I, Nate the Great, say

you were reading the menu.

But you were also reading your joke book.

The menu was big. The book was small.

So the book must have slid

or fallen into the pages of the menu.

Before or while the syrup spilled.

The waiter scooped everything up fast

and put it all in a take-out bag.”

“You are a good detective,” Duncan said.

“Even if you don’t put up signs.”

“No problem,” I said.

“Olivia has her way. I have mine.”

I opened the freezer.

I saw the bag.

I took it out.

I opened it.

It was full of cold, crusty, icky things.

Pancakes, napkins, the top

from a syrup container,

a little tub of butter,

a huge menu …

but no joke book!

“The joke book isn’t here,” I said.

“The world is definitely

coming to an end, correct?”

Duncan looked down at his feet.

“Correct,” he said. “I need my book

at two o’clock. And it’s after twelve now.”

“Do not lose hope,” I said.

“That is the worst thing to lose.”

I sat down.

“I, Nate the Great, need pancakes.

Sludge needs a bone.

They help us think.”

“Have a frozen pancake,” Duncan said.

“Thaw it,” I said.

“I don’t thaw,” Duncan said.

“Very well,” I said.

“A frozen pancake is

better than no pancake at all.

But give Sludge a nice bone.”