And Loving It!

Chief: I’m mortified, Max. They recognized my voice.

Max: It was worth it, Chief. The floor has stopped rising. We’re saved.

Operator: Oh, sure, fine for you. But the Chief is a laughing stock.

Max: I’m sorry about that, Chief.

Chief: Nevermind, Max. It will all be forgotten in ten or fifteen years or so. Now, about the mission. I suppose the fact that you and 99 were trapped in a Squash Room means that you haven’t recaptured Guru Optimo yet.

Max: That sums it up fairly well, Chief. However, now that we are no longer being ground between the upper and nether millstones, we intend to get right back on the job. Incidentally, do you have any suggestions on how to open a door that has completely disappeared?

Chief: It’s impossible, Max. Forget about it and get out of that Squash Room and find Guru Optimo.

Max: That’s the problem, Chief. We’re locked in. And the door has disappeared.

Operator: Maybe one of the crocodiles ate it.

Max: Impossible.

Chief: Have you looked in the crocodiles, Max?

Max: Chief, the crocodiles are in the dungeon and we’re on an upper floor.

Operator: Crocodiles aren’t people, you know, Max. They haven’t had any training in table manners. They don’t know they’re not supposed to reach.

Max: Chief, there’s too much interference on the line. I’ll call you back after 99 and I figure out how to get out of a locked room with no door.

Chief: I’d rather not know, Max. Just call me when you have the mission safely wrapped up.

Max: That will probably be very soon, Chief.

Operator: Don’t bet on it, Chief. By the time Max wraps up this mission you’ll probably have time to live down that call to the Electric Company and knit a pair of booties for the Jolly Green Giant to boot.

Max hung up.

“What did the Chief say, Max?” 99 asked.

“He has every confidence in us.”

“That’s nice. How are we going to get out of here, Max?”

“He didn’t say.”

99 sighed. “I wish we’d thought to bring along some of those gadgets from Research amp; Development.”

“99! That’s it! I think I have some gadgets left over from our last mission!”

“Wonderful, Max!”

He dug into his pocket and brought out a handful of tiny capsules. “Let’s see what we have here. . Ah! A miniature submarine!”

“How will that help, Max?”

“I’m afraid it won’t, 99. It says here that it’s a convertible. And you know how convertibles are-the top always leaks.”

“Anything else of value, Max?”

“We won’t starve,” Max replied. “Here’s a seven-year supply of peanut brittle.”

“Now that you mention it, I could use a snack.”

Max opened the capsule. What remained of the Squash Room was immediately filled with peanut brittle.

“Max! I can’t move!”

“Don’t panic, 99. Start nibbling.”

“But, Max, it’s a seven-year supply.”

“Never believe what you read on a package, 99. Take my word for it, six years from now there won’t be a bite of peanut brittle in sight.”

“Max, check the other capsules, will you? Maybe there’s a solution for dissolving peanut brittle.”

“Mmmmmmm. . no, but here’s a capsule that contains a package of twelve dynamite sticks.”

“Max! We’re saved! We can blast our way out!”

“I hope so, 99. Let me read the instructions. It says: ‘Attach fuse to dynamite stick, then light fuse, then stand back.’ But we have no means of lighting the fuse, 99.”

“We could rub two sticks together.”

“The package doesn’t come with sticks.”

“We could use two sticks of dynamite.”

“Standing back is going to be a problem, 99.”

“Maybe this peanut brittle will shield us.”

“Well, it’s worth a try. I’ll just- Oh-oh-”

“What, Max?”

“There’s a tag attached to this capsule. It says: ‘Note: These dynamite sticks will not fire if exposed to a mixture of sugar, water, corn syrup, butter, soda, vanilla and arachis hypogaea.’ ”

“What’s that, for heaven’s sake, Max?”

“The ingredients of peanut brittle.”

“Arachis hypogaea?”

“Goobers.”

“Oh. Well, try another capsule, Max.”

“Here’s a collapsible Greyhound Bus. Nope, no use to us. There’s no collapsible driver. How about this-a miniature piggy bank.”

“What for?”

“For small change.”

“Keep going, Max.”

“That’s all the capsules, 99. I’m afraid there’s no hope. We’re doomed.”

They fell silent. The only sound in the Squash Room was the crunching of peanut brittle.

Then, soon, a voice called to them from outside the room.

“Smart! Are you still alive? It’s me, Lucky Bucky! Have mercy! You win!”

“Max!” 99 said. “Did you hear that!”

“We’re imagining it, 99. We’ve lost our minds.”

“But it sounded like Lucky Bucky Buckley!”

“It always does. That’s how you can tell that you’re insane. You hear your worst enemy begging for mercy.”

“Smart!” the voice called again. “Answer me! I can’t stand it! I know you did it! I know you turned off the electricity! Have mercy! Without electricity, I can’t make my morning coffee! Without my cup of morning coffee, I’m a nervous wreck!”

“Max, it’s him!” 99 insisted.

“All right, 99, since we’re doomed, I’ll humor you. I’ll say it’s him too. Is there anything else I can do to make your last hours easier for you?”

“Answer him, Max!”

“Why not?” Max shouted out to Lucky Bucky. “You’re right-I did have the electricity turned off. If you want it on again, you’ll have to get us out of here!”

“Hold on! You’re as good as out!”

Max snickered. “If this weren’t so tragic, it would be funny, 99,” he said.

“I’ve got the fire ax,” Lucky Bucky called. “I’m chopping down the wall!”

“Max. . chopping sounds. .” 99 said. “This is real!”

“99, at the hour of death, the imagination has no limits.”