Back To Basics
by
C. "Sparky" Read

Chapter Six

"Oooh, how I hate maps!" Megavolt crumpled up the map in disgust and threw it into the swamp.

Quackerjack gasped and started forward to rescue the map, but thought better of it as the paper soaked up some of the grey water. "Well, that's perfect," complained the duck sourly, "now how are we supposed to find the place?"

"We can ask directions."

"Oh, sure," responded Quackerjack, folding his arms. He looked around. "Hey, why don't we ask that huge axe-wielding nutcase over there for directions, then?" he said with forced sarcasm, gesturing to a nearby man who was splitting entire trees with a handaxe the size of a halberd.

Megavolt turned around. "Oh! Good idea, Quacky! He looks like a local." And before Quackerjack could stop him Megavolt strode right up to the immense woodchopper and tapped him politely on the shoulder.

"Eh?" snarled the woodchopper, turning his scarred, unshaven face toward the two villains. "Who you? Whaddya want?"

"Excuse me," said Megavolt, ignoring the panicked duck at his elbow, "can you tell us how to get to" here he rechecked something scrawled on the palm of his glove"Grammy Whammy's Hex Shop and Antiques?"

The woodchopper paused, then grinned widely, revealing his yellowed, broken teeth. "Why sure 'nough!" he roared, tossing his axe over his shoulder. The axe embedded itself into a Cyprus tree and remained there, vibrating. "I get all my mojo work done there! Follow me!" And with that the man started up the road.

Megavolt and Quackerjack followed the woodchopper to the end of the road, down a muddy path, and finally to the edge of the bijou. "There 'tis," announced the man proudly, pointing to a small, dilapidated shack half in and half out of the water. The sign hanging precariously above the shack's door read: Grammy Whammy'sYour Last Stop For Hexes, Mojo, Voodoo, and Victorian Lamps. The villains nodded their thanks to the departing woodchopper, then stepped into the shop.

Inside, they were greeted by the overwhelming stench of sandalwood and roasted peppers. They were immediately thereafter greeted by a stout, squat woman with wild grey hair.

"Well, what'll it be, boys?" the woman demanded, scrambling up a stepstool to gain a better vantage point (which was still rather low). "Lift a curse? Turn yer boss into a toad?" She squinted at Quackerjack. "A little cosmetic conjuring, perhaps?"

Quackerjack touched his bill in surprise, then put his hands on his hips in indignation.

"Actually, we're on a mission from Negaduck," Megavolt said.

Grammy's eyebrows shot up as if they were powered by rocket fuel. "Negaduck, eh?" she snarled, suddenly vicious. "Why, that sorry excuse fer pillow stuffin' owes me money, sure 'nough! You boys here to pay off his debt, are ya?"

The jester shrugged. "Um...no, not really..."

Grammy pounced on Quackerjack and clung to the front of his costume. "Well somebody better'd give me my money!" she howled. "Else I start turning you here boys into gater food!"

A few minutes of hasty apologies and the turning out of pockets satisfied Grammy, and she resumed her previous state of calm.

"Now git," she said over her shoulder as she disappeared through the back door. There was a sudden clattering from the back room, followed by Grammy screeching, "I told you not to use my good crockery to feed yer stupid gater!" Moments later, a short overall-clad man (who somewhat resembled Grammy) scrambled out into the shop, closely followed by a huge green alligator. The door slammed shut behind them.

"Sorry, Grammy!" the small man shouted at the door.

Megavolt and Quackerjack nodded at eachother, and they stepped forward.

"Jambalayah Jake!" began Quackerjack enthusiastically. "I never thought I would meet you."

"Eh?" responded Jake, regarding the two St. Canardians. "Hey!" he exclaimed suddenly, "I know you! You big time city criminals! Oooo-weeLookie here, Gumbo!" he shouted to the gator, who had been sniffing at Mr. Banana Brain tentatively. "These boys done traveled a long ways jus' to see us!"

"You bet we have," answered Megavolt. "Sowant a job?"

"Do I?" Jake threw his arms wide. "I only been trapped here in Grammy's Shop for an age! You boys get me out of here, I pay you back real sweet, I guarantee!"

Quackerjack frowned. "Why not just leave?"

Jake shook his head. "Can't. Grammy'd hunt me down like a swamp rat on a holiday!" Gumbo emphasized the point by making rifle-shooting gestures.

"How come?"

Jake glanced at the closed back room door, then leaned in to whisper to the other two (who also leaned in): "I done messed up real bad this last springtime, dropped a whole wagonload of Grammy's hex powders into the bijou. We done have fire-breathing crickets and toads round here for two months'most burned down the store. Now me and Gumbo got to stay here and work the day shift and the night shift 'till we pay Grammy off. 'Till then we can't go noplace else."

Quackerjack dismissed Jake with a wave of his hand. "Oh, that's easy," he assured everyone. "You just need an 'absent-from-school' type excuse, like...uh...we'll tell your grandma you've been drafted, or that there's a woman in Paraguay who knew you when you were kids and now she wants you to come live with her and her butler Hurrillo in her 53-room mansion on a hill overlooking the ocean...something like that."

And so, a few minutes later, when Grammy stepped out of the back room to put a Victorian lamp on layaway for a customer, the stage had been set.

"Eh? What's all this?" she demanded, blinking at the balloons and streamers that now decorated the inside of the small shop.

"Congratulations, Jake," Quackerjack said loudly, pumping Jake's hand up and down in an exceedingly theatrical manner. "You and your alligator have won the grand prize!"

"What grand prize?" Grammy strode forward, shredding streamers and popping balloons with her claws as she walked. "What are you weirdos talking about?"

"Your grandson," Quackerjack explained, "was on a gameshow, and he won the grand prize."

"What gameshow?"

"Uh..." Megavolt thought hard. "The...uh...The Gameshow Where People Win Stuff?"

"Really?" Grammy beamed and clasped her hands together. "I love that one!"

"And," Quackerjack resumed, "he's won an all-expense-paid trip to lovely St. Canard! Off season, of course."

"Why Jake!" exclaimed Grammy, hugging her grandson fiercely, "I'm so glad!"

"Yyou are, Grammy?" Jake asked, astounded.

"Yes!" Grammy pushed Jake away and pressed a piece of paper into his hand. "This here's a list of all the cityfolks in St. Canard who owe me money. Now you make yourself useful, y'hear?"

"Yes Grammy," said Jake obediently.

"Now all of yougit out of my shop!"

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Negaduck turned the page.

So they had dodged his last booby-trap. Bahthat was an inferior bomb anyways. They wouldn't be so lucky next time.

He turned to the next page.

Thanks to this new manual, Negaduck knew he could build another bomba better bombone that would work for sure.

"Thank goodness for the 'Dummies' books," Negaduck muttered to himself.