Chapter 9: Man on a Mission (Jimmy)

Stupid JB. Stupid, ugly JB. Stupid, ugly, smelly betrayer JB. He’ll see. Everyone will see. Just wait. I came tearing through the front door, flying like the wind, only faster, down the narrow short hallway and into my room, my solace. My bat cave.

I stepped carefully into my room, being mindful to avoid all of my boobytraps, all of my sister/stranger deterrents that I had installed. There was the cocked and ready supersoaker, which was filled with mustard and had a tight string wrapped firmly around the trigger, ready to go off if the doorknob was turned too much to the right. There was the gas bomb, AKA the whoopee cushion hidden masterfully underneath the threshold into my room, which would alert me to anyone sneaking into my safe space. I stepped over the welcome mat, which I had borrowed a couple years ago from the neighbors. The mat read “Hoe, why is you here?” And underneath it was a hidden cache of marbles that were ready and willing to take any would-be intruder off of their criminal feet. 

I crossed the room, jumping over not one, not two, but THREE obvious tripwires that were made from repurposed jumpropes. Once I had cleared them, I then jumped over the secret fourth tripwire, the only real one, an invisible piece of fishing wire that, if tripped over, would land a person face first into my waiting army of plastic men, guns pointed to the sky and ready to poke some eyes. Genius. No matter how many times I think about them, I’m never any less impressed with myself. Man, these are some good traps! I’m such a good detective. Suck it Krause!

After passing my fake but intimidating replica bear trap and disarming the airhorn filled with glitter and crushed cayenne pepper, I was safely at the side of my bed. I ducked underneath, slipping into the darkness below. I reached out and felt my way to head of the bed, under which I had hung a rechargeable lantern from a crooked hook. I flicked it on and, once my eyes adjusted, I began my search. I pushed aside a box marked TOP SECRET, one titled SPARE TRAPS, a blacked out Tupperware with the label LIVE BEES (DO NOT SHAKE), a bag with a duct tape label reading MAGIC & MISDIRECTION and then, finally, I spotted what I needed. I extended my hand and, with my classic unbreakable kung fu grip, I pulled my hard plastic suitcase towards myself, the one that was a bright neon yellow and had the word DISGUISES scrawled across it. Bingo!