Hot Dog and Bob: Adventure 4 Read online

  While Hot Dog filled a bunch of containers with his special Dogzalot vinegar, Mr. G. put together a whole new rocket ship! Clementine and I helped load the containers into the rocket ship, and so did most of our classmates.

  Felicia, Danny and Marybell Marshall were still too beat up from their crashing-egg experience to carry heavy stuff. And Barfalot, Pigburt and Slugburt were sitting stubbornly in the corner—you know, going on strike for not getting to go to Gator-Ville and all.

  Once everything was loaded up, Mr. G. waved good-bye, blasted right through Hot Dog’s homemade ceiling and headed for the stars.

  “He was different,” said Clementine.

  “You can say that again!” I agreed.

  “No, I mean different from the other aliens we’ve met,” she explained. “The other aliens have all been really—well, evil! You know, take-over-the-world-and-get-rid-of-all-the-people kind of evil. But when you get right down to it, I really don’t think Mr. G. was such a bad guy. When you get right down to it, Mr. G. was nothing more than a lonely, oversized alligator looking for someone to play with. Plus, you have to admit, he was a pretty decent rapper.”

  “Wow, Hot Dog was right,” I laughed. “You really can find something good in everybody!”

  “Correction,” Clementine said, turning to look at the Terrible Triplets. “I can find something good in almost everybody!”

  Hot Dog pushed the forgetting button on his bun, and forgetting mist filled the room. If it worked like the other times, no one would remember a thing about the whole eggy freak show—no one but Clementine and me, that is.

  “That was some fun, huh, kids?” Hot Dog said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “Wish I could stay and play, but I’ve got a special you know who waitin’ for me back on you know where!”

  “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” asked Clementine.

  “I could be wrong,” I answered, “but I think he might have a date?”

  Hot Dog gave me a wink, high-fived me and disappeared in a sparkling shower of forgetting mist.

  Chapter 14

  Recess Is Over

  The next thing we knew, we were all back up on the playground at good old Lugenheimer Elementary. Not only had our friends forgotten about everything that just happened, but their bruised and aching bodies were all healed!

  “Recess is over! Didn’t anybody hear the bell?” asked our teacher, Miss Lamphead. “It rang five minutes ago! What’s the matter with you kids? You’re all going deaf from listening to that horrible rock ‘n’ roll music! That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “To tell you the truth, Miss Lamphead,” said Clementine, “we’ve been listening to quite a bit more rap than anything else lately.”

  Chapter 15

  Yummy Sardine-and-Marshmallow-with-Rice-Noodle Sandwiches

  I’d like to say that everything ended happily ever after. And that’s basically true, except for one beyond bad thing. Clementine ended up finding the note I’d written on that candy wrapper. Remember the note I put in her pocket when she wasn’t breathing? The note where I promised to eat ten of her super-sickening sandwiches if she promised not to die?

  “Okay, Bob,” she said the very next day at lunch, “here is your first tasty treat direct from Clementine’s Café! It’s my yummy-nummy sardine, marshmallow and rice-noodle sandwich topped off with a squirt of vinegar! Bob? Where are you going? How do you know you don’t like it if you won’t even try it? Why are you running away? Come on, Bob! A promise is a promise! Hey! I’m not kidding, Bob! You come back here this minute, or else I’m never, ever helping you deal with another space alien as long as you live! Bob? Bob!!!”

  THE

  END

  (for now)

  As an award-winning investigative reporter specializing in extraterrestrial activity, L. Bob Rovetch has spent hundreds of hours interviewing Bob and helping him record his amazing but true adventures. Ms. Rovetch lives across the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco with two perfect children and plenty of pets.

  Dave Whamond wanted to be a cartoonist ever since he could pick up a crayon. During math classes he would doodle in the margin of his papers. One math teacher warned him, “You’d better spend more time on your math and less time cartooning. You can’t make a living drawing funny pictures.” Today Dave has a syndicated daily comic strip, called Reality Check. Dave has one wife, two kids, one dog and one kidney. They all live together in Calgary, Alberta.

  Text © 2007 by Lissa Rovetch.

  Illustrations © 2007 by Dave Whamond.

  All rights reserved.

  Book design by Mary Beth Fiorentino.

  Typeset in Clarendon and Agenda.

  The illustrations in this book were rendered in ink,

  watercolor washes and Prismacolor.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available.

  ISBN: 978-1-4521-2364-6

  Chronicle Books LLC

  680 Second Street, San Francisco, California 94107

  www.chroniclekids.com