Chapter 2

"3...2...1," chanted Lincoln and Clyde, as they slid the mailer into the postal box. All that stood between them and winning the contest was fate.

"When are we going to know if we won or not?" Asked Clyde.

"Clyde, don't say 'or not,' it's bad luck; wen should know by the end of June."'

"I can hardly wait!"

"Me too buddy. Let's say we head back to the house and play some celebratory rounds of Muscle Fish. I just got the Mariana Trench DLC!"

"You're on!" Said Clyde, enthusiastically. "Last one there has to be player 2!"

Reuben Caldwell stood in front of the postal box, bubble mailer in hand. He took a deep breath. "Well, this is it," he muttered to himself.

They always said that all the greats had to through rejection at least once or twice in their career. It's supposedly what made them better. Stephen King talked about how he kept all of his rejection letters pinned to the wall by a nail. When the nail couldn't support the weight of all the rejection letters anymore, he famously "replaced it with a spike and continued writing." How Reuben wished he could drive up to that pretentious idiot's house and sock him right on the nose.

Reuben knew when he got a rejection letter, he didn't need to hang it up, it went straight into the trash along with the others. Reuben lost count of how many rejection letters he got years ago.

Lots of publishers and editors rained fire down on his ideas before, but Reuben actually felt good about this one. Ace Savvy Meets Doctor Clockwork. Ace Savvy meets the world of steampunk to be specific. He could see it now, getting the cash reward, press conferences etc. It would be glory and attention galore. Finally, the comic community would know what he could bring to the table.

He took one last look at the Ace Savvy commemorative stamp on the mailer and slid it into the postal box. All of a sudden, his heart sank. There was a pang of sudden realization. Who in their right mind would nominate that schlock?

He reached in the postal box and fished around until he grabbed something that felt like his mailer. He looked at it. Yep, it had the Ace Savvy commemorative stamp and all.

Reuben unlocked his apartment door and clicked on the light. It was just how he left it. Ancient takeout boxes littered the coffee table. Dishes were piled up in the sink. Comics were spread out on the floor. He was sure the dust bunnies multiplied again. Home sweet home.

In a fit of rage he tore open the mailer. He wanted to rip every single page out of the comic. That was until he saw the comic in his hand. It wasn't Ace Savvy Meets Doctor Clockwork, it was something else.

"The Revenge of Tarot? What's this?" he asked himself. He sat down on the couch and leafed through the comic. It sure wasn't his comic, it was a zillion times better. Tarot was an infinitely better character than Dr. Clockwork.

He looked at the two names on the cover. "Lincoln Loud and Clyde McBride, huh?" He said. "They've got quite the future in comics...or do they?"

It was like in the cartoons, where a devil and an angel sits on a person's shoulders and tries to help them solve some moral conundrum. He figured the angel would say something along the lines of "don't do it Reuben old buddy, your ship will come in, you just have to be patient. Besides, plagiarism is wrong. That's the first thing they taught you in art school, remember?"

What did he know anyhow? Besides, his voice was being drowned out by the proverbial devil on his shoulders. "You've been waiting for a break like this your entire life! Those kids are young, they'll bounce back. Besides, time to teach them a lesson that you yourself learned a long time ago! Life isn't fair and you don't get anywhere by playing from the rulebook."

Reuben sprang into his study and clicked on his lightbox. All he would have to do is trace the cover and and put his name on it. He didn't feel this great about drawing comics in a long time.

Hours later, he wiped his brow and looked at the finished product. It was perfection.

"It's kinda ironic," Reuben muttered to himself. "This is the best work I've ever done!"

Tense music hummed from the television's speakers. This was the best match that Lincoln and Clyde had all night. Piranhagon vs. Hammerhead Hank. Clyde was on the ropes at 10% health, he mashed the controller buttons like his life depended on it. Unfortunately, it was no match for Lincoln's "Razor-Sharp Warp," the ultimate finishing move. "Yes! That makes us neck-and-neck, you wanna do a tiebreaker?" Asked Lincoln.

"I'd love to Linc, but I should probably head home before my dads think I fell down a well again."

"That's cool, we'll do the rematch some other time. Phone's in the kitchen if you need it."

While Clyde was calling his parents, Lincoln stared off into space. He had been daydreaming about winning the contest ever since he and Clyde mailed the comic.

"Hey Linc, good news!" shouted Clyde.

"You convinced your parents that you didn't fall down a well?"

"No, they said I could spend the night if it's cool with your folks."

"I'll see; Hey Mom?!" Lincoln called out.

"Yes, honey?" Answered his mom, from the other room.

"Can Clyde spend the night?"

"Sure, you still have tomorrow until you have to go back to school."

"Lincoln and Clyde high-fived. So far, this day was going perfectly for them. This was just the icing on the cake. "So Linc, about that rematch?" Asked Clyde, coyly.

Lincoln grabbed his game controller and switched the game to the "select your fighter" screen. "You're on, I'm gonna grind you into chum!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it!"

The clock in the living room read "11:30." Lincoln and Clyde were both passed out on the couch. A bowl containing a few crumbs and popcorn kernels laid at their feet, along with game cases and a tangled mess of wires from the controllers. The soft blue glow of the television illuminated their faces. Rita made her nightly rounds around the children's rooms. After she got all ten girls into bed, she crept down the living room stairs. She turned the TV off and draped a blanket over the sleeping boys.