Amanda had on her rubber ears again, and under her t-shirt and schoolgirl skirt, rubber leggings, and probably every other piece of the costume, since she also wore the glove sleeves. I guess she still had hopes of getting in my pants again, but it had to be hot and sweaty under all of that.

The computer directed us to `Treasure Chest', a sprawling one floor concrete warehouse with loading docks to one side of the entrance. A couple real Hispanic guys sat on the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the truck dock bumpers as they stared into the cartoon landscape, pointing at things and jabbering away. I saw a skinny white guy in a truck talking to someone on a radio, or, at least, trying to.

A block down from there, we found a glass and concrete structure with a big sign reading Prevenient Insurance.

We also buzzed by a couple more places.

Legitimate Solutions Services Inc. was a two story brownstone structure that shared its upper portion with the Proctology Institute's administrative offices and National Unitarian College.

Its neighbor, despite the weird name, looked like your average banking juggernaut. People crowded within its fenced in smokers patio, taking in the sights.

"It's like an amoeba engulfing a protozoa or something," I said. "Cool World just swallowed them."

"You recognize this stuff?" Dane asked.

I shook my head. "Sadly, yes. Still, I suppose it's better than the Las Vegas incident."

"Seen enough?" Amanda said.

I frowned. "I hope so."

The geography of Cool World is very confusing. We had to take the flying Owlmobile to get from dad's place to Holli's, but it seemed to be a lot shorter distance by car.

In a couple minutes, we traversed a vast desert, parking in the fancy green cul-de-sac in front of the Frank Lloyd Deebes estate, staring at a marble fountain bearing the carved naked image of Holli.

Dad stood out in the desert about a kilometer away with his lawn chair, a table with umbrella drinks, and an easel containing painter's supplies, no canvas.

It was at this easel he stood, painting...the air.

At first, it didn't make sense, his gestures the act of a mad symphony conductor, but as I watched him waving a horsehair sable dripping with cadmium yellow, I noticed a bright yellow blob streaking across the sky. It reminded me strangely of What Dreams May Come with Robin Williams.

Dad dipped the brush head in turpentine until it was clean, then touched the blob with matte black. In a matter of minutes, it developed into an elaborately decorated dirigible, brilliant and sparkling like a jewel in the blue-purple evening air.

In real life, I knew for a fact my dad wasn't God, but here...

"Even I'm not that crazy," I muttered.

Dad gently placed his brush in turpentine, turning around to investigate the sound.

He looked startled to see me. "Son!"

The man frowned when he noticed my outfit. "I see you're having fun."

I shrugged. "I lost a bet. Uh, listen. One of my friends is in trouble. I was hoping you could help. I tried the police department, but Harris..."

"He always was a dick," Dad said.

I told him about Extra and the factory, and while I did this, a little monkey in a suit swapped his drinks.

Dad sighed, plopping down in his lawn chair. He pointed to the blimp. "What do you think? Kind of a throwback to Winsor McCay. Good?"

Noting my blank expression, he said, "Little Nemo in Slumberland. First real comic book ever made. Of course, it was more of a Sunday paper fold-out..."

"Wow!" Dane said. "That's awesome!"

Dad smiled.

He offered her the brush. "Here. You're an artist. Why don't you try something?"

She frowned. "Paints really aren't my forte. I do photography and graphics. Pen and ink drawings. That kind of thing."

He clapped his hands and the monkey rushed to his side like the Roadrunner when it stops for bird seed. Dad ordered it to bring out a set of drawing supplies, and it was off.

I felt a little insulted that he didn't let me try, but he never really encouraged me to do art. I let it pass. "My bird is going to lose his beak. What should I do?"

Dad smirked. "Buy him another one?"

I rolled my eyes. "Funny."

He cupped his hands around his mouth and sang, "A cry goes out both far and near for Underdog! Underdog!"

And then we waited.

The monkey handed Dane a set of pencils, pens and markers.

"So you just draw in the air or something?"

Dad shrugged. "More or less."

I felt a twinge of jealousy as I watched him show her how to paint the sky.

"He's not going to come," Amanda said. "I told you Underdog doesn't like me."

After a few more minutes, just as we all were about to give up, a brilliant flash, like a comet, came streaking down from the sky.

And then there was Spider Pig.

That ordinary dumb pig from The Simpsons Movie. With a cape.

As usual, the animal was not a conversationalist.

"Oh well. It was worth a shot," Dad said.

The caped hairless swine grunted unintelligibly.

"Surely there's another superhero we can call besides Under Pig," I said.

"You have to realize that a sweatshop full of little birdies isn't something a serious superhero would bother with. Most Marvel and DC characters won't touch it."

"Then get a comedic superhero," Dane said. "Like The Tick."

"That's no good," I said. "He'd bumble through everything and make a mess. Probably get us captured or something."

"I'm afraid you're not going to find many serious characters to help you," said Dad. "Unless they're animals."

Dane had just created a flying death ship. Skulls and guns and heavy metal decor. It looked like something from Metalocalypse. "What about the Samurai Pizza Cats?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No way. They're in the bumbling category."

On the top deck of the death ship, a group of zombie-like figures played musical instruments, their speakers belting out the opening riffs to For Whom the Bell Tolls.

I pointed to it. "Can we use that thing?"

Dad seemed hesitant. "I...probably wouldn't. I've actually tried something like that before."

"What about Starfox or Bucky O' Hare?"

Amanda shook her head. "We call those types of characters `spacelocked.' They are too busy fighting wars and such out in space to bother with us on the ground."

"The Ninja Turtles," Dad said. "You used to love them. You were always bringing those dolls to Visitation."

"That's not going to work," I said. "Master Splinter kissed my ass."

"He did what!" Dad cried.

I turned into Kimono Rat. "I meant kicked. He kicked my ass."

Dad gave me a strange look. "Did he kiss you or kick you?"

I rolled my eyes. "He attacked me. So naturally I'm hesitant to go asking him for anything."

"I wouldn't either," Riffraff remarked. "If he attacks you and kisses you on the rump, there's no telling what that guy might do!"

"Do you want me to put you in a cat box?" I growled.

The feline raised his paws defensively. "I just went."

Dad paused in thought. "Remember that Disney movie about the mice who rescue an orphan girl from a wicked lady in a swamp?"

I nodded. "I wouldn't know how to call them. The same goes for the Great Mouse Detective. Plus I think I killed Watson. Anyways, if there's a cat, those guys are history."

Dad jumped to his feet. "I got an idea. Let's go in the house."

And so, with the exception of Dane, we marched across the desert to the house.

Dane was too obsessed with creating things to come along. Even when Riffraff got bored and left her, she remained at the easel.

Dad lead me into the little dojo with the Kung Fu rabbit.

It wasn't Usagi Yojimbo, by the way. The rabbit came from an obscure computer game I could never beat because of the main character's molasses slow movements, and his inability to avoid pits. Or deadly flying suriken. It turns out it was just a problem with my computer's processor. In Cool World, he had better reflexes and speed. That's how he could pull off those Matrix stunts.

His head was elongated like a real rabbit, his eyes more on the sides of his head, his tongue sticking out from beneath his large frontal incisors.

He cinched his black belt around his white karate school gi as Dad explained how I was going to be trained as a martial artist.

"How about we just bring him along and have him do it?" I asked.

"He has to defend my house," Dad said. "Plus, what if he gets captured and you have to do it yourself?"

"I don't know," I said.

"You're fighting Miss Terious. She's not Doctor Doom. Your sister started on a villain just like her." He turned to his daughter. "Who was it again? Judge Minx? Judge Munoz?"

"Myxo," she said. "Evil rabbit with powerful weapons. That's why dad originally hired Chi Chang."

"Still," I said. "I really don't know if I can do all that. I got captured last time..."

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told your sister when someone stole her lunch money at school a long time ago," Dad said. "You're in Cool World. There isn't regular emergency service. The police, as you have learned, are good for nothing. There's no ASPCA, no PETA. Nothing. If someone steals your car, you get it back. It's like the old west. The key is preparation."

"He's right," said Amanda. "And Ninja Rabbit is a really good teacher. I think this might help."

"When your sister was animated, she was an excellent fighter," the rabbit said.

"I'm still an excellent fighter," my sister replied with a scowl.

She walked over to a stack of wooden boards, slamming them with a right handed chop.

"Ow! That hurts!"

Sighing, I approached the stack. "My Tekwando skills are a little rusty, but..."

I did that breath thing you do before chopping. I'm not sure what it does exactly, softens it with chi?

I raised a human knife hand, but when it swung down, it was animated and furry. Five boards shattered under my karate chop. I staggered backwards in surprise.

Riffraff, and Dane, who had slipped in without my noticing, clapped appreciatively.

"Wow," I gasped. "I've never been able to do that."

"How about this?" Amanda said, coming at me with a straight punch.

Without thinking, I blocked it, sending her to the floor with a sweep kick.

As I stared at her sprawled out on the floor, I could see under her skirt, the skin tight rubber leggings attached to garters, and that rubber thong, but all I was thinking was how I shouldn't know how to knock someone to the floor like that. "I know Kung Fu!"

"Show me," the rabbit said in a Lawrence Fishbourne voice.

I followed him to a kumite mat, we bowed, and suddenly I hear someone playing Spybreak by the Propellerheads.

The first minute was great. Suddenly fuzzy and clad in a white karate gi, I threw a punch, blocked the rabbit's attack, then popped him in the face, using a counter strike. My friends and family cheered me on.

But then he caught my foot as I tried a wheel kick to his head, and it's like I'm Popeye with his spinach power depleted. I got thrown through a paper screen, emerging as Little Kid Drew in a karate outfit.

With a yell, I charge at him, swinging my fists. Ninja rabbit just stepped aside, letting me slam into a practice dummy.

I try again, and hit another screen. Dad didn't complain. I guessed he could just draw them back in.

"Stop trying to hit me and hit me!" the rabbit yelled.

I got angrier, punching and kicking and everything I could think of, but he just flung me into a post. "Stop trying to hit me and hit me!"

As a human, I charged and took a swing. He bowled me over.

"A car has fire in its engine," he says as we circle each other. "If fire erupts from the wrong place, the engine burns and the car goes nowhere. Your anger is a fire."

"Do you give this Zen mumbo jumbo to all your students, or am I special?" I gave him my best karate punch, and he dodged it.

"You are special like a boy from a short bus. Channel your anger like a piston."

I kicked. He swept me to the floor.

"I was wrong. A boy from a short bus fights better than you. Breathe. The fire of the dragon burns outward, not inward."

I breathed using that Chinese technique where you make a bowl with your hands and lift it up as you inhale, spreading your hands out and down as you exhale.

I breathed. I kicked. I did a left - right combo that didn't connect.

"Stop trying to hit me and hit me!" He's a frigging broken record.

And so I hit him.

A lot.

I threw him into a post.

Sprawled on the floor, the rabbit groaned, "Your Kung Fu is good!"

Dad put a hand on my shoulder. "I think you're ready."