Chapter 2

"Alright, quiet down everyone," said Mrs Wormwood. "I said quiet! This…is important."

Calvin rolled his eyes skyward. Perfect, he thought. Twelve seconds in and she's already annoying me.

Mrs. Wormwood was an elderly woman with frizzy gray hair and glasses. She almost always wore a green dress with polka dots, and today was no exception. She was also, to the perennial exasperation of both of them, Calvin's teacher in all things, including the class play. The play was optional and so normally a blip on Calvin's radar, but it had become a lot more relevant now that Calvin's mom had forced her son to sign up.

"Now, you know that 1st-grade plays are about eating healthy. But this year, we've decided to have an additional theme," said Mrs. Wormwood, taking out a hat, "So instead of different foods talking about food, it might be poets, or lawyers. You all are going to write down what you want the play to be about on a slip of paper and put it in this hat, then we'll draw a slip and that'll be our theme."

So, she wants to give us the illusion of having a say in the matter. Great, Calvin thought while everyone around him eagerly began to scribble on their slips of paper.

Come to think of it, who were the nerds he was supposed to be working with? He'd been a little busy imagining comebacks to notice.

Taking a look around, he saw a few dozen of the expected geeks, Susie (not that that was a surprise, she'd jump at any chance to suck up to Wormwood), a wallflower or two, and… Moe?!

What was Moe doing in the class play? He was only concerned with two things: contact sports and beating up Calvin. Then again, he looked more confused than he normally did, so maybe he had thought the sign-up sheet was for some team.

"CALVIN!" shouted Mrs. Wormwood, shaking Calvin out of his thoughts. "Put your slip in."

Looking in the hat, Calvin realized that everyone else had already put their slips in.

What to put on his slip… hang on, it'd be neat…

Well, he thought, there's like a hundred-to-one chance I'll get picked anyway.

Calvin scribbled something on his slip and dropped it into the hat.

Taking another look, he could see what some of his classmates had written.

One of them- probably Susie- wanted a soap opera, while another- most likely Moe- wanted a WWE wrestling match.

He fervently hoped that it wasn't a wrestling match.

"Alright then," said Mrs. Wormwood, rifling through the hat, "Let's see what our play is going to be!"

She pulled out a slip and held it up to the light, squinting.

Calvin smirked- the only things with worse vision than her were bats.

He was about to comment on this, when she suddenly declared "Our play will be about superheroes!"

There was a gasp of shock from Calvin. "Wha- that's my slip!" he exclaimed.

"Trust a wimp like you to come up with a dumb theme like that," Moe sneered.

"Well, perhaps you'll feel differently about it once you take center stage, Moe," said Mrs. Wormwood.

"Hang on, what?" said Calvin. "It's my idea- I should get the lead role!"

"Ordinarily, yes. But you are a special case" said Mrs. Wormwood.

"You see, guys?" said Calvin, whirling on the others. "I'm special… and you aren't!"

"Good thing, too," said Susie dryly.

"Alright, teach, where's my script? I got lines to memorize! Understudies to humiliate! Next stop- stardom!" Calvin declared.

Mrs. Wormwood took out an envelope. "As I said before, Moe will take the lead role. As for why, your mother sent me this." She took a letter out and began to read. "'Dear Mrs. Wormwood, I need you to understand this. I signed up Calvin in the hopes he would learn some humility, so DO NOT give him the lead role, no matter what. It should go to someone more deserving.'"

By the time she had finished, Calvin had turned red with shame.

"Pretty explanatory," finished Mrs. Wormwood. "So Moe gets the lead."

Moe started to snicker, and then so did the kids next to him, and soon almost everyone was laughing at Calvin.

"Ha-ha! Your own parents like me over you, twinky!" Moe guffawed.

And just like that, the dam broke.

"Get out of my way!" Calvin snarled, shoving Susie aside (despite the fact that she was one of the few who hadn't been laughing) and storming out.

Mrs. Wormwood looked disgruntled. "Everyone, these are the parts available. Raise your hands- quietly- and tell me which one you want. I'll decide Calvin's role myself."

"Actually, Mrs. Wormwood," said Moe, "I have a suggestion.


Calvin stomped out of school. Having stayed late at the play, he missed the bus and had to walk home.

This made his bad mood even worse, and by the time he got home, he still hadn't gotten over it.

Fuming, he threw the door open and was immediately greeted by a ferocious howl: "REEEEYOOOOOOOOW!"

This was the only precedent to a striped torpedo slamming into him and hurling him back into the front yard. Calvin tumbled across the grass, vision swimming. He finally came to a rest to see what the torpedo really was: a very exuberant tiger.

"You're here, you're here!" Hobbes sang out as he hurled Calvin in the air. "You've been gone so long and it's been so boring, but YOU'RE FINALLY HOME!"

"Jeez, Hobbes!" said Calvin as he crashed into the grass. "Are you a cat or a dog?"

"A DOG!? WHERE? WHERE?" shrieked Hobbes, taking cover behind Calvin.

"I take it back, you're a cat… a scaredy-cat that is," groaned Calvin as he walked inside.

They ascended the stairs into Calvin's room, distinguishable by the "TRESPASS SHOULD YOU SEEK GRUESOME DISEMBOWELMENT" sign taped to its door.

By the time they entered the room, Calvin had finished explaining what had happened to Hobbes.

"Jeez," said the tiger, taking a seat at Calvin's desk. "Your parents really aren't messing with your punishment."

"This is totally unfair!" Calvin shouted, flopping onto the bed. "What did I do to deserve this?!"

"Well," said Hobbes hesitantly, "Our G.R.O.S.S. attack did rack up the bills-"

"Exactly! They're just doing this to torment me!" Calvin declared.

"That's not what I said," sighed Hobbes.

"The worst part, though, is that Moe's taking the lead for my play," Calvin continued. "He's never gonna let me forget this."

"Well, you can try," suggested Hobbes as the phone rang downstairs.

"I guess so," sighed Calvin.

Suddenly, Calvin's mother opened the door. "That was Mrs. Wormwood on the phone," she said. "She wanted me to tell you that you'll be playing the president of Captain Healthy Food Groups' fan club."

"What? Who's Captain Healthy Food Groups?" said Calvin, confused.

"The lead role," said Calvin's mom. "You know, she told me he was the one who suggested your role! You should thank him!"

As he connected the dots, Calvin began to develop an expression of horror. "Do you mean to tell me," he said slowly, "that I will be playing… the president of Moe's FAN CLUB!?"

"Oh yes, I think that was his name," said Calvin's mom.


As Susie walked up the driveway to her house, she suddenly heard an inarticulate scream of rage from the house next door.

It lasted for about ten minutes straight before cutting off abruptly.

What concerned Susie the most was how the heck Calvin had managed to spend so long without breathing.


Mom had left to spare her eardrums, so Calvin and Hobbes were alone.

"This… means… war," Calvin hissed. "Moe will RUE THE DAY HE EVER CROSSED MY PATH!"

"So, he's going to feel the same way about you that everyone does. Gotcha," said Hobbes.

Ignoring Hobbes, Calvin began to pace the floor. "I can't just throw water balloons at him, like I do Susie. I do that because she's a girl. But Moe is more than that, he's… he's A STAIN ON EXISTENCE ITSEEEEEEEEEEEELF! His suffering shall be far, far, worse than anything the human mind can dream of."

"Then how will you come up with it?" pointed out Hobbes.

"Because I'm a living demigod," explained Calvin offhandedly. "Now, the torment Moe suffers needs to be something that will live with him 'till the end of his days… I've got it! Public humiliation."

"Nice," said Hobbes. "But where will we get the public?"

"Most of the town shows up to watch the play, so that's a good place," said Calvin. "Now, what to do to him… ooh, I know! I could paint his costume pink!"

"Okay," said Hobbes, trying to sum it all up. "So on the day of the play, you're going to sneak backstage and paint Moe's costume pink, and he'll have to wear it in front of the whole town."

"Yeah, that's the gist of it," said Calvin.

"This is actually a pretty good plan, for once," said Hobbes.

"I heard that last part," Calvin glowered. "Now then, let's go get the pink paint!"


"Whaddya mean we don't have any pink paint?!" Calvin exploded.

"I mean we don't have any pink paint," said Calvin's dad boredly.

"But why?!" lamented Calvin.

"The only interest you have had in pink for the past four years was staying as far away from it as possible," Dad pointed out.

"Fine," Calvin muttered. "I'll just use red and white paint. That makes pink. We have those, right?"

"Yes, Calvin," Dad sighed, picking his newspaper back up.


The days until the play seemed to blur together. Calvin's parents made him spend every free hour reciting his lines, most of which involved heaping praise upon Moe. Thanks to the… additions Calvin made to his lines, they can't be written here without giving this story a much higher rating.

Soon, the day of the play arrived.

Calvin put up a facade of rage about it, and his parents had to force him onto the bus.

Inside though, he was laughing at how ridiculous Moe was going to look.

This thought remained with him as the bus pulled to a stop in front of the school, and as he walked through the doors.

However, he was quickly jolted out of his mind when he saw the time on the grandfather clock in the lobby.

Uh oh, he thought. The play's starting sooner than I expected. Better hurry!

Calvin rushed towards the auditorium just as students began to file in, and quickly scrambled behind the curtain.

Most of the actors were already there and in costume, although the usually-late Moe was luckily not.

"Calvin!" snapped Mrs. Wormwood. "People are starting to show up. Get your costume on!"

"With pleasure," Calvin grinned as he walked backstage.


Normally, tigers weren't allowed to see school plays, and neither were stuffed animals.

I don't know which of those Hobbes is, but what he definitely is is stealthy.

He had managed to creep into the auditorium through a window and find an empty seat with a decent view.

All of the families filed in, and the lights dimmed.

Hobbes looked behind the seats to see Susie manning the lights.

That was a shame- he had thought she'd be a decent actor.

One rather burly boy with matted brown hair puffed down the aisle and quickly climbed behind the curtain.

Well hello there, Moe. Welcome to the worst night of your life, Hobbes thought as he leaned back with a grin.


All of the costumes were kept in a box. It looked as though most people had already taken theirs, although Moe's costume remained.

Calvin could hear its wearer on the stage, getting yelled at by Mrs. Wormwood for being late.

Calvin didn't have much time, but he could still pull off the plan.

He took the red paint out of his coat, and splattered it all over Moe's costume.

He paused, and picked up the cowl. It was actually pretty neat.

Never mind that- he had to finish pinkifying Moe's garments.

Calvin grabbed the cape, and took out the white paint.

"CALVIN! What is taking you so long back there!?" snapped Mrs. Wormwood as she stomped backstage.

"Yipe!" Calvin jumped, accidentally spilling some white paint on his hands.

He stared down at the stain, and his expression of surprise changed to one of horror as he stared at the pale stain and Calvin's personality took a backseat in his body.


"What's taking so long?" shouted a man in the audience.

Hobbes gulped. The play was indeed taking a while to start, and that either meant the plan was going very well or very badly.

He wasn't sure which was better.


Meanwhile, backstage, Calvin had begun narrating his perception of the situation, although he wasn't exactly spot-on. "Billionaire playboy Calvin has snuck into a rival business to investigate its un-American greed," he declared. "Little did he realize the true horror- the business is owned by RUSSIAN SPIES!"

"What's that about Russians?" asked Mrs. Wormwood, confused.

"The spies have created a deadly substance known as Ink! With a capital "i"! They plan to use an Ink bomb to flood the city with this foul substance, and our hero has just had some poured onto his hands! Miraculously, it has not harmed him, but bonded to his genetic code, and increased his physical ability to stupendous levels! Armed with this power, I shall become… STUPENDOUS MAN!" Calvin shouted, stuffing on the mask and cape.

"Alright, that's it, young man! I have had MORE than enough patience with you! Now take off Moe's costume so the play can begin!" shouted Mrs. Wormwood.

Unfortunately, Calvin was not in a listening mood. "Our hero is confronted by the outcome of distilled Ink… a foul beast known as an Inkman!"

And to Stupendous Man, that was what it was: A thick, black, bubbling creature of sickly liquid in a vaguely human shape. It let out a horribly hungry cry, like nothing that had been heard before: the very essence of fear.

The minds of weaker men would have broken at the sight of that horror. But Stupendous Man was not weak.

"You want a scream, beast?!" he shouted. "I'll give you a scream, a stupendous one! AAAAAAAA-AAAAAA-AAAAUU-UUUGH!"

Red shockwaves emitted from his mouth. The Inkman was flung backward and splattered across the hallway


"What was that yell?" exclaimed a woman in the audience. "It shattered my glasses!"

Calvin's parents exchanged a look, hoping desperately that Calvin hadn't somehow screwed up the play too.

Hobbes paled. Things definitely weren't going according to plan. He just hoped not too much destruction of property would occur.


Onstage, everyone covered their ears. This didn't bode well…

Stupendous Man rounded the long hallway corridor, his cape flying behind him. He stopped short upon the sight of the person who stood before him.

"It's the leader of the spies!" the superhero shouted. "The fiendish seductress, NATASHA!"

"What'd you just call me, Twinky?!" thundered Natasha, a rather burly *ahem* girl with matted brown hair with pink bows in it, and a pink tutu.

"In order to stop the Ink bomb, Stupedous Man must stop Natasha! Luckily, our hero has learned the fighting styles of the world's most deadly animals!" yelled Stupendous Man.

He held his cape up to his head like a hood and rolled his eyes. "The cobra!" he declared.

Everyone onstage slowly stepped away from Calvin.

Moe prepared to punch him as Calvin held up his hands in front of his own face, yelling "the mantis!"

At that moment, Calvin brought his hands down into Moe's solar plexus.

"GHOOOH!" Moe doubled over in pain.

Calvin spun around, turning his back to Moe, and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Now, Natasha, see that democracy shall always triumph over communism!"

With that, Calvin flipped Moe over his head and slammed him to the ground.

WHAM!

Moe lay there, dazed, as Calvin rushed over to the other side of the stage.

"The evil Russians are vanquished! But for the American Way to be truly free, the Ink bomb must be deactivated!"

Calvin grabbed a lever and pulled with all his might, but it wouldn't budge.

He shrugged, climbed on top of the lever, and began pushing at the base with his feet.

Click.

The lever flipped downwards as a rope shot upwards from the base.

Unfortunately, it hooked onto Calvin's foot and dragged him upwards. "Woah- WHAAAAA-" he shouted as he was yanked into the rafters.

CRASH! THUD! "Ouch!" SMAAASH!

To the momentary applause of the audience, the curtains finally opened… only to stop partway and reveal some very surprised kids, one of them stunned, out of costume, and being supported by a couple of other kids.

Amidst many crashes from above, Mrs. Wormwood staggered onstage, her glasses shattered and dress askew. "HAS ANYONE SEEN CALVIN?" she slurred, much too loudly.

"Not so loud!" said one of the kids supporting Moe.

"WHAT WAS THAT?" she inquired, cupping her hand over her ear.

There was a sudden snap from above, and the curtains finally opened fully as Calvin fell down from the rafters. With a jerk, he stopped halfway thanks to the ropes wrapped around his waist.

Taking a look down, he surveyed his handiwork. "America is safe once again, thanks to… STUPENDOUS MAAAN! Our hero flies off into the sunset, in search of further wrongs to right!"

He proceeded to thrust his fists out in front of his face, begin humming the national anthem, and squirming so his rope began sliding towards the side… very, very, slowly.

Hobbes cringed. Calvin's parents looked like they wanted to disappear.

"I'M SORRY, I COULDN'T QUITE HEAR YOU, YOUNG MAN," said Mrs. Wormwood to Calvin.

HUUUURK!

Moe crumpled to his knees and introduced the front row of the audience to his breakfast.

Amidst disgusted cries, Hobbes gingerly slipped backstage and pushed the lever back up.

The curtains began to slide closed as the rope pulled Calvin upwards. He disappeared into the rafters as he finished the last few bars of "The Star-Spangled Banner".

After a couple clunks, Calvin fell out of the ceiling right in front of Hobbes, who caught him by his cape.

"Oh! Hello, citizen!" he said cheerfully.

Hobbes slapped him, knocking off his mask.

The boy let out a moan, and then shook himself. "What happened? Last thing I remember was Wormwood coming up on me and- hey, why am I wearing a cape?!" He noticed Hobbes' look."Oooh… I'm in trouble, aren't I?"


Calvin stormed into his room. "I can't believe this!" he yelled. "First they make me sign up for the play. Now that that's over, they're giving me extra homework at school, and I'm not allowed to leave the house or watch TV! The Amazon rainforest would be better than this place! Hang on…" he trailed off, apparently getting an idea.

If you've been keeping track, that's never a good sign.

Hobbes walked in. "What I want to know is how you pulled off that 'Stupendous scream' thing. I could hear it out in the audience."

"Yeah, I'm wondering the same thing," Calvin considered. "I mean, it's not like I'm naturally good at screaming or anything."

Hobbes raised an eyebrow.


AN: Finally, a new story! Hopefully the next one won't take so long.

As for the whole "evil Russian" thing- this story's outline was written before the Ukrainian Conflict began. It was supposed to be a parody of Cold War hyper-Americanism.