My Life as a Screaming Skydiver by Bill Myers

Author:Bill Myers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Midair Detour

The air continued hissing out of the cabin. Don’t get me wrong, I like a gentle breeze as much as the next guy, but things were getting windy in a Hurricane Hugo sorta way.

“What’s happening?” Opera yelled. He would have yelled, “Mhat’s mappening,” but the wind was so strong that it had sucked the potato chips right out of his mouth, giving new meaning to the term air pollution.

“They’ve broken into the airplane!” Wall Street shouted.

“Who?” Opera yelled.

“Wally’s friends!”

“I don’t see them!” I cried. “I don’t—”

K-RASH Thud Thud Thud

Suddenly, they dropped through the roof and landed in front of us. Talk about making an entrance. It was great to see the whole gang together again. I was particularly pleased to see Dad. Of course I wanted to leap up and run into his arms, but there was something about the way Tall Guy and Short Stuff shoved their weapons into my chest that made me a little shy about showing affection.

But not my dad. “Wally!” he cried. “Are you all right!?”

I nodded so hard you could hear my brains rattle.

“Son!” he shouted. “These men have something very important to tell you!”

“Zat’s right!” Tall Guy cried. “Zings are not az zay appear! Vee muust talk to you.”

I threw a nervous look up to Mr. Blond who was still standing in the front of the plane. They caught my glance and spun around to him.

“Zer hee iz!” Tall Guy shouted.

“He’z alive!” Short Stuff shouted back.

They pulled their weapons from my chest and spun around to Mr. Blond who began to yell, “The toothpaste, Wally! In your shaving kit, use the toothpaste!”

I reached down and started digging the toothpaste out of the kit.

The bad boys looked at me like I had a screw loose. Who could blame them? There they were, holding their superautomatic, blow-you-to-kingdom-come guns, while I was grabbing my supertube of Whitey Bright Toothpaste . . . (regular flavored, not even mint).

“Squeeze it, Wally!” Mr. Blond shouted. “Pop the cap and squeeze it!”

I yanked off the lid and squeezed the tube. But instead of toothpaste, out shot a thick, gooey stream of what looked like . . . rope! Some sort of liquid rope! It squirted from the tube and instantly covered our two new guests. They shouted and tried to raise their weapons, but the rope was so sticky and strong that it bound their arms and hands, making it impossible for them to move.

“What are you doing?” Dad shouted. “You’ve got the wrong—”

But that was all I heard. Because as the bad boys struggled with the ropes, Mr. Blond broke into a loud, echoing laugh. “Excellent, Wallace. Simply excellent.”

I nodded, giving the tube one last squirt (right in the middle, just in case either of them was a neat freak). Talk about being tied up in knots. Tall Guy and Short Stuff couldn’t move a muscle.

I threw a triumphant look over to Dad, but instead of smiling, he was shaking his head.

“Well, gentlemen,” Mr. Blond shouted, “I hate to be a party pooper, but I have a few errands to attend to.

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