"Oh, poor Max," Minnie Mouse whispered. "He's worked so hard."

"And I feel like a heel," Mickey said. "When the producers said he was gonna be on the show, he kept backing out of it, and I kept egging him on."

"Come on, guys," Goofy said. "It's not over yet. He's gonna hit his stride."

"Oh, come on already," Timon said as he closed up his cellphone. "Look at 'im up there. No offense, Goofy, but your boy's flounderin'. My boy Simba's gonna wipe the floor with him, just like he's wiped the floor with everyone else."

"Timon, that wasn't very nice," Pumbaa said. "And you're not supposed to be on your phone."

"It's a commercial break. The producers aren't gonna care."

"Yes, they are," Daisy said as she strode off the stage. "Turn it off."

Timon scowled at her and put the phone under his chair.

"What were you doing on the phone?"

"Uh, nothin'. Just—y'know—takin' a call from my Ma."

Daisy pointed a feather to the right. "She's sitting two chairs away from you."

The meerkat went even more awkward. "Bad reception. It is kinda hard to talk with all this chatter."

"No, it's not, honey," his mother said. "Now sit next to me and Uncle Max."

"But Ma—"

"Listen to your mother, Timon," Uncle Max said. "And what were you really doin' on the phone?"

"Never mind," Timon grumbled. "We all know how it's gonna turn out, anyway."

Mickey gave him a wary look, but Timon didn't answer. He slid off his chair and waddled to his family. Meanwhile, Simba was saying to Max, "I'm gonna bury you," and Max looked all queasy again.

"Golly, Max," Mickey muttered. "I'm sorry I ever got you into this..."

Mickey's cellphone vibrated in his coat pocket, and he waited until Daisy's back was turned before he pulled it out and looked at the screen.

It's Pete. We've gotta talk...

Then another message:

You're gonna wanna hear what I have to say...

The theme music boomed across the House, and Mickey flinched in his seat and tucked his phone away.

"Music's rolling!" Daisy said. "We're coming back in five...four...three...two..."


The music soared to its finale as Alex turned to the board. "We've got $36,000 on the board and two Daily Doubles hidden among these categories:

"Before & After…

"TV & Movies…

"Literary Numbers…

"In the Magazines…

"Outer Space…

"And finally, Politics.

"Max, you're in third place. Make a selection."

The canine sighed and picked up his buzzer. Great, here comes the burial..."Let's go with Before & After for $2000, please."

And the clue swelled to fill the screen.

"'First, it's "anything goes" with this Cole Porter hit, then this illuminating Debby Boone cover 43 years later.'

Simba jammed a claw down on the buzzer—

"Max?"

There was a pause, and Max froze in open-mouthed surprise. It's about music—and I beat Simba to it!

"...Max?"

"Oh, sorry! What is I Get a Kick Out of You Light Up My Life?"

"Very good."

"Before & After for $1600, please."

"'The City by the Bay gets a visit from this Atlas Shrugged climactic character.'

"Max?"

"What is San Francisco d'Anconia?"

"Good."

"Before & After for $1200."

"'Jesus compared this object to the Kingdom of Heaven, and Drew Carey—not Bob Barker—could tell you how much it's worth.'

"Simba?"

A flicker of amusement lit up his face. "What is...Pearl of Great Price Is Right?"

"That's it."

"Before & After, $800."

"'The lead singer of No Doubt, then the real name of Lady Gaga.'

"Simba?"

"Who is Gwen Stefani Germanotta?"

"I figured you'd know that one."

"Of course. Before & After, $400."

"'The author of Mere Christianity meets these two explorers of the Louisiana Purchase.'

"Max?"

"What's C.S. Lewis and Clark?"

"Good."

"In the Magazines for $2000, please."

"Take a look at the screen.

"'Making his debut in 1954, this red-headed boy is the mascot for Mad Magazine.'

"Max?"

"Who's Alfred E. Neuman?"

"$2000 for you."

"Politics for $2000, please."

"'This future Presidential candidate earned three Purple Hearts in Vietnam, then tossed them over a fence in 1971.'

"Max?"

"Who's John Kerry?"

"Good, and you're at $11,000."

"Politics for $1600."

"'In 2003, the Bush administration leaked the identity of this secret agent during a phone call with the Washington Post.'

"Max?"

"Who's Valerie Plame?"

"Yep."

"Politics for $1200."

"'All of Russia went blue in teh 2008 presidential election, when this deputy prime minister won the popular vote.'

"Beast?"

"Who is Dmitry Medvedev?"

"Right."

"Politics for $800."

"'Elections were put on hold for two months after the assassination of this prime minister in December 2007.'

"Simba?"

"Who is Benazir Bhutto?"

"Yes, the prime minister of Pakistan."

"Politics, $400."

"'In 2006, Gerald Ford became the oldest living President, taking the title from this President, who died two years earlier.'

"Simba?"

"Who's Reagan?"

"Good."

"Magazines, $1600."

"'This children's story by Frances Hodgson Burnett made its debut in a periodical for grown-ups.'

"Beast?"

"What is The Secret Garden?"

"Yes."

"In the Magazines for $1200."

"Answer: the first Daily Double."

The siren wailed across the house and the icon tumbled onto the screen, and the audience burst into a mighty ovation. Beast laid the buzzer on the podium and managed a smile, but he let out a breath and grew solemn.

"Beast, you have $6,400, and Max is in second with $12,600. You have a chance to catch and pass him."

There was a pause. The chimera stared at the board, weighed the odds in his mind, and nodded in equanimity. "Let's make it a true Daily Double."

Over the applause and cheers, Alex said, "Gutsy move. For $12,800 if you're correct, here's the clue.

"'Seven months after killing 400 people in New England, the Great Blizzard of 1888 was reported in vol. 1, no. 1 of this magazine.'"

He nodded. "What is National Geographic?"

"You got it."

Another massive ovation filled the House, and Beast smiled and sighed in relief.

"You're in second place, and you're still in the game. Select again."

"Magazines for $800."

"'If your children read this magazine, they'll learn to act like Gallant and not like Goofus.'

"Max?"

"What's Highlights?"

"And you're back in second place."

"Magazines for $400, please."

"'New York City mayor Rudolph Giuliani was the 2001 Person of the Year in this magazine.'

"Simba?"

"What's Time?"

"Yep."

"TV & Movies, $2000."

"'In this sitcom's finale, the title character had his adenoids removed and didn't wake up from anesthesia—at first.'

"Max?"

"What's Everybody Loves Raymond?"

"Good."

"TV & Movies for $1600, please."

"'This 2008 TV movie about "the takers and the tooken" is based on a 1959 Lorraine Hansberry play.'

"Max?"

"What's A Raisin in the Sun?"

"Yes."

"TV & Movies for $1200."

"'Some patrons of this 2008 monster movie got motionsick from the jerky camerawork.'

"Max?"

"What's Cloverfield?"

"Correct."

"TV & Movies for $800."

"'It's the final episode of M*A*S*H, and its final scene is Hawkeye Pierce taking off in a helicopter.'

"Max?"

"What's 'Goodbye, Farewell and Amen'?"

"Right."

"Let's finish the category."

"'This TV hero spends a day in real time trying to stop bioweapons, EMPs, and suitcase nukes—all in a day's work (insert expletive here).'

"Max again."

"Who's Jack Bauer, dammit?"

The audience erupted in laughter and applause, and Max flashed a silly grin at Alex. "Come on, I had to say it! I had to!"

Alex chuckled back at him. "I don't think that was meant to be taken literally," he said. "But you just ran that category."

Max let out a breath and smiled as the crowd roared in applause. I'm doing it, he thought. I'm doing it!

"You're at $19,400, Max. Select again."

"Literary Numbers for $2000, please."

"'Yer a winner, Harry: If you catch the Golden Snitch, the game is over and your team gets this many points.'

"Beast?"

He cocked his head, looking for the answer in the back of his mind. "What's…150?"

"Just in time."

He stared at the rest of the category in distaste, then said: "Let's go with Outer Space for $2000."

"The answer:

"'At 62 miles up, it's the unofficial boundary between Earth and outer space.'

"Max?"

"What's the Kármán line?"

"Good."

"Outer Space for $1600, please."

"'At 5 billion miles, this region is filled with comets and asteroids, and a passing star can nudge them toward the Solar System.'

"Simba?"

"What's the Oort Cloud?"

"No."

The lion's face went all confused.

"Max?"

"What's the Kuiper Belt?"

"That's the one."

"Outer Space for $1200, please."

"'Formerly known as "little green men," these spinning stars were discovered by Jocelyn Bell in 1967.'

"Max?"

"What are pulsars?"

"Right."

"Outer Space for $800."

"'These somewhat-stellar objects are powered by a black hole and can be brighter than a galaxy.'

"Max."

"What's a quasar?"

"Right."

"Outer Space for $400."

"'Don't get too close! If you enter this momentous region around a black hole, there's no turning back.'

"Max."

"What's the event horizon?"

"You ran another category."

He let out a breath and balled a fist in triumph as the audience gave him a loud ovation.

"You've hit your stride, Max," Alex said with a smile. "You're in the lead with $25,400, and there's one category left: Literary Numbers."

"$1600, please."

It was the other Daily Double.

The whole house roared with applause, and Max's friends whooped and hollered, but he stared solemnly at the board, bracing himself for his next move.

"Max, you can see the scores," Alex said. "What are you going to wager?"

Max let out a shaky sigh, pondered the odds in his mind, then worked up a smile. "Let's make it a true Daily Double."

A wave of murmurs and gasps crashed across the hall. Beast grew stern, giving Max a look of This had better work. Max kept lifting his smile high, but there was a hint of unnerve in his eyes. Beside him, Simba's eyes began to wander, and his look of complacency was starting to crack.

"Max, this is the largest bet anyone has placed for a Daily Double," Alex said. "If you answer it correctly, you'll not only set a record, but you have a chance to put yourself out of Simba's reach. Here's the clue:

"'Some versions of the Bible tell you to forgive seventy times seven times, but other versions say you should do it this many times.'

Max gulped down a knot in his throat and let out a quaky breath. "I don't know why I'm thinking this, but I'm gonna go for it," he said. "What's...77?"

Alex stared at him with an inscrutable face—and without warning, he smiled. "You're right."

All the pent-up breath in the crowd's lungs exploded in the biggest cheer yet. Max laid his hand on his chest and slumped against the podium, smiling in numb amazement. Beast was clapping for him and laughing in relief, and the smug look on Simba's face was gone.

"You've just set a new record, and you're at $50,800," Alex said over the applause. "Select again."

"$1200, please."

"'This 1956 book by Dodie Smith was originally titled The Great Dog Robbery.'

"Simba?"

"What's The Hundred and One Dalmatians?"

"Correct."

"$800."

"'The tagline of this Ray Bradbury novel is "The temperature at which book paper catches fire, and burns."'

"Simba?"

"What's Fahrenheit 451?"

"And now the last clue:

"'John Buchan was sick in bed when he wrote this novel about a man on the run.'

"Beast?"

"What is The Thirty-Nine Steps?"

"Good."

The audience erupted into another loud ovation, bringing the round to a close.

"What a match," Alex said. "For the first time in 38 games, Simba is not in first place going into Final Jeopardy. He is in second place with $26,000, and Max is in first with $50,800. Beast is in third with $15,200, but he could overtake Simba. It's all going to come down to the wagers and how well our players do with this category..."

With a chime, the category came up on the screen.

"Poetry.

"Players, make your wagers; we'll show the clue in a moment."

Over the roaring crowd and soaring music, Johnny Gilbert said: "Promotional consideration has been paid for by the following: Toontown Wireless—the most talk, text, and data for your buck, and the mouse ears back it up!"

Daisy lifted a wing into the air. "Stand by. We're coming back in three."


Mickey closed the dressing room door and glared at the gargantuan feline. "What's going on?"

Pete gave him a thundering chuckle. "When you opened this place in '01, there was a clause in the contract: The show must go on."

"It has. We've never had to close our doors, not even after all you've done."

"And my compliments to you," Pete said. "During the recession, this place was one tick away from closing its doors. Then when Toontown Studios burned down this summer and you moved Jeopardy! here, you got to keep the place. But there's just a teeny, tiny problem with your plan."

"What's that?"

"One of the contestants shouldn't be on stage."

"What are you talking about?"

"Max wasn't eligible to compete."

"Yes, he was. He auditioned for the show. He passed the test—"

Pete pulled a manila folder out of his coat and peeled away a stack of papers. "Let me regale you with Section 32, Paragraph 4 of the contract: 'No employees of the House of Mouse or Sony Pictures are eligible to compete in Jeopardy! unless their employment is terminated after at least one (1) year of the show's taping.'"

"He did that."

"Oh, he certainly did not. Today is September 8, 2008. Max quit his job on September 9, 2007."

"That is a year!"

"Uh, no, it's not. See, 2008 is a leap year—which means his employment should have ended three hundred and sixty-six days ago. It did not."

"No judge is going to see it that way."

"Oh, yes, they will. I'm the landlord. I decide what is a full year and what is not. I decide what the contract says, not you." Pete smiled and lowered his massive face so that it filled up all of Mickey's vision. "However...there is a way you can end this."

"And what's that?"

"Go to the production booth. Get on the microphone. Tell Daisy to give Max a code word—a wrong answer in Final Jeopardy. And let Simba win."

"That's fraud," Mickey said softly. "There is no way I'm ever gonna do that."

"You might wanna change your mind. 'Cause if Max wins, there's gonna be a scandal, and it's gonna make a charge of fraud look like a speedin' ticket. Jeopardy! Live is gonna be history, your name's gonna be synonymous with nepotism, and the House of Mouse is finally gonna be mine. And what about Max? He's had a hard enough go, breaking his leg and makin' minimum wage at his father's friends' nightclub. After tonight, it's gonna look like you conspired with him—to take Simba down in the match of the century. He's gonna be tarred and feathered for the rest of his life, and it's all gonna be your fault."

Mickey scowled at Pete and shook his head, trying to hide his fear and confusion. This doesn't make sense. How did Pete know when Max quit?

And then it came to him. He remembered a meerkat whispering into his cellphone then looking all guiltless afterward.

Timon told Pete. I'm sure of it.

But he couldn't say it. It would make him look even worse, and of course Pete would find a way to use it against him.

And then his eyes batted toward the door. It was six feet away, and the production room was to the left and three doors down.

"Well, Mick?" Pete said with a cocky smile. "What are ya gonna do?"

Mickey gave no reply.

To be continued...