Spongebrain Smartypants (or Spongebrain for short) was a fourth-grade brain kid (literally an anthropomorphic brain) who was smarter than anyone in his class, including his teacher, Mrs. Strong (a muscle). He had many friends who often came to him for help with their homework, but his closest friends were Hale the Lung (a boy who never stopped talking), Faith the Heart (a girl who was secretly in love with Spongebrain), Phil the Stomach (a boy who could think of nothing but food), and Libby the Liver (a perpetually overworked girl).

It was a typical day in Mrs. Strong's class. The teacher, who looked like a long piece of tendon with arms, legs, eyes, and a dress, was writing a word on the blackboard: NON-SEQUITUR. Turning to her pupils, she asked, "Can anyone tell me what a non-sequitur is?"

Spongebrain, as was his habit, raised his hand. "A non-sequitur is a statement that has no logical connection to the statements that..."

"Titus Andronicus was Shakespeare's first tragedy," Hale the Lung interrupted.

"...precede or follow it," Spongebrain concluded.

"Very good, Spongebrain," said Mrs. Strong. "Can anyone give me an example of a non-sequitur?"

Libby the Liver raised her hand. "The Galapagos tortoise has a lifespan of 200 years," she said proudly.

The teacher shot her a confused look. "What does that have to do with my question?" she wanted to know.

Phil the Stomach, who was stuffing cookies into himself with one hand, raised his other hand. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son," he recited. "The jaws that bite, the claws that catch."

Mrs. Strong held up her hands and scowled. "Enough of this nonsense. Now will someone please give me an example of a..."

"The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here," replied Faith the Heart, "but it can never forget what they did here."

The final frame of the cartoon showed Mrs. Strong wearing a sombrero, playing a guitar, and singing, "My hat, it has three corners, three corners has my hat..."

George laughed so hard at the strip that he dropped the icepack over his right eye so he could clutch his sides. "I'm glad you like it," Binky told him.

"Binky did most of the work on the drawings," said Mavis. "I came up with the joke."

"We're working on Issue 2 now," added Binky.

Holding the cartoon in his left hand and the icepack in his right, George strolled out of the classroom, still chuckling from amusement. The humorous drawing caused him to momentarily forget his worries, but it wasn't long before his mind began again to dwell on his two pressing problems--tracking down the possible alien invader, Dr. Portinari, and getting back at Dudley for punching him. He didn't want a simple rematch; he had never fought anyone, and wouldn't know where to start if he tried. But his bruised eye and wounded pride weren't the only casualties--there was the matter of his sister's honor.

A week's detention didn't dampen Dudley's mischievous spirits, as he was determined to further explore this facet of boyhood. Through the cafeteria he walked nonchalantly, passing by a table where four girls--Francine, Beat, Fern, and Prunella--were eating lunch together. He had legitimate grievances with three of the four; Beat and Fern had persecuted him for using a love potion on them, and Prunella was responsible for the fact that he was a boy. Francine had shown him only kindness, so naturally, she would be his next victim.

"Argh!" cried Francine, bolting to her feet and gyrating as if a swarm of bees had infested her shirt. Dudley turned and made an "innocent observer" face as the other girls attempted to aid Francine and determine what was wrong with her.

When the monkey girl finally regained her composure, she pointed angrily at Dudley. "You did it!" she bellowed, approaching him with an expression of menace. "You no-good, dirty rat!"

Dudley responded in a hurt tone of voice. "I did nothing, and I am deeply offended that you accuse me based solely on my ethnicity."

"I know it was you," Francine insisted. "You were walking by at the exact moment the ice cube went down my shirt."

"Perhaps one of your lady friends is the culprit," Dudley suggested.

Francine looked over her shoulder at Fern, who had been sitting next to her. "It wasn't me," said the poodle girl.

"Why would Fern do a thing like that?" Francine asked Dudley with an incredulous glare.

The rat boy shrugged. "Why would I? You and I have been friends since I arrived here."

"Not since you gave George a black eye," replied Francine, folding her arms smugly.

"That was between me and him," said Dudley. "Now, unless you desire to press formal charges, I'll be on my way."

Unsure of herself, Francine looked back and forth between Fern and Dudley as the boy walked off toward the cafeteria exit.

When he reached the hallway, Dudley was greeted by Molly and Rattles, who wore congratulatory grins. "That was really brave of you," Molly remarked. "Francine Frensky is totally fearless."

"Yeah, she fought me in a dress once," added Rattles.

"It wasn't easy," said Dudley with a hint of sadness. "Francine is one of my best friends."

"You don't need friends like her," Molly told him. "They'll turn their backs on you as soon as you get in a tight spot. We're your real friends. We'll stand up for you, no matter what."

----

"You don't need friends like them," Alan said to Dudley as the two boys walked along the street after the end of school. "They'll turn their backs on you as soon as you get in a tight spot. Just ask Binky. He spent last summer in juvenile detention because of them."

"Whether they are true friends or false remains to be seen," Dudley answered. "But their lifestyle is appealing, and I wish to embrace it."

"That may be harder than you think," said Alan as he pulled open the door to his house. "You see, you and I have something that the Tough Customers don't."

The first sight they saw was Alan's mother, leaning against a wall, her face a mask of disappointment and indignation.

She raised a finger at Dudley. "The principal told me what happened," she announced. "You're grounded until further notice."

The rat boy stopped in his tracks. He hadn't counted on being punished by both the school authoritiesand his foster mother...

"Parents who care," Alan finished his thought.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Mrs. Powers told the sulking Dudley as he shuffled into the living room.

"Indeed I should," acknowledged Dudley. "But strangely enough, I'm not. Maybe boys feel less shame than girls." Taking a seat on the couch, he picked up the remote and made a Bunny League episode appear on the TV screen.

"I'm a boy, and I feel plenty of shame," said Alan, dropping onto the couch next to him.

"Then perhaps not all boys are alike," mused Dudley. "Some boys are good by nature, while others are bad. I was turned into a boy by an evil spell, so perhaps that makes me a bad boy."

On the screen, the Bunny League struggled to rescue the captured Bionic Bunny from the grasp of Scrim, the sinister leader of an alien invasion force.

"You won't get away with this, Scrim!" barked Bionic Bunny, who was shackled hand and foot with reinforced steel chains.

"I have heard enough of your doomed cliches," snarled the diminutive Scrim. "Your puny doomed defenses are no match for our superior dooming technology. Soon your doomed planet and its filthy doomed human inhabitants will be under our dooming control! Muwahahaha!"

The grim scene was also followed by George, who sat in his living room with a black-and-blue right eye. His mother approached him with a glass of water in one hand and a pill in the other, saying, "Here's your aspirin, dear."

George washed the painkiller down his throat without removing his eyes from the screen. "You watch too many of those space shows," Mrs. Nordgren admonished him. "I'm afraid you'll lose the ability to tell fantasy from reality."

"Don't be silly, Mom," George responded. "This is fantasy. The show about the people who get plastic surgery to look like celebrities...that's reality."

As his mother shook her head and walked away, George wondered whether an actual alien attack on Earth would be as devastating as what Scrim and the other space overlords on TV threatened to unleash. Would the planet remain livable? Would humans become slaves? Would their brains be removed from their bodies and used to control machines?

Maybe I'm crazy for believing in aliens, he thought. But Buster's not crazy. He wouldn't lie about something so important. I've got to find this Portinari guy...but I have no idea where to look.

----

It so happened that Portinari was with Augusta Winslow, looking over a small pastel-green house in a neighborhood on the west end of Elwood City.

"And there's plenty of space in the yard," said the attractively-dressed rabbit woman, who held a clipboard in one hand, "so you can add a third bedroom, if you ever need one."

"I like it," said Portinari. "The construction is solid, and the location can't be beat--right next to the bus route."

"If you'd like, I can start running a credit check right now," Augusta offered.

"Please do," replied Portinari. "And one other thing..."

Augusta turned to him and forced a smile. A block away, she noticed two little boys who were learning to rollerblade on the side of the street.

"I'd like to get to know you better," said the bulldog man. "Maybe we could get together for coffee on Saturday."

At first Augusta had difficulty registering what she had just heard, and then she feared how she might react emotionally. It was the first time a man had asked her on a date. Was she ready? How could it hurt? He wasn't bad-looking, and she had to start sooner or later...

"Augusta?"

She snapped to attention, realizing that she had been staring blankly at Portinari for what must have been a full half-minute.

"Coffee," she intoned, trying hard not to stumble over her words. "Yes. I say yes to coffee."

"Excellent," said Portinari. "You've been here longer than I have. Where can one find good coffee in Elwood?"

----

Saturday came quickly, and Maria had done everything in her power to help Augusta prepare mentally for the upcoming rendezvous with Portinari. On the morning of the fateful day, an equally momentous event took place at the Crosswire house.

Muffy had scarcely had time to bathe before she was called into the living room by her parents. Judging by the somber looks on their faces, she guessed that either one of the servants had died or quit, or her lifestyle was about to change for the worse.

Mrs. Crosswire took a deep breath. She was the one who customarily delivered bad news, such as the announcement that Muffy would be transferred to a private school, and it was invariably preceded by a deep breath.

"Your father and I have decided to sell the mansion," she stated.

TBC