The door to the fridge was open and our two superheroes were tied up close by. Flames rose to the ceiling. Smoke was everywhere.
“Seriously, Melvin, what’s your noggin telling us to do?” Candace asked.
“I have no idea.” Melvin couldn’t believe his bad luck. It seemed the whole world knew of his weakness. And here he was, once again, powerless before bologna.
The room grew hotter. They could hardly breathe.
“Come on,” Candace said, coughing. “If anyone can think of a plan, you can.”
True, Melvin was the one with noggin power. He and Candace had been in worse scrapes than this and he’d always gotten them out.
Melvin thought and thought.
“That’s it, Melvin,” Candace said.
“What?”
“You had that ‘I’m thinking’ look on your face.”
Melvin glanced around the room. The flames were spreading. There was still time—but not a lot. If only he could find some sandwich wrap to block out the effects of bologna long enough for them to make their escape. But there wasn’t any—just the lunch meat he hated, and way too much of it.
And then it happened. Melvin’s knee began to itch. Just when his noggin power was kicking in. As everyone knows, you can’t be itchy and think at the same time.
Melvin began to sweat. He made a face.
“What is it?” Candace asked. He no longer had that ‘I’m thinking’ look.
“I have an itch.”
“Maybe I can reach it.” Candace stretched her fingers toward him—and the ropes snapped. “What the—” She moved her legs and snapped those ropes, too. “Hey, Melvin, I’m free! Let’s get out of here.”
“How’d you do that?”
“I don’t know. Try to break the ropes. I don’t think we’ve lost our superhero powers after all.”
Melvin snapped the ropes binding his hands and ankles. He and Candace stood up, flames roaring around them.
Melvin pointed to the open door of the fridge. “That wasn’t Joe the Bad Guy. It was Joe the Brainless. Look, it’s not bologna. It’s pastrami! Let’s get out of here.”
They did. Just in time. Just in the nick of time, in fact. The house began to collapse around them, and Candace kicked down the front door to make a way out. She might have been able to open the door using the knob like normal people do. But kicking down doors was a Candace thing.
Once outside, Melvin looked for any sign of Joe the Bad Guy’s van. “We have to find him before he does away with the Freds. Up, up, and away.”
Crash!
Splat!
Thud!
Kabonk!
Up and flying in five as usual. The two of them flew off to rescue the Freds. Problem was, where to look?
They zoomed between the tall buildings of downtown Los Angeles. Melvin saw his reflection all over the place, but didn’t stop to flex. There was no time. He had to save all the other Freds to save the real one. If not, his favorite rock and roller was doomed to many years behind bars.
The partners searched and searched. Downtown. Up in the hills. Throughout the valley. Out to the beach.
“I see something,” Candace called. Sure enough, it was Joe the Bad Guy’s van. It had left the road and was shooting across a grassy knoll toward the edge of a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Melvin and Candace raced to the rescue.
They dropped before the van, stopping it cold. “Come out of there with your hands up,” yelled Candace.
Melvin elbowed her and whispered something in her ear.
“I mean—not so fast!” She looked at her partner in uncrime. “Better?”
“Much,” Melvin said.
Joe the Bad Guy stepped from the van, leaving the Freds inside. “I should have known that I couldn’t outwit the famous Melvin Beederman and his lovely assistant.”
Candace smiled. No one had ever called her lovely before.
“You two are just too good,” Joe went on. “You fly, you stop speeding vans. I bet you’re even faster than a speeding bullet.”
Melvin stuck out his chest. “We are.”
“Yes, like I said, you two are too smart and too powerful. Do you mind if I squeeze your bicep?”
Melvin flexed. He’d been wanting to all day.
Joe gave Melvin’s bicep a squeeze. “Awesome. Like iron. And how sharp you look in your superhero outfits. What is that, silk?”
Candace and Melvin exchanged a look. Maybe Joe was bad heading toward dreadful, but right now he was laying on the charm and laying it on thick. “I wish I had a camera. It’s not every day that a bad guy gets to—”
“Melvin, the van!” Candace yelled.
Melvin turned. The van was heading toward the cliff. It had no driver—and all thirteen Freds were inside. There was no time to launch himself. He ran while Candace flew, fast as a speeding bullet. Maybe faster. They heard Joe laughing as they raced to catch up.
“Too late. The Freds are history.”
Not if Melvin Beederman had anything to say about it! He ran so fast the grass burned beneath his feet. Candace streaked through the air above him.
The van went over the cliff and plunged toward the jagged rocks below. So did the partners in uncrime. Melvin ran straight down the side of the cliff and whipped around the front of the van. Candace grabbed the rear bumper, just in time. Just in the nick of time, in fact.
“Go get Joe,” Candace said. “I’ve got the van.”
And Melvin did. He ran straight up the cliff. Joe had a head start but he was no match for Melvin, who, as everybody knows, was as fast as a speeding bullet. Maybe faster.
“Not so fast!” he said, grabbing Joe by the collar.
“Curses,” Joe said. He was back to his uncharming self. “I was just kidding about your bicep. And you really don’t look all that great in your cape and high boots.”
Melvin didn’t care. The Freds were safe and that meant the real Fred was, too. It was all that mattered.
