The Eyes Of Kid Midas

Kevin scarfed down a slice of pizza, practically inhaling it.

'I'm so dumb!' said Kevin. There was no argument from Josh and Teri, who were sitting across from him at the pizza parlor. 'I should have known,' said Kevin. The fact was, Josh should have known, too. There were, after all, four of them there when Kevin found the glasses, and now that Bertram was out of the picture, it left three—three boys on the outside, looking in on a world going crazy. No wonder Hal had screamed when he saw Nicole. They should have known!

It may have taken Hal most of the day to figure out what was going on, but when he did, he didn't waste any time. Kevin, Josh, and Teri had immediately taken to the streets to find Hal, but he was in none of the usual places. He had simply vanished.

'More pizza!' said Kevin.

'You've already eaten an entire pie,' complained Teri. 'If you don't stop, you're going to hurl.'

'More pizza!' demanded Kevin. He was hungry, and the more he ate, the hungrier he got. Even though his stomach was stuffed and he felt like barfing, he was still hungry.

'Maybe it's better this way,' offered Josh.

'Are you kidding me?' said Teri. 'Do you really want Hal Hornbeck using those glasses? If you thought Kevin was a screwup, can you imagine what things would be like with that pus-head running the show?'

Josh sank in his seat and gnawed on a crust.

Kevin inhaled the last slice on the table, then looked up at Teri and Josh with tired, sunken eyes. 'I think I'm going to be sick,' said Kevin.

'I'm not surprised,' said Josh.

'No,' said Kevin, 'that's not what I mean....'

Both Teri and Josh were looking at him now, and they were beginning to understand what he meant. The glasses had been gone for just a couple of hours, and already Kevin was looking bad. His eyes were dark, and his skin was pale and pasty. Soon he would start shivering. What came after the shivering? He didn't know, because Kevin had never let it get beyond that—he had always put the glasses back on. But now he couldn't. How bad would the sickness get? How bad could it get before . . .

Kevin put down his crust. 'Pizza's not going to help, is it?'

They all knew what had to be done.

'Where would you go,' asked Teri, 'if you were Hal Hornbeck and had a pair of magic glasses?'

When the question was asked in that way, the answer came quickly and clearly, bringing on a powerful dose of hope.

Hal had done what most kids in town would do under the circumstances. He had gone to the dentist.

*** 

Public-access cable took in the video dregs of the universe. Would-be talk-show hosts and local crackpot prophets teetering on the edge of lunacy found a happy home on Channel 92. There were long hours of town council meetings, high school sports recorded on home camcorders, and really bad dance recitals. Basically anyone who could afford ten dollars a minute could have his or her own local television show.

Only one local show was watched week after week. Frankie Philpot's World of Phreakie Phenomena.

The story, as everyone knew, went like this. Frankie, a mild-mannered dentist, had discovered some years ago a set of gold-filled molars that not only picked up a local radio station, but also (when the patient's arms were held up in just the right position) could tune in voices from the great beyond.

From that moment on, Frankie had dedicated all of his nondental time to exploring the supernatural, and he produced his findings at six o'clock every Thursday night.

His dental practice doubled, of course, since every kid in town wanted a paranormal dentist who might be able to tighten his or her braces just enough to pull in radio signals from dead people—or even better— famous dead people.

Kids watched his show every week, hoping beyond hope that something mystical would actually happen, but nothing ever did.

This week's show, however, promised to be very interesting.

 ***

Kevin, Teri, and Josh arrived at the small office building where Franklin I. Philpot, D.D.S., had his offices. The waiting room was empty when they arrived.

'Dr. Philpot has canceled all his afternoon appointments,' the receptionist explained through her little glass window. She handed Kevin a small pink card. 'This is a voucher for a free teeth cleaning,' she told him. 'We're sorry for the inconvenience.'

'We don't have an appointment,' said Kevin. 'We just need to talk to him.'

'It's an emergency,' added Josh.

'There are other dentists,' suggested the receptionist, beginning to write them a referral.

'But it's about Elvis!' Teri blurted out.

The receptionist perked up and put down her pen.

'What about Elvis?'

Kevin and Josh turned to Teri. 'Yeah, what about Elvis?'

Teri didn't miss a beat. 'My retainer,' she said. 'Of course I can't be sure, but I've been hearing Elvis singing through my retainer.' The receptionist didn't quite buy it.

Teri pulled the retainer out of her mouth and held it in the receptionist's face. 'You wanna check?'

She grimaced and backed away. 'Maybe you'd better show Dr. Philpot.' She disappeared into the inner offices, and they snuck in right behind her.

 ***

It looked like any normal dental office—several examining rooms with dental couches, X-ray machines, posters about gum disease. The only difference was an office in the back that had been converted into a low-budget television studio.

Hal Hornbeck sat alone in the studio with his feet up, like an emperor, eating chocolates out of a golden bowl.

There was evidence everywhere of Hal's abuse of the glasses—food that must have appeared right before Frankie Philpot's eyes now littered the ground. Philpot was not in sight; he was probably on the phone with someone bigger and more important than himself. This thing was about to blow sky-high, if Kevin didn't do some heavy damage control . . . but he couldn't do that until he got the glasses away from Hal.

'Well, if it isn't the goon patrol,' said Hal, not even bothering to stand up. 'I knew you'd get here sooner or later.'

'I want my glasses now!' said Kevin.

'Extremely Full Nelson!' said Hal, and instantly Kevin felt his neck pressed forward and his feet lifted from the ground, although no one was there. Kevin couldn't talk—could barely breathe. How dare someone use his own glasses against him!

'It's too late,' said Hal. 'Philpot's already putting me on this week's show.'

'You moron! You can't show the glasses on TV,' insisted Teri. 'Then everybody will want to take them away!'

Hal gave her an ear-to-ear smirk. 'Not if they don't know it's the glasses. Right now Philpot thinks I'm the one with the power, and you'd better not tell him different!'

Just then, Frankie Philpot, dentist of the supernatural, burst into the room, fumbling with his video camera. His eyes and hair were wild, as if he had just won the lottery. In his excitement it took him a few moments to notice there were new people in the room.

'Are these your friends?' Frankie asked Hal. 'Are they . . . like you?'

'No,' answered Hal, 'they're mere humans.'

'Don't listen to him,' began Josh. 'He's—'