Chapter 1
A Twist in Fate
Meet Melvin Sneedly; he's that kid with the bow tie and glasses. Wait, this is a Melvin story?
"Wait, what," Melvin replied, shocked.
Well, this is different. Uh, let's see where this goes. Ahem, Melvin was an honor roll student at Jerome Horwitz Elementary. He has invented many machines. However, he was also a tattletale teacher's pet.
"Hey," Melvin scolded, "that is uncalled for!"
Well, it's true.
Melvin sighed, "But I want to change."
Oh, well, you're in for a real treat, then. Because one fateful day, things were going to be different. A new art Teacher, Miss DeBranch, was hired by Principal Krupp. Usually, Principal Krupp hiring anyone meant incompetent teachers were teaching classes; they were unqualified. Miss DeBranch would be an exception. She was good at art, and she was eager to teach.
So on her first day, she quickly introduced herself and got the students to practice some shapes. George Beard and Harold Hutchins drew a comic instead, and Melvin caught them.
Melvin raised his hand and said, "Miss DeBranch!"
"Yes," Miss DeBranch said rather condescendingly, "Mister Sneedly?"
"George and Harold aren't following your instructions," He said smugly.
"Well," Miss DeBranch asked, "What are they doing?"
"They're making that ridiculous comic," Melvin said, "Very inappropriate."
"For an art class," Miss DeBranch said, somewhat confused, "I think it would be the most appropriate time to make a comic."
"Huh," Melvin said, stunned.
"In fact," Miss Debranch, "As long as you are in my class, assignments aren't mandatory to get a good grade. But you still have to make something when in here."
Most of the class cheered, but Melvin was horrified.
"However," Miss DeBranch said, approaching Melvin's desk, "I will not tolerate a stuck-up tattletale. If you try to get George and Harold in trouble in my class again, Mister Sneedly, I will send you to the Principal's office. Do you understand?"
Melvin tried to speak but could only nod. He felt mortified and distraught. Then the bell rang, and the class was over.
Chapter 2
The next day
Principal Krupp came into his office and saw a present on his desk. Intrigued, he carefully examined the box to find a tag attached to the ribbon.
"To Principal Krupp," The tag read.
His eyes widened, and he checked around him. He wasn't entirely sure this wasn't a prank of some kind. He didn't hear any small whispering voices or barely contained giggles, the type to indicate that George and Harold had set this up. Mr. Krupp didn't see any cameras to show this was some evil scheme. He seemed to be safe.
Slowly, Carefully, he opened the gift box. Inside was a box of colored pencils, a blue pencil case, a page of colorful star stickers, and a black book with a spiral binding.
Mr. Krupp's curiosity grew; he opened the black book to find it completely blank. He looked at the tag again and flipped it over. It was a drawing book of some kind—it confused Mr. Krupp.
"From Miss Debranch," the back of the tag read.
"How unusual," Mr. Krupp said, "Why would she give me these?"
He tossed the box and put the rest of the things inside his desk. He tried to forget about it.
Hours ticked by as he worked, and boredom began to set in. Mr. Krupp would usually power through these long, tedious tasks with no problem. However, he couldn't get his mind to stay focused today.
Mr. Krupp sighed. His mind went to the sketchbook, so he took it out and opened it with great hesitation. He wasn't sure what he would draw, so he sketched himself. He took his pencil and doodled. Mr. Krupp finished his art with the caption, "Benny." It wasn't the most flattering self-portrait, but it was a start. He began drawing again on the back of the page, eager to try something.
Meanwhile, Melvin was back in art class, painting a fruit bowl. Melvin painted more miniature life-like paintings, and the others were more abstract. Melvin felt a little frustrated at Miss. DeBranch's lack of instruction, but then the unthinkable happened. George used a paint can to splash his canvas in wild abandon, and the resulting splatter caused a bit of color to get on the fruit. Rightfully frustrated, Melvin growled. Then his hand went up.
"Miss DeBranch," Melvin said, "George has contaminated the subject!"
Miss DeBranch seemed upset as well as she came to the scene. She looked at Melvin's painting and then the fruit bowl. She then came to George's still-dripping painting.
"An interesting addition to the subject George," Miss DeBranch noted, "But Melvin, you're doing something unorthodox."
"What," Melvin said, shocked, "But-"
"And," Miss DeBranch said, interrupting, "I warned you yesterday not to intentionally get George and Harold in trouble."
"But," Melvin protested.
"Principle's office," Miss DeBranch said sternly, "Now."
Melvin collected his things and rushed off with tears in his eyes. He rushed to Secretary Anthrope, sniveling and shaken.
Anthrope asked, shocked, "Wha- Melvin?!"
"Miss Debranch sent me," Melvin whimpered, "She said I shouldn't be telling on George and Harold."
"What were they doing," she asked.
"Disrupting Class," Melvin whined.
"So," Miss Anthrope prodded, "What did you do?"
"I was accused," Melvin explained, "of Disrupting class myself with my informing Miss DeBranch of George and Harold's behavior."
"I see," Miss Anthrope said thoughtfully.
Melvin asked, "What should I do?"
"You should probably tell Mr. Krupp," Miss Anthrope said, "I'll tell him you're here."
Chapter 3
A Kruppy Scheme.
Miss Anthrope came into Mr. Krupp's office announcing, "Melvin is here to see you, sir."
Mr. Krupp, flustered and confused, said, "Uh, Send him in."
Miss Anthrope left, and Melvin entered Mr. Krupp's office. He was ensuring to close the door behind him.
"Well," Mr. Krupp growled.
"Principal Krupp," Melvin said, coming to the desk, "I have a complaint about the new art teacher, Miss DeBranch. She's poisoning the other student's minds with the propaganda of creativity. Filling their heads with the notion that they can freely express themselves."
Mr. Krupp was bewildered.
"She's letting George and Harold break the rules," Melvin bluntly explained, "Undermining your authority as Principal."
Mr. Krupp gasped in shock, then snarled, "The audacity!"
"Yes," Melvin agreed, adjusting his glasses, "Quite shocking."
"She needs to be stopped," Mr. Krupp declared, then he seemed to ask himself, "But how?"
They both gave it some thought.
"Perhaps," Melvin suggested, "You should tell her to knock it off with a warning?"
"I'd hate to say this," Mr. Krupp grumbled, "But she didn't do anything wrong. It's likely George and Harold's fault, and they'd probably convinced her to be on their side."
Melvin sighed, "You're probably right."
They both gave it more thought.
Then an evil smirk crept over Mr. Krupp's face.
"I have an idea," Mr. Krupp said with a chuckle, "We can stop George and Harold by using their comics against them."
"Okay," Melvin said and then asked, "How?"
Mr. Krupp's smirk faded, and he thought about it. He looked at Melvin, still thinking. He then began to make a slow move to open a drawer in his desk.
"If I show you this," Mr. Krupp said in a half-whisper, "I want you to promise not to tell anyone else what you saw."
"Uh," Melvin said, getting quiet, "Okay, I promise no one else will know what you tell me today."
Mr. Krupp slowly pulled out a sketchbook and placed it on his desk. Melvin was a bit confused. His jaw dropped when Mr. Krupp opened the sketchbook. Melvin saw the most detailed and realistic drawing of Captain Underpants he had ever seen.
"That's amazing," Melvin muttered quietly and almost involuntarily admitted, "You're so talented."
Mr. Krupp was surprised and got a bit bashful.
"Thanks," Mr. Krupp murmured, "that means a lot."
Melvin thought a bit more and asked in a whisper, "Are you suggesting we make our version of their comic?"
Mr. Krupp nodded, then asked, "Can you help me?"
"Of course," Melvin muttered excitedly, "I'll do whatever you need."
"I can draw pretty well," Mr. Krupp whispered, "but I can't write a story to save my life. That's where you come in; you can tell the comics a story since your spelling and grammar are the most exceptional."
Melvin opened his mouth to the object but quickly closed it and carefully thought about it.
"I don't know if I can write silly little stories," Melvin admitted softly, "I can write a report or essay just fine. I don't think I can be witty with it."
Melvin then looked at Mr. Krupp, a bit nervous.
Mr. Krupp stood up and made Melvin flinch.
"You have more than enough talent," Mr. Krupp said with so much zeal it almost didn't sound like his voice, "You have to believe in yourself! You can accomplish anything if you put your mind to it."
Melvin was so shocked he stuttered, "Oh uh, I-uh, Thank you, sir."
Mr. Krupp said after sitting down, "We start tomorrow, so instead of art class, you come to me."
"Yes," Melvin said, "Sir, I'll do my best."
Then Melvin left the office with a warm feeling in his chest.
Chapter 4
Writing Woes
After School, Melvin's mother was driving them home.
"So," She said, "What homework do you have today?"
"I have to write a report on the history of warships," Melvin explained, "I have a sheet of math, I have a book to read and summarize, and..."
Melvin thought momentarily, "Mr. Krupp was more serious than I have ever seen him. I need to be careful about our secret."
"And," His mother urged, "What?"
"I have to practice creative writing," Melvin said.
"Creative Writing," His mother asked, "For what?"
"Extra Credit," Melvin blurted somewhat involuntarily.
"I see," She said.
Melvin got home with his mom and went into his room. He breezed through the math sheet, history essay, and book report. Double checking that they were flawless. Then he turned his attention to a new sheet of paper. He gave it a date and stopped to think.
"A story about," Melvin said with disgust, "Captain Underpants."
He blew a raspberry and said, "Just saying it makes me cringe."
"But," Melvin sighed, then muttered, "Krupp entrusted me with this task. He would be furious if I didn't, at least, try."
Melvin began thinking some more. He was stumped. He got up from his desk to pace his room. He had no ideas. He stood on his head, hoping the blood rush would help him. Still, he had nothing. He reoriented himself right side up with a sigh and sat back at his desk. The blank page was practically mocking him now.
"This shouldn't be so hard," Melvin scolded quietly, "George does this all the time and barely gets C's. I'm an A-plus student; this should be a piece of cake, not some daunting task."
Melvin then gave this some thought.
"He doesn't do it alone," He reminded himself, "He has Harold to bounce ideas off of or inspire him."
Melvin tapped his pencil, unsure.
He muttered, "Maybe I should do something similar?"
Melvin then wrote as his heading, "Ideas for Captain Underpants Stories."
He sighed, "That's a good start as any."
Before he continued, he felt the ground shake. Softly at first, it grew; it felt like something was approaching with heavy steps. Melvin looked outside, and there was a truck rumbling by.
Melvin sighed, "I swear this house is too unstable for its good."
He then turned back to his desk, still stumped.
"What if," Melvin asked himself, "Captain Underpants wasn't working alone? What if the Toiletastics were a constant instead of an exception? Or even better, he had a sidekick?"
He began to write the idea down, then stopped.
"No," Melvin scolded himself, "That's a dumb idea."
He then scratched the words out.
"Well," Melvin asked, "What does Captain Underpants normally do?"
He then began to write down. He felt his eyes grow heavy and attempted to stifle a yawn. He shook the sleepiness off for a while, but without warning, he fell asleep at his desk.
Chapter 5
Perfect Imperfection
The Next morning, a bleeping alarm from Melvin's watch woke him. Groggily, he adjusted his glasses and turned off the alarm. He tucked his Homework neatly in a folder. Then he turned to the page he had spent the night on. He finished a sentence he left hanging and sighed.
"How am I going to explain this to Father," Melvin asked himself, "Without breaking my promise?"
He then tucked the page into the very back of the folder.
"Perhaps he won't notice," Melvin reassured himself.
Melvin Sneedly's father was already there with coffee and the morning paper. Melvin approached cautiously, clutching the folder. He then tidied himself up and took the folder to the dining room.
Marty looked from his paper to Melvin with a rugged look.
"Morning, Father," Melvin shakily said.
"Morning," Marty replied, giving Melvin a once over before asking, "Did you finish your homework last night?"
"Of course," Melvin said, presenting the folder to Marty. Marty took the folder and opened it. He skimmed over the math page with little reaction.
"Good," Marty said, his tone even. Then he glanced at the history report and smiled a bit.
"Excellent word count use," Marty said, a bit more enthused. He read through the literature homework and nodded.
"Wonderful," Marty said, "Everything seems to be in order."
Melvin sighed in relief, and then Marty turned to the page. His eyes widened.
Marty asked Melvin, confused, "What is this?"
"It's an extra credit assignment," Melvin answered, "for art class."
Marty looked back at the page, then at Melvin. Marty then laughed, startling Melvin.
"Art," Marty said with a chuckle, "What a useless subject."
Melvin asked quietly, "Useless?"
"Oh," Marty said, wiping a tear from his eye, "I guess this is what I asked for when I wanted you to be the best student."
Marty put the papers back in the folder and gave them to Melvin.
"My dear boy," Marty said condescendingly, "I would appreciate it if you steer away from A's for art."
Melvin was confused.
"In fact," Marty said, "I would be proud of you if you work more towards a C or, even better, an F! I'll even make an exception and ask you to omit Art in all further reviews, okay?"
Melvin asked, "Why?"
"You won't need Art," Marty said, "It isn't important to what you want, success. It would hinder you."
Marty put a hand on Melvin's shoulder.
"Try to focus solely on all other subjects," Marty asked, "Okay?"
Melvin said, "Yes, Sir."
Melvin felt a bit uneasy, although he wasn't sure why.
Chapter 6
Later, At School
Melvin felt his worry grow; he was sure something terrible would happen. When it was time for Art, He came to Miss DeBranch's desk in the classroom. Melvin looked tense.
"Yes, Mr. Sneedly," Miss DeBranch said inquisitively.
"Principal Krupp has asked me to be in his office at this time," Melvin said, "Since I cause too much distraction."
"Okay,' She replied and asked, " Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine," Melvin replied, "Have a good day."
He walked to the Principal's office with extreme caution.
"I'm here to meet with Mr. Krupp," Melvin said.
"Very well," Mrs. Anthrope said. Melvin came into the office, making sure to close the door.
"Ah, there you are, Melvin," Mr. Krupp said, and then he asked, "Are you ready to get started?"
Melvin said, "Of course, sir."
Melvin presented the page he wrote last night. Mr. Krupp took it from Melvin, read it over, and paused at the first line, the line Melvin had crossed over.
"Why did you cross this out," Mr. Krupp asked, and he read aloud, "Captain Underpants gains a sidekick."
"It was a dumb idea," Melvin said, "Besides, I wanted to establish what Captain Underpants normally do so we can improve on it."
Mr. Krupp pulled out his sketchbook, opened it, and pulled out a pencil.
"Describe this sidekick," Mr. Krupp requested.
"Well," Melvin said, "How about a super-intelligent robot? He can have many cool weapons, but he's inexperienced with real fights. So he looks to Captain Underpants for help. He could have a green cape to contrast against Captains or have other green accessories. He's all silvery and shiny, with fully articulated joints."
Mr. Krupp was drawing and coloring a little as he listened.
"Uh," Melvin said, catching himself, "But it's silly, isn't it?"
"Well," Mr. Krupp said, turning his sketchbook around for Melvin to see the drawing, "You tell me."
Melvin looked; it was a robot that looked to be shaped after himself. The robot was posed confidently with green glasses on his face and a green bowtie around his neck.
Melvin felt that warm feeling in his chest again, an involuntary smile on his face.
"He's wonderful," Melvin muttered.
Mr. Krupp asked, "What is his name?"
Melvin thought about it, and his hope renewed.
"How about," Melvin said, "Melbot?"
"Brilliant," Mr. Krupp said, "As always. Melvin."
"So," Melvin said, "I also thought we could call our Captain Underpants something else to help distinguish it."
"How about," Mr. Krupp suggested, "The Waistband Warrior?"
"Ooh," Melvin replied, "I like it."
The rest of the hour was spent going back and forth, discussing the little details to shape their new hero. Melvin couldn't recall everything, but he did take plenty of notes for the future.
"This is going to be awesome," Melvin said as he stifled a yawn. He fought his heavy eyelids as he carefully organized his locker between classes.
George and Harold came down the hall and saw Melvin's weary state. They became worried and approached Melvin calmly.
"Hey," George said, "Melvin, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Melvin snarled and then softly yawned. He felt the weight of the sleepless night had made him more irritable and irrational. He could see both the boys were just concerned for him.
Melvin rubbed his eyes and sighed, "I just forgot to go to bed on time last night."
"Oh," Harold said, "That's not good."
George asked, "Do you need to take a nap?"
"No," Melvin replied, "This is the perfect amount of weariness to try this."
He pulled out a sticker sheet of coffee mugs of various sizes.
"Behold," Melvin said, "I was gifted these state-of-the-art caffeine patches with different amounts. Instead of settling for too much at once, I can have as little as half a cup of coffee and be fine."
He carefully peeled off the smallest coffee cup sticker and placed it on his arm. He felt a slight jolt course through his body that shook off the sleepiness.
Harold asked, "What happens when you have too much caffeine?"
"I don't know," Melvin answered, "But I'd rather not find out."
George asked, "Who gave these things to you?"
"My mom," Melvin answered, "She plans to put a whole box of them in the teacher's lounge once she works out the one drawback."
"Drawback," Harold quizzed, "what sort of drawback would a little caffeine cause?"
"How about," Melvin replied, "Intense nightmares when you eventually sleep."
"Yikes," Both boys said.
George asked, "And you're okay with that?"
"How do you think I developed my potent nightmare agent," Melvin reassured somewhat condescendingly, "I know everything my mind could throw at me."
"Okay," George said, "Then, We'll see you later."
They walked off with more concerns. Of course, they would be concerned for their friend.
"We are not friends," Melvin quickly corrected, "We're just on good terms."
Sure, keep telling yourself that. Melvin was hyper-fixated about paying attention to the rest of his classes. It almost didn't register when Miss DeBranch stopped him in the hallway during recess.
"Melvin," Miss DeBranch asked, "Could I talk to you for a minute?"
"You're talking to me now," Melvin pointed out, somewhat annoyed.
Miss DeBranch said, "Privately."
Melvin said with an air of suspicion, "Alright."
He followed Miss DeBranch to her classroom. She went to her desk, pulled out a container of mints, and popped one in her mouth. Then she returned the container to its place and gave a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry I was so hard on you," Miss DeBranch said exasperatedly—this perplexed Melvin.
Miss DeBranch said, "But I doubt Krupp is giving you a detention while you're there."
Melvin was immediately defensive, "He just wanted me to have a place to study my other subjects undisturbed, is all."
Miss DeBranch asked, "Is that so?"
Melvin nodded.
"So you don't want to stop studying," Miss Debranch asked, "Not even if it means you can finally express yourself meaningfully?"
Melvin stopped to think about it.
Melvin then countered, "I don't see the value in quote-on-quote expressing my feelings now when I already have a bright future."
"Is that so," Miss Debranch asked, "Have you seen what your future holds?"
Melvin froze; he could still remember what a horrible monster his future self was. But he shook it off.
"Yes," Melvin said with a bit of dread and then lied, "It's going to be wonderful."
Miss Debranch raised an eyebrow at the idea and asked, "How in the world did you see the future?"
"I can time travel," Melvin answered, stretching the lie, "So I traveled to the future for a peek and saw my success."
Miss DeBranch was intrigued and asked, "What did your friends look like?"
"My," Melvin asked, "What?"
"Well," Miss DeBranch answered, "I hope you will find some friends when you get older."
"Oh please," Melvin scoffed, "I wouldn't need friends when I'm older."
There was a moment of quiet.
"I certainly don't need them now," He snarled quietly, then asked himself, "Why are those two bothering me?"
Miss DeBranch smiled softly and replied, "Maybe they can see you for who you truly are rather than who you pretend to be."
"Oh yeah," Melvin snapped, "And who am I truly?"
Miss DeBranch said, "A kid that yearns to have fun now rather than wait to be grown up."
Melvin was shocked, then he thought about it.
Miss DeBranch asked, "Melvin, do you honestly believe what you feel now is irrelevant?"
"Yes," Melvin said, "I'll just get over it; I know I will."
"That's what my dad told me," Miss DeBranch said, "I'll just forget my pain and move on."
Melvin was intrigued.
"That's the funny thing about feelings like sadness or anger," Miss DeBranch said, "The more you try to bottle them up and seal them away, the more powerful they become when you express them."
Melvin thought it over some more and sighed.
"That would explain so much," Melvin admitted.
"Melvin," Miss DeBranch said, "My classroom is meant to be a safe space for kids and grown-ups alike to express themselves healthily. If you'd like, I can teach you the true power of expression through art."
Melvin hesitated before replying, "I'll think about it."
Miss DeBranch said, "Take all the time you need."
Melvin then dismissed himself as the bell rang. He didn't notice when his nightmare agent fell out of his backpack as he went. But Miss Debranch did and picked up the can. She hid it in a drawer in her desk and waited to see what happened. Melvin went two more nights without sleep as he worked on the Waistband Warrior comic with Mr. Krupp. He kept putting more caffeine patches on his arm when a yawn escaped his mouth.
"I'm going to study with Mr. Krupp as usual," Melvin said.
"Melvin," Miss Debranch said, "You need to catch up on your sleep."
"No way," Melvin refused
"Come on," Miss Debranch insisted, "It isn't healthy for you to deprive your body and brain of rest for so long."
Melvin scoffed, "My brain doesn't need rest to be healthy."
Miss Debranch crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. It was clear she was skeptical.
"I will sleep when I want," Melvin said, then turned to leave. Miss Debranch opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out the can of nightmare agent.
"Not so fast," Miss Debranch said. Melvin turned to her, saw the can, and laughed.
"Do you honestly believe," Melvin chuckled as he asked, "That's going to work on me, its creator?"
Miss Debranch asked, "What makes you so sure it won't?"
Melvin stopped laughing when She pointed the can in his direction.
"You wouldn't dare," Melvin gasped.
Miss Debranch looked away as she sprayed Melvin with the can's contents. He inhaled the nightmare agent. Melvin was immediately hit with the total weight of exhaustion and the calming chemical cocktail that overtook the caffeine in his system. He fell to the floor, asleep.
Chapter 7
Melvin's Nightmare
Melvin sat at a desk in the middle of an empty grey room. He looked around; fluorescent lights buzzed loudly overhead. There were seemingly no doors to this place, but there were three windows. One to his left, one to his right, and one directly in front of him. They were just out of Melvin's reach, but he could see only an inky black void.
Melvin sighed in relief.
"Phew," Melvin said, "it's just this dream again."
The windows started transitioning from absolute blackness to a sickly vomit-green glow.
"Yep," Melvin said, "and now I'll wake up."
Then he heard footsteps from behind him. Melvin turned to see Melvin-borg; he was carrying three bags. Melvin could only watch as Melvin-borg opened the windows one by one and dropped a load into them.
Melvin asked, "Hey, what are you doing?"
Melvin-borg turned to Melvin and answered, "You don't want to grow up to be a monster. So, I figured, Why wait?"
Melvin saw rain pour from above the windows.
"What do you," Melvin began to ask but was immediately cut off. He heard a disturbing symphony from the windows of steel rubbing on a moist, slushy surface. Melvin was forced to listen as something slimy was forcefully fused with something metallic. Melvin-borg grabbed Melvin by the shoulders. Melvin couldn't look away; he couldn't even move. He could barely even breathe.
The fusing stopped, and the strained grinding of grime on gears started.
Then he heard the voices start calling his name.
"Melvin," Moaned corrupted but still strongly electronic voices, "Melvin!"
"I'm here," Melvin shouted unwillingly as if he couldn't overpower himself. The slippery yet steely sounds grew louder, as well as the voices. Writhing shadows darkened the vomit-green glow.
"Join us," They groaned, "Help us be whole again."
Melvin was entirely disconnected from what his body was doing, but he could still feel the movements.
"Come to me," His body said, "so we may reunite."
Then from the windows came three awful amalgamations of metal and mucus.
The first to rear its ugly head to the right of him looked like a gooey mass with wide eyes and iron legs. It gave Melvin a gummy grin.
The second to his left was more spider-like, using claws of steel to drag another blob of that slimy snot. Eyestalks peered out of its core as well.
The third, and by far the biggest, climbed out with large robot hands. It squeezed itself inside, and a big iron grin spread across its face.
Melvin-borg tightened his grip on Melvin with his robot arm as the creatures grew close.
"Allow me to introduce you to my friends," Melvin-borg said.
"Carl," Melvin-borg pointed to the booger blob with robot legs.
"Trixie," Melvin-borg pointed to the slimy pile with robotic spider limbs.
"And Franken-booger," Melvin Borg pointed to the large mass of mucus with metal arms and mouth.
"We've been waiting for you," The Booger bots said in harmony; they were calling out for Melvin; he could recognize their voices.
Suddenly, all three jumped onto Melvin, crushing the desk. It knocked the wind out of his already struggling lungs. They all held his body in a vice-like grip in a tight embrace. He could feel his breath was now dangerously shallow. Melvin was gasping for air, but the four monsters tightened their grip on him hard. Melvin-Borg is seemingly wrapping his arms around Melvin's neck in a choke-hold. Melvin couldn't will his body to even wiggle. The pain in his chest was unlike any he had felt before. These psychos were actively smothering Melvin. If he didn't know any better, he could have sworn that the agony of it all cut into his heart.
Then, when all hope seemed lost, a door behind Melvin opened, and a rush of air flowed through the room—followed by the familiar touch of his rescue inhaler on his lips. With one deep inhale, the pressure on his body dissolved. The villains vanished, but in their place was someone else.
Melvin took a few moments to catch his breath.
"Melvinhaler," Melvin said in relief and then asked, "You're here?"
"Of course," Melvinhaler replied, "I always help those who need me."
Melvin smiled, feeling a little better now that he could breathe again.
Melvin then woke up in Miss Debranch's arms. The contents of his backpack had been unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. Miss Debranch had Melvin's rescue inhaler nearby.
"Melvin," Miss Debranch said with concern, "You had an asthma attack shortly after you fell asleep."
Melvin asked, "What the heck, lady? Are you crazy?!"
He quickly stood up. He took back his inhaler and Nightmare agent. He then cleaned up the mess from his backpack.
The other students came in. Melvin then stormed off, taking another breath from his inhaler.
Chapter 8
Lingering Pain
Melvin pocketed his inhaler and reflected on what he had seen in his nightmare. He has probably been permanently traumatized.
"Yeah," Melvin conceded.
He went to the office but was stopped by Mrs. Anthrope.
"Sorry, Mr. Sneedly," Mrs. Anthrope said, "George and Harold are in there. It's going to be a while."
Melvin took a seat with a sigh. He began to write to kill time and, after a few minutes, realized he was describing his nightmare on the page. He was ready to toss it but remembered he didn't have to show it to anyone and continued to write. He finished writing after an hour, but he hid the pages away. George and Harold came out of the office looking very tired. It was odd, but Melvin dismissed it.
"George," Harold muttered, noticing Melvin. George looked and got nervous.
"Uhh," George said, "Hi Melvin, Why are you here?'
"I study with Mr. Krupp at this time," Melvin replied.
George and Harold exchanged a worried look.
"Oh," Harold said.
"Excuse us for a second," George said. They both went back into the office briefly before leaving. Melvin was confused but went into the office.
Mr. Krupp seemed different, although Melvin couldn't pin down what. The ordinarily stoic Principle was smiling cheerfully.
"Greetings," Mr. Krupp chirped, "You must be Melvin."
"Uhh yeah," Melvin said, then asked, "Did you forget that?"
"No," Mr. Krupp reassured, "I was just double-checking."
"Okay then," Melvin said.
"So," Mr. Krupp asked, "What are you studying?"
"Well," Melvin said, "I've been studying lots of things, but we've been studying Captain Underpants."
Mr. Krupp gasped excitedly, "You're studying me, er him?"
"Why yes," Melvin said and then asked, "Did you refer to yourself as Captain Underpants?"
"Uhhh," Mr. Krupp said nervously, "Yeah."
After a moment of awkward silence, I was passed.
Mr. Krupp explained, "I see much of myself in him."
"Oh," Melvin said, "Interesting."
The school bell rang.
"Phew," Mr. Krupp sighed, "Well, guess our time is up; you go on with your studies Melvin."
"But," Melvin protested, "We haven't even started making our comic."
Mr. Krupp replied, shocked, "We're making a comic?!"
"Yeah," Melvin said, "You have all the drawings in your sketchbook."
Mr. Krupp asked, "I have a sketchbook?"
"Yeah," Melvin replied, "You keep it in your desk."
Mr. Krupp quickly dug through his desk and pulled out his sketchbook. He excitedly looked through it, gazing in amazement.
"Are you feeling alright," Melvin asked, "Mr. Krupp?"
Mr. Krupp replied, "You know, come to think of it, I don't quite feel like myself."
Hint, hint.
"Quite you," Melvin scolded.
Alright.
"Do you need something to drink," Melvin asked, "Or something?"
Mr. Krupp answered, "I could use a drink of water."
Melvin took Krupp's mug and excused himself the fill it at a nearby water fountain. He returned the filled cup to Mr. Krupp.
"Thanks, Melvin," Mr. Krupp said. He took a small sip from the mug. Then closing his eyes, Mr. Krupp splashed the water into his face. He then collapsed unconscious for a few moments before slowly waking up.
"What happened," Mr. Krupp asked, the anger rising in his voice, "Why am I all wet?"
"You splashed yourself with the water I gave you," Melvin replied and then said, "I'm guessing you want to skip today's session."
"I do," Mr. Krupp admitted, " but be back tomorrow; I have some new ideas for you."
"Sure thing," Melvin replied, then rushed to the class he was late to.
Chapter 9
Fun for Me but Not for Thee
It had been a few days since Melvin's odd encounter, but they continued working on their comic. They were finalizing some finer details as they went.
"You've been getting pretty chummy with George and Harold," Mr. Krupp noted.
"No," Melvin quickly corrected, "They're the ones who are getting friendly with me. My loyalty still lies with our cause."
"Maybe we can use that," Mr. Krupp said, "We have a good start for our comics," Mr. Krupp said, "but we need to eliminate the competition. If they plan a prank, you can discourage them from making more comics and report."
"So," Melvin asked, "You're asking me to be a spy for you?"
"Yep," Mr. Krupp said.
Melvin exclaimed, "That's brilliant, sir!"
The following day, Melvin quietly kept George and Harold in sight. Melvin took some time to relax at lunch, but then he was caught off guard when George and Harold sat with him.
"Hey Melvin," Harold greeted him warmly.
"Hey," Melvin replied, on guard.
George asked, "What have you been up to?"
"Not anything of interest to you two," Melvin replied apprehensively.
"Really," Harold asked, "So what do you do when you're not working on your latest Gizmatron 2000?"
Melvin very quietly giggled, then answered, "I mostly just focus on my studies and keeping my mind sharp."
"Oh," Harold said, "I guess that makes sense."
George asked, "How do you keep your mind sharp? Do you have some brain sharpener?"
Melvin rolled his eyes and said, "Of course not; I do things like play chess, listen to classical music, or read thought-proving literature that doesn't have pictures."
George asked, "How do those things help?"
"Yeah," Harold agreed, "It sounds super boring."
"That's because the brain is like a muscle," Melvin said, "The more you exercise it in certain areas, the easier it gets to return to those areas later."
George and Harold seemed unconvinced.
"For example," Melvin said, "You two use your imagination and creative thinking all the time, so you're good at being creative and imaginative. But you lack discipline, focus, and basic self-control."
"Gee," Harold said, "That's the closest thing to a compliment I've ever heard you say, Melvin."
George gave it some thought before saying, "So, by contrast, you've been using your logical, scientific, and calculative thinking for most of your life, so that's why you're so good at doing homework."
"That is correct," Melvin replied confidently.
"But," George continued, "you lack empathy and compassion and have become emotionally constipated."
Harold giggled, "Constipated."
Melvin crossed his arms but thought about it.
"So," Melvin said, "I admit I might have a few things I would consider perhaps learning."
Harold offered, "We can teach you!"
"Yeah," George said, "That way, your learning from the best."
Melvin was still on guard and asked, "What's the catch?"
George smiled softly and said, "No catch, just the offer."
"We know that we haven't been treating you the best," Harold said, "But in our defense, you aren't exactly easy to tell things to."
Melvin uncrossed his arms with a sigh.
George offered his hand to Melvin and said, "All we're asking is that you trust us, and in turn, we'll trust you."
Melvin considered it very carefully. With hesitation, he reached out but quickly shirked away.
"I'll sleep on it," Melvin said, "I'm not ready to make that decision right now."
George put his hand away and nodded.
Chapter 10
Later that Night.
Melvin lay on his bed, thoughts buzzing in his mind. He thought about Miss Debranch's offer. He remembered his promise to Krupp. He remembered the nightmare that sent a pain unlike any he had ever felt into his lungs. He had since hidden the page. He had immortalized the story in words within the most bottomless bowls in his file cabinet. He remembered Krupp's plan. He thought about George and Harold's offer. He sighed, sat in bed, put on his glasses, and started writing a list of priorities.
"Priority one," Melvin wrote, "Keep Operation Waistband Warrior a secret."
(Operation Waistband Warrior was Melvin's way of referring to Krupp's plan of how to use Captain Underpants against George and Harold.)
"Priority two," Melvin wrote, "Let George and Harold know that I..."
He thought about it, but he felt torn. He wasn't sure if trusting George and Harold was a good idea.
"Especially considering everything they put me through," Melvin muttered, "But then again, I did put George and Harold at serious risk multiple times too."
He thought about it more but ultimately didn't finish the sentence.
"Priority three," Melvin wrote, "Tell Miss Debranch to buzz off."
This was obviously because Miss Debranch hurt him physically and not because he didn't want to express himself, right Melvin?
"You are correct in that assessment," Melvin said, "I want to express myself just on my terms."
He put away the list and sighed. The ground started shaking, and he didn't react. Except, it started shaking harder and harder, the walls vibrating, knocking over all the books and inventions he had carefully put on selves. He saw that his favorite mug was about to share the same fate, acting quickly he got out of bed and took it off the self.
"I know this house isn't exactly stable," Melvin thought, "But there's something else going on here than regular traffic."
Then suddenly, the shaking stopped. He quickly rushed to the window to see nothing.
He heard a loud "Crash!"
He turned around and saw some technologically advanced pod in his bedroom. Melvin was caught off guard, but he approached the pod slowly. He gently put his favorite mug safely on his desk.
He asked aloud, "Is this some kind of alien technology?"
Suddenly, the pod opened its top, and Melvin was horrified when the inside of it was glowing the same vomit green he had seen in his nightmares so many times.
"It's just a coincidence," He tried to reassure himself.
Gazing into the light, he came closer to the pod. His arms extended independently; he couldn't even feel them the closer they went. Involuntarily, he reached out to the pod. He then snapped out of it, backing off until he found feeling in his arms.
"Back off," Melvin protested.
A voice emanated from the pod, "But I want to give you power."
Melvin was scared and caught off guard; he knew that voice. It was his voice.
"Power means nothing to me," Melvin said, "If it means I can't prevent myself from being that monster I saw in my future."
His voice cooed, "I can give you the power to become a hero instead."
Melvin thought about it and said, "I call the shots."
"Of course," His voice said. He then reached into the pod and pulled out a long green cape. The pod then flew back up into the ceiling and disappeared.
Melvin gave the cape a once over before putting it on. When he did, He felt a jolt throughout his body. His heart stung sharply when this occurred. It subsided quickly. He turned to his favorite mug.
A peculiar thought entered his mind, "Why have I kept that thing? It's so ugly and doesn't resemble me at all."
Melvin was surprised at the now rising contempt for the object.
He asked himself, "Wasn't it a gift from George and Harold?"
"Exactly," He thought, "All the more reason to get rid of it."
"No," He protested, "Leave it; we have bigger things to worry about."
"Fine," His thoughts conceited.
He then took a glance over at his list of priorities.
"I accept their friendship," He wrote.
"This way, I can learn more about what they plan from the inside," Melvin told himself.
Chapter 11
Double agent
Melvin put the long cape in his backpack before school. At lunch, George and Harold sat with Melvin.
"Hey Melvin," George greeted him with a wave.
Melvin said, "I accept your proposal."
George and Harold were caught off guard.
Harold said, "Well, that was easy."
Melvin said, "Under one condition, I cannot be the target of any more pranks."
"Of course," George reassured, "You'll have full prank immunity from here on out."
Harold asked, "So what can you teach us about studying?"
Melvin retorted, "What do you want to know?"
"Well," George asked, "How do you stay so focused when the topics are so boring?"
"To put it simply," Melvin answered, "They aren't dull to me. You'll find fascinating things when you know enough about any subject."
Harold pressed, "Give us an example."
"Alright," Melvin said, "You probably have toys that glow in the dark. That's caused by a chemical reaction when specific cells get excited under a light. When the light goes away, they maintain that same energy causing the object to glow."
George said, "That does sound cool!"
Harold noted, "That's probably why they don't glow as bright after a while. The cells can only be excited a limited number of times before they wear themselves out."
Melvin was surprised at how easily Harold guessed that.
"Uh," Melvin agreed, "Yeah, exactly!"
George asked, "And other subjects are like that too?"
"Sure," Melvin said, "Like how technically the first colonizers of America were Vikings. It didn't last too long for complicated reasons."
Harold said, "That sounds awesome!"
"It is," Melvin said, "But history is a lot messier when you dig into the details."
"Messy as in good," George asked, "Or messy as in bad?"
"Bad," Melvin answered, "There is a lot of war."
"Noted," Harold said.
"Math is the only one that's hard to make sound fun," Melvin admitted, "It takes a lot of brain power, especially when you get to things like calculus and trigonometry."
George said, "I'm sure you'll help us understand even those concepts interestingly."
"Thanks," Melvin said.
"So," Harold asked, "what creative endeavor are you looking into doing?"
"I guess," Melvin said, "Writing."
"I can help with that," George said.
"So uh," Melvin asked, "Do you have an outline for these things, or do you make it up as you go?"
"For a beginner like you," George advised, "Start with an outline. It will help you see the bigger picture and organize your ideas in one story."
Melvin said, "I do like to keep things organized."
Harold added, "New ideas can strike you like lighting, so keep a notepad or journal handy."
"Makes sense," Melvin said.
The bell rang, ending lunch. Later on, Melvin came to Miss DeBranch with crossed arms.
"I refuse your offer," Melvin told her bluntly, "I'll find my way to be creative without you."
"Fair enough," Miss DeBranch said with a heavy sigh. Then she handed Melvin a permission slip.
"We're going to visit the art museum tomorrow," She explained, "I need one of your parents to sign this so you can tag along."
Melvin said, "Of course."