The Freds went to work. Fred One robbed the First National Bank on Sunset, pausing and looking up at the cameras so there would be no doubt about who to arrest for the crime. Then he ran. For the plan to work, none of the Freds could be caught.
Fred Two spent most of the day looking for just the right car to steal. He knew that the more expensive the car, the more trouble the real Fred would be in. You had to be choosy in this situation. And Fred Two was. He hot-wired a Ferrari and raced through the city, then headed back to Joe the Bad Guy’s lair.
Fred Three had been asked to cause general trouble. This gave him a ton of options. Should he steal something? Break something? Beat up someone? The possibilities were endless. He decided he’d start with bullying and work his way up to more serious crimes.
He went to the nearest school and waited for the bell to ring. As the students headed home for the day, Fred chose the smallest one to pick on.
“Hey, you,” Fred Three said, closing in on a second-grader. “Hey, twerp.”
The second-grader stopped and looked at Fred. He’d been told never to speak to strangers, but here was someone who knew his name. How did this man know his name was Twerp? Timothy Twerp Junior the Third, if you wanted the long version.
“Do I know you?” Timothy asked Fred. The fact was, he thought he recognized Fred from someplace. Maybe on the cover of one of his mother’s CDs.
“You look hungry, kid,” Fred said.
It was one thing to talk to a stranger, but to take food from one was a definite no-no. Timothy turned and began to walk away. “I’m not hungry,” he called over his shoulder. “Thanks anyway, mister.”
“Seriously, kid. You look hungry. How about a knuckle sandwich?”
Knuckle sandwich! The worst food Timothy could imagine. His walk turned into a run, then into a sprint—pretty darn fast, too, for a second-grader.
But he was no match for Fred, who caught up with the kid in no time and delivered a couple of choice knuckle sandwiches right in front of the automated teller machine on Wilshire, where his every move was captured on video. Fred looked up and said, “Cheeeeeeese.” He was glad that he’d brushed his teeth earlier that day. He wanted to look good for the evening news.
* * *
Back at his lair, Joe the Bad Guy was getting anxious. He couldn’t wait to see if the three Freds accomplished their missions. He cloned ten more Freds while he was waiting and sent them off.
“Rob, steal, and break stuff,” he told them. “Make sure someone sees you, and don’t get caught. Meet back here this evening.” He would have had them stay to clean up the lair first, but Freds One, Two, and Three had done a pretty good job.
The Freds took off and Joe watched them from the door of his lair. “I feel like a father,” he said.
It didn’t take long for the news to get out. Los Angeles was in the midst of a crime spree, the likes of which hadn’t been seen since Max the Wonder Thug’s second cousin had robbed fourteen banks in a single day … or was it Calamity Wayne’s third niece? In any case, bad stuff was happening. And all fingers pointed to one man—Fred of The Grateful Fred.
