Alcatraz Versus the Shattered Lens(10)

‘Usually involves a locked door,’ Grandpa said. ‘Padded cell. Bread and water. Oh, and a jail. Can’t forget that.’

‘They’ll throw us in jail?’ I exclaimed.

‘Hmm, yes,’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘The knights are bodyguards, lad. They have the right to determine when someone under their charge is going to be put into too much danger. They only have power to do it while we’re inside Nalhalla.’ He smiled. ‘They rarely invoke the privilege. We must really have them worried! Good job, lad! You should feel proud.’

This is a very exciting scene, isn’t it? You’re not too tired, are you? From all that exciting running?

Wait, you’re not running? Why am I doing all the work? Don’t you realize that you’re supposed to be acting out these scenes as I describe them? Don’t you know how to read books? I mean honestly, what are the Librarians teaching people these days?

Let me explain it to you. Everyone always talks about the magic of books being able to take you to other places, to let you see exotic worlds, to make you experience new and interesting things. Well, do you think words alone can do this? Of course not!

If you’ve ever thought that books are boring, it’s because you don’t know how to read them correctly. From now on, when you read a book, I want you to scream the words of the novel out loud while reading them, then do exactly what the characters are doing in the story.

Trust me, it will make books way more exciting. Even dictionaries. Particularly dictionaries. So go ahead and try it out with this next part of this book. If you do it right, you’ll win the bonus prize.

‘Come on!’ I yelled, ducking into a side room. I figured that the knights would have trouble following through smaller chambers, since there were so many of them. The room was filled with furniture, however, and I was forced to leap up on top of a couch and hurl myself behind it.

‘What do we do?’ Bastille asked, looking over her shoulder. The knights were rushing into the room behind us.

‘I’m not sure!’ I said, picking my nose.

We burst out of the room into a hallway, where I hopped up and down on one foot three times, then punched myself (softly) in the forehead. After that, we pranced down the hallway flapping our arms like chickens. Then we twirled around, smacking our brother if he happened to be near. Then we stuck our feet in our mouths before dumping pudding on our heads while singing ‘Hambo the Great’ in Dutch.

Now see, didn’t I tell you it would be more exciting this way? You should act out all books you read. (And by the way, the bonus prize is getting to smack your brother and blame it on me.)

‘Why are we doing this?’ Bastille cried.

‘It’s not really helping, is it?’ I replied.

‘I don’t mean to be depressing,’ Grandpa noted, ‘but I do think they’re gaining on us.’

It was an understatement. They were right behind us. I yelped, bolting down a side hallway, Bastille easily keeping up. She had Warrior’s Lenses on and could outrun Grandpa and me, but she hung back.

‘Only one thing for me to do!’ Grandpa Smedry said, raising a finger.

‘What’s that?’ I asked.

‘Switch sides!’ he replied. And then he stopped running, letting the knights catch up to him. ‘Come on, let’s get him!’ Grandpa cried, pointing at me.

I froze, looking at him, shocked. Bastille tugged me forward, and I stumbled into motion, running again. The knights didn’t take Grandpa into protective care. One did pick him up and carry him, however, so he didn’t slow them down. In seconds, we were being chased not only by an entire force of Knights of Crystallia but my moustachioed grandfather as well.

‘What’s he doing?’ I demanded.

‘Burn him at the stake!’ Grandpa yelled from just behind.

‘Well,’ Bastille said, ‘he never was going to go with us. Remember? When we acted in front of the kings, his part was to claim that he didn’t want you to go and couldn’t stop you.’

‘Dice him up and feed him to the fishes!’ Grandpa yelled, voice softer.

‘Why did we decide that again?’ I sputtered.

‘Pull his insides out through his nose and paint him with eyeliner!’ Grandpa Smedry yelled distantly.

‘Because we didn’t want him to get into trouble for what you’re doing!’ Bastille said.

‘Make him watch old Little House on the Prairie reruns!’ Grandpa Smedry bellowed, voice dwindling.

‘Well, does he have to get into the part so enthusiastically?’ I said. ‘He’s making me . . . Wait, voice dwindling?’ I glanced over my shoulder.