Secrets of Droon

Secrets of Droon

Even Specialer Edition

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Or

The Data Loss Banana of DOOM!

Introduction

I do not own Droon. I do not want to. I think Tony Abbott does a fantastic job with it. Geoffrey I did make up, but I take no pride in it, and Mr. Abbott is welcomed to him or any other plot devices I used while writing this. Let that serve as written permission to him.

I do not know if anyone else who reads The Secrets of Droon will like this fanfic, since Droon appeals to a younger audience and the Even Specialer Edition is a more mature brand of humor (not inappropriate – just more ironic). You can of course read it without having read the Droon series, although it is not nearly as funny.

For those few of you who are still tempted, here is how this story came to be.

Me and my sister were sitting around one day reading a Secrets of Droon book, The Mask of Maliban if memory serves. The line I was reading went something like this…

"And out of thin air, Sparr pulled a giant ball of fire!"

Except I was reading it slowly and suspensefully (that is not recognized by my word processor as a word, but I like it). So I got to, "Sparr pulled…"

My sister interjected, at this point, "A microphone!"

I don't remember who came up with the next line, but one of us went on to say, "Sparr sang… Karaoke! Eric… died."

Thus, Secrets of Droon: Even Specialer Edition was born.

It was going to be a spoof. But in the end, turns out it isn't. Droon pretty much spoofs itself, and you can't parody humor. It is, however, a little more over the top, and a bit more macabre at times, and occasionally pokes fun at the little inconsistencies that inevitably crop up in a series of children's books…

The premise is this - After The Hawk Bandits of Tarkoom, the last one before Eric gets powers because powers complicate things, the connection between Droon and the Upper World stops working for the kids. Eight years pass. Then…

Well, you'll see what happens then.

Taidine

PS – This is an old story; my style has since then, I hope, become more sophisticated. Oh well, it's still a good read.

Chapter 1

The Hidden Staircase - Again

Eric Hinkle heard banging in the basement. Resigned to having to pull his father away from the power tools yet again, he fixed his tie, wondering if the horizontal stripes really matched his checked shirt, and headed down the steps.

A box was moving. Of its own accord, it seemed, creeping morbidly across the floor and leaving a wide track in the thick dust. Eric's eyes grew wide behind his fishbowl glasses. The box… was coming… straight… for him!

With a strangled yelp of surprise, Eric tried to run up the stairs backwards but only succeeded in falling, landing sprawled on the floor, and getting dust all over his plaid, collared shirt.

A head poked out from behind the box. "Yo," it said.

"Neal?" Eric gasped in astonishment.

Neal gave him the peace sign. "The one and only."

"But what are you doing here in my basement? I haven't seen you since I was accepted to Harvard!"

"I am here," said Neal, "Because I had a dream."

"Great. Now you're the emo version of Martin Luther King, jr."

"A dream about Droon!"

Well, that got Eric's attention. "Droon! We haven't been there in nearly a decade! I was beginning to think I had made it up." His eyes shone with the memories.

Eight years ago, Eric and his friends had been cleaning out the basement when they stumbled across the hidden entrance to a magical world called Droon. With the help of a princess named Keeah, the wizard Galen Longbeard, and a series of other memorable characters, they had experienced many exciting adventures in defeating the evils that plagued Droon and discovered the values of love, loyalty, and friendship in each heartwarming and moral-laden conclusion.

Keeah had enchanted a soccer ball to float and carry messages when she needed them in Droon, but Neal had lost it at a beachside soccer tournament years ago. The other way they knew to return was when they dreamed about Droon. But none of them had had such a dream in ages - until now.

"Come to think of it," said Eric, breaking the silence into which dust had begun to settle, "I did have an odd dream last night."

"See?" Neal replied, "It's time to go back. First, we have to clear all the boxes away from this door."

The door was the entrance to Droon. It opened onto a closet under the stairs. When the light switch turned off, if the magic was working, a rainbow staircase would appear - whoosh! - and lead the kids (er, teens) to Droon.

Fifteen minutes later, enough boxes had been moved that the door was revealed in all its sorry glory. One hinge looked about ready to come off, and the boards were warped by the constant changes in temperature. Eric looked disappointed. Neal hauled it open, smiled, jumped in, and flicked on the light.

His gelled blond hair brushed the dust and cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. Light glinted off his four earrings as he looked around. "It looks a lot… smaller," he said, "but you'll fit. Come on, Eric!"

Dubiously, Eric stepped in and flicked off the light.

There was no whoosh. A rainbow staircase failed to appear.

Eric shrugged in the darkness and flipped the switch again. Light flooded the closet, illuminating two dejected adolescents. "Guess it doesn't work," Eric muttered.

"I must have been wrong," Neal added.

Eric stepped out, brushing dust from his plaid shirtfront. "Yeah, must have been mist- wait a minute!" He suddenly looked excited again. "What are we missing? What else was present every time we traveled to Droon? Or rather, who?"

Neal snapped his fingers. "Julie!"

Because the current author is so accommodating, it was right at that moment that the doorbell rang.

With much pounding and racket, the boys dashed up the stairs and yanked open the door.

Eric saw what stood on his doorstep and let out a bloodcurdling scream!

Neal elbowed him. Julie raised her eyebrow. "I have had a…"

"Dream about Droon?" Neal interrupted impatiently.

"…revelation. Pink is not my color."

Eric finally recovered a modicum of breath. "Pink… hair!" he gasped out.

Julie, standing in the doorframe, raked her fingers through her shoulder-length bob cut which was, indeed, now a shocking pink. "Geez, calm down Eric. You didn't freak like this when Neal got his tattoo, or-"

"Neal has a tattoo?" Eric sounded nearly strangled with indignation. Neal looked sheepishly down at his Nikes.

"Look, just forget it. Let me in. You said something about Droon?" Julie shouldered past the shell-shocked pair.

Neal, having made a more rapid recovery, whirled smartly to follow Julie down to the basement. He made it two steps before tripping over an untied shoelace and falling on his face.

Eric walked by, mouth hanging open, staring at Julie's hair.

Neal got up. "Trying to catch flies there, Eric? They don't taste very good. Maybe we can get some potato chips instead." He wore a pathetically hopeful expression that Eric and Julie utterly failed to notice. "How about chocolate chips? Your mother still keeps baking supplies in the cabinet over the stove, right?"

Eric 'accidentally' elbowed him in the ribs, and he remained miraculously silent until they reached the basement.

Julie pulled the door open. It creaked alarmingly but failed to collapse under her hands, which reassured them all enough to step in.

It's crowded! Eric couldn't remember it being quite this small. But the three packed themselves in and Neal reached out to flick off the light.

"Ow! That was my eye, you dolt. The light switch is over there!" Julie exclaimed. Neal mumbled an apology, turned, and flicked off the light switch - gently.

Darkness closed in. Eric shifted, the bottom of his loafer meeting something soft and provoking a small squeak from Neal. The dramatic music rose to a climax…

"Neal, turn the iPod off!"

"Oops."

The dramatic music vanished.

Whoosh! A sparkling staircase poured out beneath them like a crenellated rainbow.

Julie opened her mouth. "I-"

Eric slapped a hand over it. "Please don't tell us how much you love that sound."

Neal peered over the railing, squinting. As a matter of honor, he would never wear glasses, but they would have done him a world of good about now. "Eric, Julie, I see tan blotches. We must be above the Panjabarre Hills!"

Eric released Julie and looked down himself. "Those tan blotches are buildings, Neal. This is clearly Jaffa City."

Neal had the courtesy to look embarrassed for a second before dashing headlong down the stairs.

"Neal! You're going to… you'll… uh…" Eric began following at a more sedate pace. "Julie, tell Neal to go slow - ahh!"

Julie had just swept past, riding the banister like a slide at the playground.

Eric fixed his eyes firmly on his loafers. Being this high up had lost its appeal somewhere along the line. One step… two steps…

Several hundred steps later, ground was touched. The ground of Droon.

"Eric? Going to lie down and nap for a while or should we try to find someone we know?"

"We don't need to find them," Neal commented, "They find us."

Sure enough, plunging suddenly from the narrow street nearest to them came a tall woman with mussed golden hair topped by a slim, sparkling tiara. She studied the three newcomers, fingering the silver embroidery on her dark blue robe, and glanced at the fading rainbow of the staircase.

Recognition flashed in her emerald eyes. "Eric, Julie, Neal! It worked! It finally worked!"

"Keeah!" Shouted Eric joyfully.

"What worked?" Julie asked.

Neal sniffed the air, muttering something about fresh bread.

"Oh, I sent a message through the soccer ball for you to come," Keeah said, "Droon is entering dark and trouble times.

"Again?" Neal muttered.