Saturday morning, 10 a.m. The convention center was already a mob scene.
There was Freaky Fuzzy stuff everywhere. Not only were there tons of booths selling vintage Freaky Fuzzies and Freaky Fuzzy accessories, there were tons of kids walking around dressed as their favorite Freaky Fuzzy! Everybody wanted to prove that their favorite Freaky Fuzzy was the best.
In my opinion, it was time for these kids to get a life.
My dad and his team had been here since 6 a.m. scoping out the place, on the lookout for the crazy architect guy. I had wanted to do the same with Chip, but my mom made me go later with her and Stella.
I haven't told you anything about my mom yet. She's a high school teacher, and as far as she's concerned, I'm the perfect son 'cause I skipped two grades and get straight As. I know she wonders what I'm doing down in the basement all the time, but as long as I tell her it has "educational value," she usually lets me do whatever I want.
All in all, she's kind of a nice break from Dad.
Anyway, today Mom was here at the Freaky Fuzzy Con to keep an eye on Stella who was darting from booth to booth looking for Freaky Fuzzy deals like a squirrel sniffing out a stash of nuts.
That left me and Chip mostly by ourselves to check the place out, eyes peeled for any upside-down weirdness.
But the place was packed not only with kids in costume but lots of grown-up fans in costume too. And Max Schleimer could have been any of these goofy guys dressed as their favorite Freaky Fuzzy. So Chip and I scanned the crowd, really giving everybody a close look. Was that guy's hat on upside down? Was that other guy's costume too well designed – maybe made by an architect?
Suddenly – WHAM! – I ran into what seemed like a big wall of fur. I looked up. This guy was a lot bigger and stronger looking than the others. He didn't belong here. Maybe it was Max Schleimer!
Nope. It was my dad.
"Dad!" I said, trying to keep from cracking up. He told me to keep quiet – he didn't want me to blow his Freaky Fuzzy cover. (I think he was Hairy Gary.) But his costume wasn't very good so all these other guys kept coming over and telling him everything that was wrong with it, which was driving him crazy.
Suddenly, Dad spotted something and went into "operational mode." He whispered into a microphone in his hairy sleeve: "Subject at three o'clock! Subject at three o'clock!" Then he took off for this crowd that was forming across the convention hall. I ran after him, dragging Chip with me. Pulling my phone out, I got ready to get the C.H.I.P. on Chip's tooth up and running.
But then I saw what Dad had gotten all excited about. Some guy in a Nuzzle Wuzzle costume was breakdancing and spinning on his head – upside down.
I grabbed Dad to stop him but he just pushed me away. So I yelled out, "It's not Schleimer!"
Everybody stopped and looked at me. Even the breakdancing guy stopped dancing and fell down.
Dad looked closer at the breakdancing guy then pulled me aside. He wasn't happy. "Okay, it wasn't Schleimer this time. But next time we might not be so lucky. Go back to your mother, Nort. Leave the security business to us professionals."
Dad walked off, and I felt lousy. I'd made him look kind of stupid.
Okay, he already looked stupid in his dumb costume, but I guess I'd made him feel stupid. But I felt stupid too. I reminded myself to stay on the sidelines in the future.
I'd leave the real action to C.H.I.P.
(Note: The rest of this free e-book doesn't have complete illustrations, but please read on to follow the adventures of Nort and C.H.I.P.!)
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