Once a month, Mom and Dad took everyone out to eat, letting each child pick the venue in turn. Last month, Leni chose some gross smoothie place that only served sandwiches on whole grain bread and everyone hated it. Before that, Luna dragged them to the Hard Rock Cafe in Elk Park - the music was so loud you couldn't even taste your food. Before that, Lincoln had them eating at some comic book themed place where the waiters dressed like Superheros. It was so dorky.
This time around, though, it was going to be worse than all of those places combined: It was Luan's month, and, being Luan, she picked a comedy club where the food was as bad as the jokes. Lynn would rather stick a fork in her eye than go there.
Which is why she wasn't going to go, heh.
It was Friday night, and she lay under the covers, a thermometer jutting from her lips and an icepack resting on her forehead. Mom sat on the edge of the bed and wore a worried expression. She leaned over, plucked the thermometer out, and looked at it. "Lynn, you're burning up," she fussed.
That's because Lynn did a bunch of cardio before Mom came up, but shhhh. "Yeah, I'm really t-tired, too," she said and shivered. She really wanted to sell it; should she throw up on herself? Nah, that might be going too far.
Mom sighed. "I guess we'll cancel our reservations at the comedy club."
Lynn's heart skipped a beat at the prospect of her plans going up in smoke. "N-No," she said, "you and Dad paid a lot for it. I'm fine, I'll just...take a nap." She flashed a weak, toothy smile. Hurry up so I can order my meatball sub and play football in the house, she strained not to add.
Mom pursed her lips. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Lynn said and forced a dry, hacking cough, "I'll be fine. You guys go. Have fun."
That last part almost made her grin. Fun. At the comedy club. Now there's a joke.
Mom waffled for a moment, then got to her feet. "Okay," she said. "You stay right here in bed, young lady. And if you need anything, call me or your father."
"I will, Mom," Lynn said.
Mom left, closing the door behind her, and Lynn drew herself to a sitting position, the icepack falling to one side. She cocked her head and listened to the muffled thumps, shouts, and heavy footfalls of her siblings being herded downstairs. "Alright, everyone," Mom called, "in the van."
Lynn's heart sped up and a grin cleaved across her freckled face. It was working...she was actually going to pull this off. Ha! You're not the only one who can make plans, Stinkcoln. And unlike yours, mine won't blow up on me.
When the house was silent, she swung her legs out from under the cover, crept to the door, and opened it a crack, listening intently and hearing nada. She took a deep breath and darted across the hall to Lori and Leni's room, which faced the street. She dropped to her knees and scurried to the window. Gripping the sill, she lifted her head just as the van backed out of the driveway and went left, disappearing in a glow of taillights.
Lynn smiled.
Oh yeah.
It's party time.
Jumping to her feet, she went back to her room, dropped onto her bed, and kicked her leg onto her knee. She picked up the cellphone, dialed, and held it to her ear. "Luigi's? I'd like a large meatball sub for delivery." She held her free hand out, palm facing away, and pursed her lips in imitation of Lola. Gasp, there's a speck of dirt on my nail! This simply won't do! *swoons*
"You know what? It's Friday and I wanna live a little." She grinned devilishly. "Make it extra spicy."
She hung up and stood. She had the whole house to herself and she could do anything she wanted. Where should she start? So many possibilities, so little time.
Then it hit her.
Going over to the closet, she grabbed her basketball and dribbled it into the hallway, turning and bouncing it between her legs; in her mind, she was going for gold at the Summer Olympics and the only thing standing between her and the net was a big German girl with a blonde bun and a glower on her mannish face. She looked around, saw the ref wasn't paying attention, and threw out her elbow, connecting with Ingrid's big schnoz. Whoops, uh...how do you say sorry in German?
She laid up a jump shot and let fly: The ball arced through the air and hit Lincoln's closed door with a loud thunk. The buzzer sounded and the crowd went wild. Lynn dropped to her knees and held her arms out. Who's the best? I'm the best! She jumped up and did a backwards moonwalk, her socks scraping the carpet. I'm the greatest at any sport you can throw at me, hands down.
Yes, she was aware that that wasn't exactly true, but a girl can dream, can't she? Plus, she was only thirteen. Give it time and she'd be on the cover of Sports Illustrated, dunking on Kobe and LeBron, and endorsing as-seen-on-TV products on late night infomercials. Ahhh. I call that a life well lived.
Breaking her dance, she went over, grabbed the ball, and rushed headlong down the stairs. Parkour time! She jumped off the forth to last tread, landed on bent knees, and whipped around the newel post, ducking the end table and leaping over the back of the sofa. For one glorious moment she was airborne, sailing like a bird, then she came down on the coffee table, stumbled, and nearly fell, but righted herself. She jumped down and streaked into the kitchen, her ponytail streaming behind her like a banner...a banner that screamed LYNN IS THE BEST! She jumped over an imaginary obstacle, then made a sharp U-turn and went back the way she came. Her blood was pumping, adrenaline coursed through her veins, and her heart slammed pleasantly against her ribs - being active was the best feeling ever, how could Lincoln stand to sit on his butt and play video games all day?
She came to a crashing halt at the thought of her brother and sighed. Being active is fun and all, but it's better when you have someone to be active with. She looked around the empty living room and suddenly wished her siblings were here: She could con at least one of them into playing with her. Probably Linc, he was the easiest one to persuade, though Lana liked running around and playing sports too...especially when there was mud and dirt for her to roll around in.
For a moment she considered calling Margo or Polly over to hang out, but decided against it: As it was, Mom and Dad wouldn't be too happy if they found out she was faking. If she brought people over without permission, they'd be even more unhappy. Probably unhappy enough to ground her.
Oh well. She tossed the ball away, went over to the couch, and sat; her face was flush and her breathing was heavy, sweat forming at the crown of her forehead. She'd find sports to watch while she waited for her sub, then she'd play football or something.
She snatched the remote from the coffee table, pointed it at the TV, and hit the ON button. VH1 Classic filled the screen and music blared from the speakers: Some dweeb in a leather jacket and sporting a perm danced around a stage in Spandex while another dweeb shredded a double decker guitar and banged his head. Ew, gross, Luna music. Lynn changed the channel and found wrestling on ESPN: Two guys went at it in a steel cage, one of them gushing blood down the front of his face.
Whoa.
Lynn dropped the remote and leaned forward, her hands clamping on her knees and her eyes widening. Blood guy tried to crawl up the side of the cage to escape, but the other one pulled him off, threw him to the ground, and started kicking him. "Yeah!" Lynn cried and pumped her fist. "Show him what happens to sissies! You think you can escape? Pow!" She threw a punch at the air, then jumped to her feet and followed up with a devastating haymaker.
She imagined her opponent - the biggest, baddest guy in the sport (but not bigger or badder than her) - winding up for a punch of his own; she ducked, shot out her leg to trip him, then hit him with an uppercut to a place the ref wouldn't like if he was paying attention. He wasn't, though; the refs never paid attention when she didn't want them to. Not like in real life: In real life they never missed a stiff arm or a face-mask-grab.
Lame.
She was just getting ready to put her enemy in a chokeslam when someone knocked on the door. Lynn gasped. My sub!
More excited now than she had been all night, she jumped onto the couch, perched on the arm, and leapt off, arms out. There she goes from the top ropes! she could hear Jim Ross screaming. She tucked her knees in, held them to her chest, and did a backflip, landing perfectly on her feet. Yes! Lynn Loud gets another 10. Take that, Lola.
Flush with pride, she went to the door, unlocked the handle, and opened it. A Hispanic boy with a splotchy mustache and dressed in a white shirt stood on the step, a brown paper bag clutched in one hand. A big, dark grease stain covered the bottom and the hot, good smells of meatballs and marinara drifted forth. She unconsciously swiped her tongue across her lower lip and whined like a puppy for a treat. "Evenin', miss," the boy said, "that'll be five fifty."
Lynn dug in her pocket and whipped out a wad of bills. Shut up and take my money!
The boy took them, counted, and handed her the bag. It was heavy in her hand (yeah...heavy with goodness!) and warm. Her mouth started to water. "Alright, ma'am, you have a good -"
Lynn closed the door in his face and skipped over to the couch like a little girl on her way to a candy store, a happy hum on her lips. Balls of meat...and red sauce too...it's so good...I wish I could eat two!
She sat on the sofa and kicked her feet back and forth as she pulled the sub from the bag and sat it in her lap. On TV, blood face guy curled up in one of the corners and lay there as his opponent kicked him. When the match started, she was on the kicking guy's side cuz the other one was being a wimp, but now she was shifting to blood face guy's team cuz he was clearly the underdog, and Lynn knew all about being the underdog. Kicking guy needed to get kicked himself. Repeatedly. See how he liked it.
Unwrapping her sub, she picked up one half and stared lovingly into its...uh...subitude, idk. "Hi, boo-boo bear," she said, raising her voice in annoying baby talk to sound like Lori, "like, I am literally starving."
She looked at the sub.
The sub looked at her.
"And I'm literally gonna eat'cha."
She tore a big, saucy bite and ground it between her teeth, the flavors of heaven KOing her taste buds. She kicked her feet faster and rolled her head like that guy on Bizarre Foods when he tried something unexpectedly good. "Now that's how you make a meatball sub, folks," she said into an imaginary camera, "perfect balance of meat and balls with just a hint of sub." She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "I give it a perfect ten. Just like me.' She smiled smugly and took another bite.
When she was done, she rocked from side to side and hummed in appreciation. She picked up the other half and started in; she was getting full but it was sooo good. Her stomach might not want more but her everything else sure did!
She made it three quarters of the way through before she dropped it onto the wrapper and leaned back with a sigh; her guts rumbled in outrage and she let out a long, loud belch. "I'm throwing in the towel," she said.
The sub laughed, picked up the towel, wiped its face with it, and threw it back.
There really wasn't all that much left, and if she didn't finish it now, it'd just hang around until she was hungry again, then she'd eat it - all two bites - and be bummed because she got a teensy little taste but not the full effect.
She picked it up and looked at it for a moment, her stomach telling her no, please, no room! and her brain telling her it only makes sense, dear Lynn. She scrunched her lips to the side in consideration...then shoved it into her mouth. YOLO.
Now she was done.
Time for football.
She stood and almost toppled over. She felt really heavy now.
Oh well. Suck it up and power through. That was her motto and had been since she was a little girl: It meant that when something bad happens, you persevere anyway because quitting is for quitters. Lynn Loud was not a quitter. She was a stayer-on-courser...even when she was wrong. I'm telling you, Lynn, Lisa said, there are fifty states in the US. She tapped the map for emphasis. Lynn counted them, realized she was wrong...then sucked it up and powered through. Nuh-uh, I only count forty-nine. You're the one who's mistaken. Get your glasses fixed and finish kindergarten then talk to me.
At the top of the stairs, she leaned against the bannister and took a deep breath. Whew. Those subs really weigh you down. That means I'll have to run twice as fast. In her room, she looked around for her football, but couldn't find it. She knew she left it behind the door the last time she used it, but the only thing back there now was a broken hockey stick and a pair of old crusty, smelly gym socks. She caught a whiff and her nose crinkled. Ew. Someone oughta pick these up.
She pushed the door against the wall to hide them and went off in search of her football. She checked under her bed, in her dresser, behind her nightstand, in the closet, even under Lucy's bed, but, sister, it was nowhere.
Getting mad, she stood up and put her hands on her hips. Where was it? Footballs don't just walk off by themselves.
Her eyes fell upon the shoe-box sized coffin on Lucy's dresser...then narrowed. That little creep, I bet she…
Walking over, Lynn opened the lid, and sure enough, her football was laid out like a dead body; it was even dressed in a little tux. Lynn rolled her eyes, picked it up, and pulled the suit off. "You're a strange, strange girl, Lucy," she said to herself. "And you're gonna be a dead girl if you keep embalming my stuff."
She tucked the ball under her arm and ambled out into the hallway, the contents of her stomach sloshing sickly back and forth. She saw a good bowl bombing in her near future. But first, the sports!
Tossing the ball into the air, she grabbed for it, but she came up short; her fingertips brushed pigskin, and it bounced through the open door to Lisa's room. She fumbles! Oh, my Gawd, the perfect Lynn Loud fumbles!
Heh. Glad no one saw that.
She went into Lisa's room and looked around, but didn't see the ball. Oh great, where'd it go this time? She turned her head and spotted it lying on the floor of a tall, narrow chamber-like contraption that reminded Lynn of teleporters she'd seen on TV. Another one sat across the room, a big, clunky control panel laden with buttons, knobs, and levers separating them. Lynn felt a rush of apprehension (what is that thing? Is it dangerous?), but her ball was at stake here. It was basically her baby, and what kind of mother leaves her baby alone and scared because she's a wimp?
Not Lynn Loud, that was for darn sure!
She went over, stepped into the machine, and bent to grab the ball; her butt bumped a red button and just as she snatched the ball up, the door slid closed with a whoosh and a siren went off. Her heart rocketed into her throat and she unconsciously hugged the ball to her chest. Uh-oh. I messed up. I messed up bad.
A bright white light filled the world, warm against her skin, and she cried out in holy terror, sure that her flesh was being melted from her bones. The light went out, and her dazzled eyes darted around the chamber. She spotted a panel of buttons, and did the only sensible thing: Bent over and jabbed/poked/slapped all of them, some twice. "Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!"
The machine whirred like a fan, and Lynn's stomach twisted. This is it, Lynn Loud out. What a loss to the wide world of sports I'll be. She squeezed her eyes closed and gritted her teeth, determined to die as she lived: Not a weeping wimp.
As suddenly as it started, the whirring stopped, and the door opened. For a stunned moment she stood there, panting for air and clinging to the ball like a woman to a life preserver, then she stepped out on shaky legs, her head whipping back and forth. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror she didn't know was there, and stopped. Her eyes were wide with fear and her skin was sallow like dough, strands of hair sticking out at crazy angles and lending her a harried appearance.
Jeez, I wasn't that scared.
She tucked the ball under her arm and went over to the mirror, her reflection matching her movements exactly. She put one hand on her hip and smirked. "Not bad looking," she mused and turned her face to the left, then the right. She stuck her tongue out, and her reflection did likewise. She leaned back and favored herself with a lopsided grin. She could be a beauty queen if she wanted; Lola would never win another pageant ever again. Heh. She didn't wanna do that, though; beauty contests are dumb.
Satisfied that she was whole and healthy, she started to turn away, but didn't like the look her reflection was giving her. "You wanna go?" she asked playfully. She reached out to poke her doppleganger's forehead...then jumped back with a cry of alarm when her finger touched warm, living flesh. Her reflection did the same...only the ball slipped from under her arm but not Lynn's.
That wasn't her.
That was someone else.
Lynn and her double stared warily at each other, then Lynn found her voice. "W-Who are you?"
"Who are you?" the other Lynn asked.
"I asked you first."
The other Lynn's face darkened. "I asked you second."
Lynn started to argue, but curiosity was stronger than her stubborn pride. "I'm Lynn Loud Jr."
The other Lynn's forehead creased. "No, I'm Lynn Loud Jr."
Okay, this is really strange. She glanced at the control panel between the two chambers, and caught sight of a screen. On it was an outline of her body, green on black. DUPLICATION SUCCESSFUL flashed beneath it like a neon sign.
That's when it struck her. The...whatever...wasn't a teleporter...it was a cloning machine. And she just cloned herself.
She turned to the other Lynn just as she turned to her, their faces matching shades of shocked. Uh-oh, this was not good. If Mom and Dad found out she made a copy of herself, they'd ground her for sure. From the look in her eyes, Not-Lynn was thinking the same thing. Oh, what do I do? What do I do? What do I do? .I can't brain her and bury in the backyard; maybe I can make her go live with Clyde? He looks like he could use an older sister to toughen him up. Or…
A genius idea struck her. It wasn't a long term solution to her problem, mind you, but, eh, it sounded like fun. "Do you play football?" she asked.
Not-Lynn rolled her eyes. "Do I play football. I'm the best at football."
Lynn shoved the ball into her chest. "Let's put that to the test."
Not-Lynn's eyes narrowed competitively. "You're gonna eat those words, Loud." She turned and went out into the hall, Lynn following behind. This was actually pretty cool. She did always say she was her own best company, now she literally had herself to hang out with. Maybe if -
That thought cut off when the ball drilled her in the chest. Wincing in pain, she stumbled back and fell onto her butt; the air left her lungs in a rush and her teeth clacked together. Not-Lynn snickered and stooped to retrieve the ball from the floor. "Ya gotta be quicker than that."
Flashing, Lynn jumped to her feet. "I wasn't ready," she hissed.
Not-Lynn shrugged one shoulder. "Eh. Ya shoulda been." A mocking light danced in her brown eyes, and Lynn started to snap back, but stopped when she remembered saying the same thing to Lincoln a week ago when she drove the ball at him. And to Lana before him. And to Luna. And to Margo. And to...that didn't matter right now, what did was the stark realization that maybe she could be kind of a jerk sometimes.
Only one thing to do.
Teach herself a lesson.
She snatched the ball away and stepped back. "Alright, let's see how you like it." She waved her hand. "Go long."
Not-Lynn angled her brows down in a V and backed up to the head of the stairs, her muscles coiling like a spring. If she was anything like Lynn, she was focused entirely on the ball, her whole body tense in anticipation of leaping for the catch. How could she trick herself into fumbling and looking like a doofus? Her eyes went to the stairs, and her brain hatched a simple-yet-still-totally-genius plot. She took up a stance, one foot back and the other forward, and brought her arm up. "You ready, little girl?"
That was the one insult that really got under her skin, and it worked on her doppleganger too; her lips peeled back from her teeth in a dog-like snarl and she rolled her neck. "Give it all ya got, sissy."
"Oooh," Lynn said, "am I getting under your skin, ponytail?"
Not-Lynn's face turned as red as her shorts. Yup. Totally getting under her skin. It's pathetically easy.
Wait…
Nevermind. Lynn cocked her arm back and glanced at the stairs. If she was in Not-Lynn's position, she knew exactly what she would do, and she was counting on her doing the same. "You gonna catch it, baby girl?" Lynn taunted.
"Throw the darn ball," Not-Lynn sneered.
Okay. You asked for it. Lynn snapped her arm crisply forward, and the pigskin tore through the air like a bullet. Not-Lynn jumped up to catch it (pfft, what a show off), and took it right in the breadbasket like a champ. "Lynn for the win!"
Then she fell down the stairs.
"Whoa!"
Thump! Thump! Thump!
CRASH!
Lynn's stomach panged with dread. Oh, no, I killed her!
For a moment she stayed where she was, frozen in place, then, hands fisted nervously to her chest, she forced herself to the top of the steps, her eyes squeezing tight. Please, don't let her be dead; please, please, please. I wasn't trying to kill her, I swear! I just wanted to bring her down a few pegs, that's all. I'm so sorry, let her be okay.
She opened her eyes.
Not-Lynn sat at the bottom of the stairs, her back against the wall and her head swaying drunkenly from side-to-side. If this were a cartoon and not real life, little yellow birds would be circling her dizzy dome like vultures over carrion. She lifted her right arm and extended her thumb. "I'm okay!"
With a sigh of relief, Lynn went down. "You're pretty tough," she said, impressed. She held out her hand and helped Not-Lynn to her feet. The second girl shook her head back and forth like a wet dog, and white dust flew from her hair. Lynn frowned and looked down, her eyes widening in horror: the impact of Not-Lynn's skull against the plaster left a big, nasty, noticeable dent. "Uh-oh," she said. Mom and Dad were going to freak.
Following her gaze, Not-Lynn winced. "Ouch. Your mom and dad are gonna freak."
Lynn threw back her head. "I know," she moaned.
She and Not-Lynn looked at each other, a grin passing between them. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Not-Lynn asked.
"Yes I am."
In the living room, they grabbed an end table from by the TV and carried it over to the foot of the stairs, then sat it against the wall, covering the offending indent. Lynn dusted her hands together and nodded at their work. "They'll never notice," Not-Lynn said.
"I like the way you think," Lynn said earnestly. Not-Lynn might be kind of annoying, but her coolness more than made up for it. "Wanna do parkour?"
Not-Lynn smiled. "Are spicy meatball subs the best food ever?"
Lynn started to reply, but as if on cue, her stomach rumbled, and a bomb dropped into the bay. "Speaking of," she said and held her hand to her quivering guts, "I'll be right back." She turned and hurried up the stairs, stumbling at the top and nearly falling. A jagged bolt of pain sliced through her bowels, and she hissed through her teeth. Aw, man, this bomb's gonna fall!
She rushed to the bathroom, threw the door open, slammed it behind her, and got into position just in time for a blast that made Hiroshima look like a firecracker. Ahhhhh. Sweet release! She threw her head back and drew a deep, contented sigh.
Well, she was probably gonna be in here a while, so...she reached into her pocket but didn't feel her phone. Darn it. She looked down at the magazine rack between the sink and toilet, but the only thing in there was a comic book about teeth Mom brought home from the dentist. The Heroic Timmy Tooth vs Gum Disease Man. Oh, yuck. Not even Lincoln would read this. Sigh. She glanced at the counter and spotted a can of air spray. She considered a moment, then leaned over and grabbed it. Hey, beggars can't be choosers. She tossed it into the air, caught it, and spun it around to scan the back. Ingredients: FDA approved SD Alcohol, Water, Glycerin, Propylene Glycol, Bensophenone-2. May contain fragrance and FD&C Color.
Glycerin? Isn't that the stuff they use in bombs?
Heh. She used something else for her bombs.
And what was that P word? Propylene? Snort. I sell Propylene and Propylene accessories, I tell ya h'what.
Wonder how much alcohol is in here. Can you get drunk on it? Her lips puckered at the idea of drinking air freshener.
Caution: Keep out of reach of children & pets, avoid direct contact with furniture or open flames. Do not ingest.
Do not ingest means don't drink this stuff, doofus. That should go without saying, but lots of people do dumb things...like the cinnamon challenge. That's where you film yourself eating a spoonful of ground cinnamon in under sixty seconds without drinking anything. Lynn would never do that.
Again.
On the upside, it was one of the most popular videos on Luan's website. The people love it when you fall over and start convulsing. Heh. I don't mean to brag, but I can play sports, win beauty contests, and keep everyone in stitches. I'm a triple threat.
She sat the spray aside, grabbed a wad of toilet paper, and wiped. Done, she yanked up her shorts, washed her hands, and went out into the hall. Now, to parkour with Not-Lynn. Hmm...maybe I should start calling her something else. Lynn 2? Lynn Lite? Diet Lynn?
Eh, she'd think of something later.
Tumbling down the stairs, she went into the living room. "Alright, I'm -"
The words died on her lips.
A group of five Lynns stood in a circle behind the couch kicking a hacky-sack. Lynn's eyes widened and her jaw fell open in a perfect O of surprise. She blinked and rubbed her retinas vigorously, but instead of disappearing, the vision remained. In fact, as she watched agog, a sixth Lynn came out of the kitchen with a Gatorade in her hand.
"Look out below!"
She whipped around and cried out when another Lynn jumped over the bannister from the stairs and landed in front of her.
"That was weak, watch this."
Still another Lynn sprang over the rail, her knees tucked to her chest and her ponytail fluttering behind. She hit the ground in a heap and moaned.
"Pfft, loser." One more Lynn jumped over, stumbling but keeping her feet.
For a moment Lynn simply gaped, her mind blank. Uhhh…what's going on here? Why are there mes everywhere?
She remembered the cloning machine and her heart staggered. Oh no.
Coming alive, she pushed past the Lynn in front of her ("Hey!"), rounded the newel post, and pounded up the stairs. A Lynn appeared at the top and started down, but another Lynn tackled her from the side, hitting her like a freight train and driving her to the floor. "Hey, that wasn't fair!"
"Pfft. Ref wasn't looking so anything's fair."
She reached the hall and ducked left, bumping into a copy of herself. "Watch where you're going, Loud," it snarled and shoved her back. Lynn fell back and wheeled her arms, then hit something and fell over.
A Lynn knelt on her hands and knees, a mischievous grin on her face.
Lynn sat there for a moment and stared, shocked, at all the others hers in the hall. Six. Ten. Fifteen. Some of them wrestling, others tearing down the corridor in a race; one jumped off the wall and fell flat on her nose while another speared one into the wall, knocking a framed panting of a flower to the carpet.
Okay, this was bad. Having too much of a good thing can be not such a good thing, so having too much of a great thing can be a terrible thing, and she was pretty great, so -
A basketball flew out of her room and whacked a Lynn in the head. She fell to the side and landed on the end table; it collapsed under her weight and broke into a thousand pieces. Oh, God, they're destroying the house!
Lynn's heart did a backflip and she shot to her feet. "Stop!" she cried. "Stop!"
None of them listened; they didn't even acknowledge that they heard her. Lynn darted her eyes from one to the next to the next...then to Lisa's door. She started running for it, jumped over a fallen Lynn, hit the other side, and stumbled across the threshold. Three Lynns in lucha libre masks danced warily around one another while three more sat on Lisa's dresser, one recording on her phone, one sniffing the bubbling green contents of a beaker, and the third tossing a football into the air and catching it. Lynn's eyes went to the control panel between the chambers: The screen flashed red, and as she watched, two more Lynns came out of one, looking around the room in awe.
Ahhhh, something was wrong with Lisa's thing! She rushed over to it and pressed her fingers to her temples in a stricken gesture. There were so many knobs, buttons, blinking lights, and switches that she might as well have been trying to read Chinese or something. The chamber spat out two more Lynns, and they joined the previous two in the middle of the room.
Okay, okay, okay, you're smart, Lynn, you can figure this out, you just need to think. Uhhhh...that blue button? Yeah, try the blue button. She slapped it...and three more Lynns came out of the chamber. Ahhhhhhh! Panic gripped her and she started to hyperventilate. She punched a green button next, then turned a knob as far as it would go. "Systems malfunctioning," a robotic female voice said through a speaker, "duplication process engaged."
"Unengage!" Lynn cried. She slapped the screen but nothing happened. "Work!"
A couple of Lynns drifted over and stood on either side of her. "When things don't work for me," one said, then grinned, "I hit them." She balled her fist and smashed it against the screen with a sickening crunch of breaking glass.
Lynn's stomach clutched. "Stop!"
The second Lynn kicked the panel, and a third jumped on it, her feet kicking knobs off and onto the floor.
"Stop!" Lynn screamed. "You're gonna break it!"
Another Lynn climbed onto Lisa's dresser, slapped her elbow, and jumped, landing on the panel like a wrestler onto an opponent.
Like moths to a flame, the other Lynns came over and joined the fray; four rocked one of the chambers back and forth, three battered the control panel with a flurry of kicks, and one splashed green stuff from a beaker on its face. It started to smoke and hiss.
Lynn pulled her hair and screamed in madness. "You're breaking it!"
The chamber toppled cover and crashed to the floor. The Lynns all surrounded it and started kicking it; glass broke, metal dented. One climbed onto the dresser and did a reverse moonsault, landing on the fallen pod like a bomb.
Gah, they're like animals!
Lynn backed slowly away, her hands fisted defensively to her chest. When she bumped into something, she spun with a gasp, coming face to face with herself. "Hope you weren't planning on using the bowl. It's clogged."
Clogged?
Lynn shoved her aside and dashed out into the hall; the bathroom door stood open and the most awful smell she'd ever imbibed rolled out in a noxious green cloud. An inch of standing brown water covered the tiled floor and soaked into the carpet, clumps of dirty toilet paper skimming the surface like icebergs at sea. Lynn's jaw dropped...then someone shoved her roughly aside. "Gang way, I gotta go."
Before she could protest, the door was slammed in her face, and she fell back.
CRASH!
She whipped around and paled: three Lynns lie in a dazed pile on top of Lincoln's door: It had been ripped from its hinges and lay flat on the ground. Lynn's hands went to the sides of her head. What do I do? What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?
Downstairs, something crashed, and she jumped. At a sprint, terrible visions of destruction racing through her head, she shoved through a dense, teeming forests of Lynns and took the stairs two at a time. She jumped off the fourth from the top and landed hard on her feet, her breathing coming in quick bursts and her heart pounding. Oh, man, I hope they didn't break the -
The TV stand was bare, and a group of Lynns stood in a circle like a mourners at a funeral. "Good job, Loud," one said sharply to another, "you broke the TV."
Lynn's heart sank. She went over, then ducked when another Lynn swung past, dangling from the ceiling fan like George of the Jungle from a vine. "Get off of there!" Lynn cried.
A second Lynn hopped onto the coffee table, jumped, and grabbed hold of the fan blade. "Chin ups!" she yelled and pulled herself up, feet kicking. "Get down!" Lynn screamed. Why were they so stubborn? Didn't they realize they were -?
That thought trailed off when a Lynn in the dining room threw a sick curveball at a Lynn standing in front of the window. Window-Lynn swung the bat with a loud crack, and the ball burned through the air like a comet streaking across the night sky. It smashed into an end table, and a framed photo of Lisa exploded into a million glassy pieces. "Nice hit, Loud," five Lynns said at once.
With a loud roar, the fan ripped from the ceiling in a shower of plaster and fell to the floor, crushing three Lynns beneath it. They moaned in pain. Lynn's eyes went to the gaping hole in the ceiling...and that's when her shocked horror turned to rage. Her face flashed red, her fists clenched, and her teeth ground. A Lynn walked over, regarded her quizzically, and took a swig of Gatorade. "Getting under your skin, ponytail?"
Lynn popped. "YES YOU ARE!" she screamed. All activity stopped and every eye turned to her, three dozen furrowed brows, three dozen what's-her-problem expressions, three dozen freckled faces favoring her the way one might a lame-o stick in the mud party pooper. "LOOK WHAT YOU'RE DOING TO MY HOUSE!" She threw her arms out and gestured wildly to indicate the destruction. Broken bits of glass and woods, crumbs, sports bar wrappers, and empty Gatorade bottles littered the carpet; the -
- fire alarm went off.
A Lynn ran out of the kitchen, followed by a cloud of smoke. "Uh-oh!"
Lynn's chest tightened, and she fought her way through a crowd of hers, each one pushing and shoving when she bumped into them, One ground its knuckles into her scalp with a mean-spirited chuckle, and another punched her in the arm. "Auto attack!" One stuck out its foot and she tripped, falling to her hands and knees. "Ref wasn't looking!"
She was so mad by the time she finally got to the kitchen she could run them all over with a thresher. Was she that annoying?
No time to wonder; gray smoke poured out of the open stove and filled the kitchen. Food spattered the walls and counters, empty boxes and bottles drifted across the floor, the fridge stood wide open. She spotted the fire extinguisher on the counter, and ran over. Heart-in-throat, she grabbed it, went over the stove, and aimed the nozzle; depressing the trigger, she held tight as thick white foam shot out. "Parkour!" She whipped around; a Lynn jumped onto the table, then onto the counter, upsetting the drying rack; Lynn winced when it tipped over and crashed to the floor with a clatter of breaking plates and glasses. "Whoops!"
Lynn looked into the oven, saw that the inside was coated and the fire out, and threw the extinguisher aside. She needed to think of something faster or all these hers were going to reduce the house to a pile of rubble...and then wrestle in the ashes. She wracked her brain but couldn't come up with anything feasible.
Call Lisa?
No! If she called Lisa, that would be like giving up and admitting defeat Lynn Loud Jr. never gave up, she powered through even the stickiest of situations. She finished the game even if her ankle was sprained; she gave her best even when there was no chance in heck of catching up with the other team; she never stopped and never surrendered, because that's what little baby quitters do. She was not a little baby quitter and she was not going to call Lisa. She would handle this on her own. She just needed...she needed them to stop for a little while so she could think.
"Admit defeat!"
Two Lynns dueled in the dining room with cardboard wrapping paper tubes. One lay on the floor, the tip of her opponent's weapon lodged in the hollow of her throat.
"Never!"
"Very well." She pressed her foot into the other Lynn's chest, pulled back her tube, and whacked her across the face. Real-Lynn winced. "Ready to surrender?"
"No!"
Whack!
Jeez, that girl needed to give it up and admit when she was in over her head.
Lynn blinked.
Just like her.
Revelation dawned on her and in that moment, she was forced to confront something about herself. She was no different from all the other Lynns currently tearing through the house. She was stubborn, loud, annoying, rude, a pig, played dirty, and…
Was kind of hungry again.
A metaphorical light bulb appeared over her head and winked on. Did she have enough money?
Beating her way through the crowded living room (there were even more Lynns now!), she ran up the stairs and opened her dresser drawer. She pushed aside a confused jumble of socks and underwear, and found her stash, a thick wad of bills saved up from shoveling driveways, mowing lawns, betting on sports games, and delivering newspapers over the summer. She counted and frowned. 120.55. Was that enough? She cocked her head in thought and did the math. It was, but not by much. She'd have maybe five dollars left over.
Her chest twinged with loss and she almost abandoned her plan...then steeled her resolve. She made this mess and it was her responsibility to clean it up.
Grabbing the money, she went over to her bed, sat, and picked up her phone, then dialed. "Hello? Luigi's? I'd like to place an order for delivery."
She waited a second. "Seventy spicy meatball subs."
The person on the other end laughed.
"I'm serious."
They stopped cold.
When she was done, she tossed the phone away and raced downstairs to find an all-out brawl in the living room, Lynns pulling each other's hair, kicking each other's shins, tackling each other, throwing things at each other, and drop kicking each other in the face. Her heart seized and she threaded her fingers through her hair. WHY WERE THEY FIGHTING?
"You're too stubborn!" one cried and punched another in the chest.
"You clogged the toilet!"
"You're a cheater!"
Each accusation made Lynn wince. They were true, all of them; she was a bad person.
She hung her head and took a deep breath. I never realized how sucky I am. But I'm going to change. Promise.
Just as soon as I get them to stop killing one another.
An idea came to her and she cupped her hands to her mouth. "KNOCK IT OFF!"
The battle ceased and everyone looked at her. "This isn't how you settle your problems," Lynn said, her voice rolling over the frozen mass. "You do that on the football field."
Everyone glanced at each other, and five dozen Lynns grinned.
"Follow me!"
In the darkened backyard, the moon shining overhead, Lynn formed two teams of roughly equal size. "Alright, Louds," she said and put her hands on her hips, "first to ten wins the night. No cheating, no unnecessary roughness, and remember the number one rule of football."
"Score touchdowns?" a Lynn asked.
"Demolish the other team?" another questioned and closed her hand in a fist.
"Hit hard?"
Lynn shook her head. "Have fun."
She stepped back and blew a whistle, starting the game. The teams rushed toward each other in a seething mass of humanity...and instantly started fighting. Lynn's smile fell and her shoulders slumped. Maybe it was quitter talk, but she was this close to giving up. They were hopeless. She was hopeless.
Instead, she blew the whistle and everyone stopped. "You guys need to cut it out," she yelled, "you're all stubborn, inconsiderate jerks. I don't know about you, but I started playing sports when I was little because it was fun. Not to win. Not to cheat. Not to smash the other guy into the ground, but because I love it." She darted her eyes from one face to the next, seeing shame and contemplation. "Winning doesn't matter, and if you have fun hurting other people, there's something seriously wrong with you." She sighed. "There's something seriously wrong with me. But I'm going to change that and be a better sport. It doesn't matter if the ref is looking or not, you know the rules and you know right from wrong. If you willingly choose wrong, you have no right to call yourself the best. Anyone can win by cheating but it takes a true champion to win by the book."
All the Lynns on the field cast their eyes ashamedly to their feet. "Now who wants to play ball the right way?"
For a moment, no one spoke, then, from the back of the pack, someone called out, "Me!"
"Me too!"
"So do I, coach!"
"Yeah!"
"Lynn for the win!"
Everyone else picked up the chant until it was a thunderous din that rolled endlessly through the night. "Lynn for the win! Lynn for the win! Lynn for the win!"
The teams separated, lined up on opposite sides of the yard, and went at it again...the right way, this time. Lynn dropped, exhausted, onto the top step and watched her girls play, marvelling at their speed, agility, passes, and catches: One jumped over a pile of fallen bodies, snatched the ball from the air, landed on the other side, and ran it home. When she reached the end zone, she spiked the ball against the ground and did a hip thrusting, arm pumping victory dance.
Lynn blew the whistle and Dancing-Lynn stopped. "Red flag! Excessive celebration!" Lynn called.
"Sorry, coach," Dancing-Lynn said and hung her head.
The game went on for another hour, and by the time it was over, everyone was winded, sweating...and happy. "Good game, Louds!" Lynn called. "Now I want the winning team and the losing team to shake."
Both groups lined up and everyone shook, Lynn standing nearby to make sure no one spit in their hands...a tactic she herself used sometimes. Well, used to use. That was the old Lynn, this was the new and improved Lynn."Come on, troops," she said, "our dinner should be here soon."
She lead everyone inside and had them sit around the living room: Fifteen on the couch, three in the armchair, ten on the coffee table, and countless others Indian style on the floor and the first five stairsteps. To keep them occupied, Lynn put on the TV, deciding on the news instead of wrestling. Wrestling might get them riled up.
As luck would have it, less than five minutes later someone knocked on the door. Oooh, good. She went to it, turned the handle, and pulled it open. Four guys stood on the step, paper bags stacked in their arms. A fifth guy came up the walk with another bag. "Your subs, miss," one of them said, his voice edged with sarcasm. "That'll be 108.99."
Oooh, that would leave her with eleven dollars! She looked at the deliver boys' sweaty faces and quivering arms. They worked really hard.
So did I, though.
Sighing, she took the money from her pocket and handed it over. "Keep the change," she said with a wince. "And just...set them there."
They sat the bags on the porch then left, one of them shaking his head. Seventy subs, she could hear him saying, can you believe that? Kid's not human. Yeah, you wanna see something really wild, buddy? Come back and took a look in my living room. Your head will explode.
From the sheer awesomeness.
Heh, that was a joke.
We're actually a work in progress, but that's okay, Rome wasn't built in a day and neither, for that matter, is good character and sportsmanship. Everyone makes mistakes and gets caught up in things from time to time. A decent person doesn't never make mistakes, they just learn from them.
She brought the bags in four at a time and sat them on the floor. "Alright, gang," she called, "line up."
Several dozen Lynns jumped up and formed a neat single-file line, each taking a sub with a grateful "Thanks, coach," that made Lynn swell with pride. *Sniff* They grow up so fast. When everyone had a sub (with none left over), they sat around the living room and dug in, ripping, tearing, and squinting sauce everywhere. Sigh. They were going to have to work on being slobs, but that's okay, one step at a time.
She crossed her arms. Now to try and figure out what to do with all of t -
The doorknob rattled and Lynn started. She really hoped that was the delivery boy coming back to bask in the greatness of fifty Lynn Loud Jrs. She turned just as Lincoln came in, his head hung. "I really hate that comedy cl -" he looked up and jerked in shock.
Uh-oh.
Too late.
She was gonna get grounded for sure.
Every Lynn in the room looked up, spotted him...and grinned. "Hey, Linc," they said in unison, "wanna wrestle?"
They all jumped up, and Lincoln screamed in horror. Lynn started to yell a command, but they all surged forward and shoved her out of the way. Howling, Lincoln turned and ran out the front door, casting a fearful glance over his shoulder. Everyone else appeared in the doorway just in time to be mowed down by a tidal wave of Lynns. Lynn winced and averted her gaze from the carnage of her family being trampled beneath a hundred feet.
After the last Lynn leapt over their broken bodies, Lynn turned and started to sneak away.
"Lynn Loud Jr.!" Dad yelled from the ground, "you are grounded!"
Aw, man.