THE TIME WARP TRIO
book 8
It's All
GREEK
to Me
by Jon Scieszka
PUFFIN BOOKS
ONE
"Nice doggie, nice doggie, nice doggie," said Sam.
The monster barked three times—once with each of its three giant heads.
"A three-headed dog?" Fred pulled down his Yankees cap with a giant paper eye pinned on it. "You have got to be kidding."
The three heads snarled, showed fangs, and drooled and drooled and drooled. They didn't look like they were kidding.
"Down boy, down boy, down boy," said Sam to the dog. "Do something," said Sam to me.
Fred, Sam, and I backed against a cold wet rock. We checked what weapons we had to fight this beast. Sam held a lyre. Fred gripped his aluminum-foil-covered thunderbolt. And I was armed with one gold spray-painted plastic apple. That and our bed-sheet togas were all we had.
Screams and groans echoed in the dim mist all around us. I looked for some way around the growling mad demon dog. He was standing guard over the one and only path out.
"How the heck did this happen?" said Fred. "One minute we're about to go onstage for our school play, the next minute we're in hell."
"I believe it's called Hades, Cyclops head," said Sam. "Since I'm guessing that triple-headed drooler is Cerberus, guard dog of the ancient Greek underworld."
"But that's not real," said Fred. "That's just mythology stuff like in the play. And things like this only happen when we mess with The Book. And Joe swore he locked that thing up. And—"
Cerberus barked madly.
"And Joe? "said Sam.
"Well I kind of..." I said.
"Joe?" said Fred.
"I sort of..."
"JOE?!" said Sam and Fred.
"Okay I stuck The Book in my backpack because Uncle Joe is coming to the show tonight and I was going to give it back to him but when Fred hit The Book and the script with the thunderbolt it must have set something off because that's when the green mist started," I blurted out in one breath.
Sam and Fred looked at me like they were going to kill me.
Cerberus, three-headed dog of Greek mythology, looked at us like he was definitely going to kill us and enjoy eating us.
"I wouldn't say you're a perfect idiot," said Sam. "Nobody's perfect."
The beast was so close we could see its six bloodshot eyes.
"Well, do one of those magic tricks you're always talking about and get us out of here," said Fred.
I racked my brain for any good magic tricks for dogs.
"Sit!" I yelled. "Stay! Roll over! Play dead!"
Cerberus growled and stepped closer.
"Joe?" said Sam nervously. "I don't think this is working."
"This never fails," I said. I picked up a small rock and threw it into the gloomy mist. "Fetch!"
Not one of the three slobbering heads even turned to look.
One head locked its red eyes on Sam. One head stared at Fred. One head zeroed in on me. The thing was so close we could see each thick black hair raised on its back and smell each blast of its roadkill breath.
The last thing I remember thinking was: "What a way to go, eaten by a nasty-smelling monster that isn't even real."
TWO
"I can just hear one of you smart guys out there saying, "How can you travel into Greek mythology? I thought The Book could only travel through time."
Honestly, I have no idea how we ended up facing the three-headed dog of the underworld from Greek mythology.
Well, I have some idea, but it wasn't really my fault.
Okay, it was kind of my fault, but I was only trying to get things back to normal by putting The Book back in Uncle Joe's hands.
See my life has been just too strange for words since my uncle Joe gave me this book for my birthday.
I'm sure you've got books for your birthday before. But this book is like no other book before or since. It's a small book. A dark blue book with odd silver writing and symbols on it. It's a time-warping book.
And yes, I'll admit it. I have no idea how The Book works or how to control it. But I do know it's sent Fred, Sam, and me back to the Stone Age, forward to the future, and even into other books.
One thing that always stays the same is the green time-traveling mist that comes out of The Book. The other thing is that once we go somewhere, the only way we can get back is to find The Book in that new time or place.
Get it? Got it. Good.
Like I said, it wasn't my fault. But here's what I think happened:
Our whole grade was backstage in the school auditorium, five minutes before the first performance of our play The Myth of Power. It was a play about gods and goddesses and mortals and monsters and all that Greek mythology stuff we were studying in school. We had made some great sets of Mount Olympus (the mountain all the gods live on top of) and the underworld, Hades.
The music teacher was the director, so most of the play was about how music is the answer for everything. But we helped write a lot of the scenes, so all the gods and goddesses sounded like a bunch of wiseguys. We also got to make some excellent thunderbolts to throw around, and wrote in a lot of fight scenes for the monsters.
Anyway—that's why we were all standing around at school dressed up in bed-sheet togas. Fred was a one-eyed Cyclops, with an eye pinned on his Yankees hat. Sam was Orpheus, wandering around playing his lyre. I was Paris, the good-looking guy who has to decide which goddess is the fairest and give her the golden apple.
While we waited, Sam was rereading his Book of Snappy Insults for the millionth time. We had been using all the good ones for the past month, and even managed to get a few in the play. Fred was pacing, trying to remember all two of his lines. And I think that's when it happened.
"Help me out, Joe," said Fred. "David says, 'Hey you guys—look!' Then do I say, 'We made those thunderbolts'? Or does Charlie say his line first?"
"Cyclops Fred," said Sam, "if you had to live by your wits, you'd starve."
Fred picked up an aluminum-foil-covered thunderbolt and bopped Sam on the head with it.
I took my script out of my backpack. "Here it is. David says, 'Hey you guys—look!' Charlie says, 'Our thunderbolts.' Then your line is, 'We made those thunderbolts.'" I stuffed the script back into my backpack.
"Something is preying on your mind, Fred," said Sam. "But don't worry. It will die of starvation."
Fred swung his thunderbolt again. Sam ducked. Fred missed. The thunderbolt hit my backpack. Something glowed weirdly for a second inside my backpack. Then my pack started leaking green mist.
I saw the house lights go black. I heard the piano playing the beginning of the first musical number. Our Greek myth play was starting. And Fred, Sam, and I were swirling off in a green mist time tornado farther and stranger than we'd ever gone before.
THREE
Cerberus crouched, ready to spring.
Fred held up his aluminum-foil thunderbolt. Sam tried to hide behind his lyre.
"That's it! "I yelled.
"No kidding, this is it," said Sam. "I just never thought I'd die in a bed-sheet toga."
"No, you can save us," I said. "Just like in the play. Remember? Orpheus puts Cerberus to sleep with music from his lyre."
"There's just one small difference," said Sam. "In the play I'm putting to sleep Ben with two extra stuffed dog heads coming out of his sweatshirt. Here I'm putting to sleep ... A LIVE MAD DROOLING GROWLING MONSTER!!!"
Fred looked desperate. "Well this aluminum-foil thunderbolt isn't going to do much for us. Why don't you give it a try? What have we got to lose?"
Sam cradled his lyre and nervously plucked a few strings.
Cerberus froze, then cocked one head to listen.
Sam plucked the beginning of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."
Cerberus sat down. Now all three heads were beginning to listen.
"I think it's working," I whispered.
Sam finished "Twinkle, Twinkle" and started again.
One head growled.
Sam kept playing.
Two heads growled.
"He doesn't want to hear that song again," said Fred.
"It's the only song I know," whispered Sam frantically. He began another round of "Twinkle, Twinkle."
All three heads growled.
"Wait a minute. I've got the real answer," said Fred digging into a pocket under his Cyclops costume.
Sam started "Twinkle, Twinkle" for a fourth time.
Cerberus howled, opened his jaws, and jumped forward to snap Sam in one mad gulp. Sam fell back. Fred tossed the thing from his pocket. The middle head chomped it in half and stopped in midair.
Half a piece of chocolate cake fell from the middle head's mouth. The left head sniffed it. The right head bit it. Then all three heads were snapping at each other, fighting for the last chunk of cake.
"My last Ding Dong," said Fred. "Now let's make a break for it."
No one had to tell us twice. We ran up the path past Cerberus, who was busy snarling, fighting, and biting himself. We ran past a guy rolling a huge rock up a hill. We ran past another guy reaching for fruit and water that kept moving away. We ran past spooky shadows and sights that we didn't want to see, until we finally burst above ground into the sweet green grass and beautiful hot sunshine.
"Yikes," huffed Sam. "I take back every bad thing I ever said about you, Fred. That Ding Dong was a stroke of pure genius."
We lay back on the grass and soaked up the sun, trying to catch our breath and shake off the creepy cold and gloom of the underworld.
"So once again, let me guess," said Sam, squinting through his glasses up at the clouds. "We've lost The Book and will never get home unless we find it."
"Well. . . yeah," I said.
"I've seen better heads on cabbage," said Insult Master Sam.
"And as usual, we have no idea where it is," said Fred.
"Well... yeah," I said. "But now we know it's not down in Hades. And since I think The Book has somehow sent us into our own play and the Greek myths all mixed together, the only other place it can be is Mount Olympus."
"Great," said Fred. "And with our luck, I'll bet the god who has it is probably the biggest, meanest, and strongest one of the bunch."
"Zeus," said Sam, squinting into the clouds.
"Yep, king of the gods on Mount Olympus," I said.
"Zeus," said Sam.
"So how do we get up there?" said Fred.
"Zeus!" said Sam lifting his arm.
"Okay, okay, we know the guy's name already," said Fred. "How do we find him?"
"Zeus! Zeus! Zeus!" croaked Sam, pointing to the clouds.
The shadow of a giant eagle suddenly covered us from above. With a whoosh of feathers and a burst of light the monster bird changed into a huge white-bearded god standing right in front of us. He pointed one threatening finger at us.
"YOU! " he thundered.
"Zeus?" we said.
FOUR
"YOU," boomed Zeus in a voice that blew the hair straight back from our heads. "YOU STOLE MY THUNDERBOLTS!"
Sam and I stood frozen like statues.
Fred lifted up his aluminum-foil-covered thunderbolt. "This? Aw, this is just—"
"HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE POINTING THAT THING!" yelled Zeus.
Fred faked throwing the thunderbolt. Zeus ducked again. I could almost see the lightbulb of an idea go on in Fred's head. "Yeah, we have your thunderbolt, and we're looking to trade."
"Ah, you Cyclopses are such a pain," said Zeus. "I try to help you and this is how you repay me? Ai yi yi." Zeus sat down on a nearby boulder. He squinted at Fred. "And what kind of Cyclops are you anyway? I've never seen a Cyclops with three eyes."
"Three eyes?" said Fred. Then he felt the one eye taped to his Yankees cap. "Oh right. Well I... uhh. .."
"Never mind," I said. "We are looking for a small blue book. Have you seen such a thing?"
Zeus turned his fiery gray eyes on me. "And who are you to speak, puny mortal? And where did you get the bad-fitting toga and strange sandals?"
I tried to adjust my bed-sheet toga and look noble in my sneakers. "I'm Joe ... uh ... Paris." I said. "I'm the Cyclops' agent. And we're looking to trade thunderbolts for The Book."
Zeus held his head in his hands. "Lost thunderbolts, nasty Cyclopses, greedy mortals—what a day. But if Hera finds out my thunderbolts are lost, I'm sunk."
Fred, Sam, and I looked at each other. This was getting scary. This wasn't the all-powerful Zeus you read about in Greek myths. This guy was the goofy, thunderbolt-losing Zeus from our play.
We couldn't believe it. Our own characters from the play had come to life. Then, just like in Act 2, we heard a screeching female voice from above.
"Zeus? Zeus, is that you down there?"
It was a line right from the play, but it wasn't Sara speaking it.
Zeus jumped to his feet. "It's Hera, my wife. She can't find out that my thunderbolts are gone. If she knows, everyone will know. What a blabbermouth. You've got to help me. Get rid of her."
I still didn't know how The Book had managed to bring our twisted version of Greek mythology to life. But I did know the only way to get out.
"Then will you help us find The Book?" I asked.
"Book, papyrus, tablet. . . whatever you want," said Zeus. "Just get rid of her." Zeus dove behind the boulder.
A gorgeous woman leading a peacock appeared from behind a tree.
"Hera?" I said.
"No, I'm the meter maid," said Hera sarcastically. "Now where is that bum, Zeus? I know I heard him thundering around down here. Where is he? Answer me. Are you paying attention?"
"I did once, but it wouldn't pay me back," said Sam.
Hera turned on Sam, widening her eyes, looking like she was going to fry him on the spot. I knew Sam had gone too far trying one of his insults on a goddess. Now it didn't matter where The Book was. We were all doomed to be burned like toast.
Hera raised one arm, pointed at Sam, and burst out laughing.
"Now that's the funniest thing I've heard one of you mortals say in a long time," said Hera, still laughing. "Your kind usually just shrivels up and goes dumb when I speak to you. Maybe you can help me out."
"We'd love to help you out," said Sam. "Which way did you come in?"
"One of us is crazy. But don't worry, I'll keep your secret," answered Hera with her own insult.
"Where have you been all my life? And when are you going back there?" countered Sam.
Hera gave another laugh. "How can I miss you when you won't go away?"
Sam grinned. "I never forget a face, but in your case I'll make an exception."
Hera howled, laughing so hard she was crying.
...
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