The Bigwoof Conspiracy Read online

  “Thanks.” She sighed with relief and handed them over.

  Her stomach rumbled. “Let’s go to the banana stand. We can stop by The Sticky Six on the way.”

  “To the banana stand,” cried Willow. She whacked Lucy on the back of the thigh with her blue fluffsicle and galloped ahead.

  They wandered through the sea of stalls, banners and people wearing shorts in ten-degree weather, as is the Sticky Pines way. It seemed that everybody in the Big Crater Valley was there, losing the rigged games, screaming on the rickety rides and, most of all, eating.

  Tex inhaled the scent of freshly fried food as they passed a pink and white striped “Nurro Churro” cart. “Ah, civilisation,” he exhaled. “Mass-produced goodness, and in Sticky Pines, no less. Will wonders never cease?”

  “Truly, it’s a miracle,” Lucy groused.

  “Do not tell me,” said Tex. “You believe there is some sort of conspiracy among the concession stands? Are all the rides run by lizard people?”

  “It’s simpler than that,” said Lucy. “I don’t trust Fisher.”

  “Do not say that to Milo,” said Tex.

  “I think he knows,” sighed Lucy.

  They headed towards the centre of the fairground, where The Sticky Six were playing “Walk of Life”. A sizable gathering of festival-goers sat on blankets and deck chairs around the central stage.

  Three sets of paramedics in Nu Co.-branded coveralls looked out over the crowd from the top of the knoll. There’s medical tents and paramedics everywhere. That’s weird, isn’t it?

  The band finished the song as the kids snaked their way through the crowd. Willow hollered to get her dad’s attention, jumping up and down and waving her hands.

  Silas spotted them and winked. He whispered something to Janet, the denim-clad bass player. She strummed a riff on her electric instrument: binka dinka binka dinka binka dinka binka dinka binka dinka binka dinka. Then Silas and Scruffy Steve started in with the guitar and drums: Dah! Dah, Duh Dah! Dah, Duh Dah! Dah Dah Doww! Bernard, the slender singer, wailed out the first line as all four members of The Sticky Six joined in a rousing rendition of “Eye of the Tiger”.

  Willow cheered and Tex wiggled in a way that resembled dancing. Even Lucy couldn’t resist the urge to bop her head.

  A group of teenage girls rocked out to the music, obliviously sloshing red Nushie Slushies on Lucy’s shoes. They teetered towards the stage in high heels, a paramedic following closely behind as if worried they would break their ankles.

  Silas held the final note and shook the neck of his guitar dramatically.

  “Woohoooo!” cried Willow and Lucy.

  A clown with a pink Afro, red nose and rainbow-striped braces appeared and whispered something to Bernard.

  The lead singer nodded. “And now,” he crooned, dabbing sweat from his brow, “a word from our sponsor.”

  Silas blew a kiss to his daughters and disappeared with the other band members behind the red curtain at the back of the stage.

  Smoke billowed on to the platform and an epic swell of generic heavy metal music blasted from the speakers.

  Lucy covered her ears. Frickity frack, that’s loud.

  The fake fog parted, revealing Carlos Felina, dashing Sticky Pines weatherman, standing at centre stage in a lavender suit and tie. “Greetings, Sticky Pines,” he said into the microphone. “How is everybody feeling today?”

  The audience whooped and hollered. Tex stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly, nearly splitting Lucy’s eardrums.

  “Welcome to The First Annual Nu Co. Par-T in Da Pines!” Carlos exclaimed, his too-white teeth glinting under his pencil-thin moustache. “Please join me in thanking the good people of Nu Co. for their hard work in putting together the best carnival this town has ever seen!”

  Lucy tried not to gag as the crowd ate it up; just like they were eating up everything Nu Co. was dishing out that day. She had never seen so many people eat so much food. The bins were overflowing with clown-adorned wrappers, bags and empty cups.

  “As the oldest business in the Big Crater Valley,” said Carlos, “Sticky Sweet has been manufactured in Sticky Pines for over a hundred years.”

  A man in cowboy boots two rows down whooped loudly.

  “And now,” Carlos continued with a wink, “with this brand-new concentrated formula, our sappy little product could soon become the biggest little sweetener in the country.”

  “Eat it, honey!” yelled a middle-aged bald man Lucy recognised with alarm as the town dentist.

  “And none of this would have been possible,” Carlos paused for dramatic effect, “without Nu Co.’s CEO, Mr Richard Fisher!”

  Please, no.

  The music played again and the man himself stepped out from behind the red curtain. Confetti cannons fired over the audience, the members of which “oohed” and “aahed”. Mr Fisher shook Carlos’s hand.

  “Thank you all for such a warm welcome.” Fisher’s deep voice reverberated over the crowd. “I hope everyone is having a good time.”

  An enthusiastic red-headed woman near the kids applauded so loudly she looked like she was having a seizure. Lucy had seen her before, at the candle store downtown that always smelled like burning sage. She usually seemed much more serene. Two paramedics nearly knocked Lucy over as they ran up and grabbed the woman by the shoulders.

  What the bunk?

  “Get your hands off me,” the woman shouted. “What do you think you’re doing?” Then her hands started to shake.

  “Get her to the tent,” the female paramedic barked to the male one. They grabbed the struggling woman around the waist and hurried her away from the throng.

  What the hangnail was that? Lucy felt queasy as she watched them go, and not just because she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  “I think everyone is enjoying themselves,” Carlos laughed. “Maybe a little too much.” He elbowed Mr Fisher playfully in the side.

  Mr Fisher chuckled. “Sticky Pines is a unique little town,” he said, “and in the short time we’ve been here, we’ve learned just how special it is. This carnival is our way of saying thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.” He waved to the crowd, to thunderous applause.

  Lucy scowled. I have no time for this donked-up applesauce.

  Mr Fisher bared his teeth in a reptilian grin. “Be sure to try all of our products,” he added. “Now with Nucralose!”

  A series of goofy clowns trotted into the audience, dispersing all variety of Nu Co. food and drink.

  A woman in tight-fitting coveralls, with big blonde hair and eyelashes that could be seen from space, entered the stage. She presented Carlos with an oversized wad of pink NuCotton Candy. The suave local celebrity stuffed a large wad in his mouth.

  “We’re leaving now,” Lucy hissed at Tex, who was downing his third free sample of Nu Co. Cola.

  Mr Fisher winked and waved at the frenzied congregation as the clowns danced around idiotically, handing out an endless supply of goodies. Fisher locked eyes with Lucy and his smile faded.

  She didn’t know what Fisher was up to, but she knew one thing for sure: nothing good ever came with this many clowns.

  A pair of clowns in oversized polka-dot trousers traipsed past Lucy, Tex and Willow as they made their way to the banana stand.

  “There’s something off about this carnival,” said Lucy.

  “Relax, Lucinski.” Tex pulled out the anthropomorphic strawberry and juggled it from one hand to the other. “This carnival is a friendly gesture. Do not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “Tell that to the Trojans,” Lucy muttered.

  They reached the frozen banana stand: a metal structure shaped like the bottom half of a banana sticking out of the ground. It was situated at the end of the row across from the mechanical bull, slightly off-centre, as if it had been constructed at the last minute. Intriguingly, the yellow hut was adorned with signs proclaiming “Nucralose Free!” and “Nutritious and Delicious!”

  Huh. Th
at’s refreshing.

  The kids waited in line as the proprietor, a man dressed as the top half of a banana, served customers. His face was painted yellow with black spots to match the rest of his costume.

  “Welcome to the banana stand. I am the banana man,” he said when they reached the front of the line. “How may I fix your banana?”

  “You got any nuts?” asked Willow.

  “Walnuts or peanuts, crushed, crumbled or sliced. All my bananas are dipped in the most delectable chocolate you’ve ever tasted. Just don’t ask for any Nucralose,” he added with a sneer. “That stuff is nothing but trouble.”

  “Fine by me,” said Lucy. She was thrilled to find somebody else who shared her prejudice, even if it was a somebody dressed like a piece of fruit. “I’ll take one with walnuts, please.”

  “Same for me,” said Willow.

  “I will take peanuts, actually,” said Tex. “I appreciate the eternal struggle between salty and sweet.”

  The man dipped the first banana carefully and swirled it, once, twice, three times, before rolling it in a tray of crushed walnuts and handing it to Willow. He wiped his brow with the back of his plastic-gloved hand, smearing the paint that obscured his features.

  “Hey, look.” Willow held her sunglasses-sporting toy strawberry up in front of the costumed man. “You’re both fruit people. Can we get a picture?”

  “No pictures,” snapped the banana man. Without another word, he haphazardly dunked two bananas in chocolate, handed them to Willow and slammed the shutters.

  “But I wanted peanuts,” Tex groused. He took his treat, the messy chocolate dribbling down his fingers.

  Willow knocked on the stand. “Sorry, Mr Banana, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  There was no response from within. Willow shrugged. She waved a frozen banana in front of her sister’s face, but Lucy’s attention was elsewhere.

  Strolling down the bustling row of vendors was Milo Fisher, looking quite different from usual. He was wearing a blue-sleeved baseball shirt tucked into a pair of jeans, and a matching blue baseball cap.

  Whoa. He almost looks normal.

  He walked with his head down, as if he was trying not to be noticed, which, naturally, produced the opposite effect.

  “Hey, Feesh!” Tex shouted and waved.

  Milo looked startled as he spotted Lucy’s group. He looked around furtively and picked his way towards them through the crowd.

  “Howdy, stranger,” Tex saluted.

  “Hey,” Milo responded. He smiled flatly at the Sladan sisters. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” said Willow.

  Lucy waved and took a bite of her banana. It was mouth-wateringly delicious. It had a bit of an earthy kick, like Mexican hot chocolate.

  “Is that a Nu Co. product?” asked Milo, peering at her sloppy-looking treat. He glanced warily at the “Nucralose Free!” sign on the yellow stand. “This place doesn’t look very professional.”

  “Tastes fine to me,” said Lucy.

  “How have you been?” Tex clapped Milo on the back. “We have not seen you in ages.”

  “I’m fantastic,” said Milo unconvincingly. He turned to Lucy. “How about you?”

  “Never better.”

  “Nuh-uh,” Willow scoffed. “You’ve been sulking in your room listening to recordings of animal howls and drawing scary pictures of Bigwoof.”

  Lucy felt heat rush to her face.

  Tex nudged Willow. “Uh, Weeloski, I think it is time for you to win some more prizes, yeah?”

  “I do need to finish my mission,” Willow agreed. “I’m gonna win at all the games at this fair,” she explained to Milo.

  “Ambitious,” he nodded.

  “Any tips on how to beat them?” said Lucy. “This is your dad’s carnival, after all.”

  “Not a one,” said Milo. “I’ve never been to a carnival like this before. It’s been … interesting.”

  Just then, the shutters to the stand flew clamorously open. Lucy and Milo each jumped a foot in the air.

  The banana man stood in the open hut window, a smile on his paint-striped face. “Oh. Did I scare you? My apologies.” He turned to Milo. Would you like a nutritious frozen treat, young man?”

  “Oh, uh, sure,” said Milo. He pulled out a black-leather wallet and fished out a twenty.

  Willow pulled on Lucy’s arm. “C’mon, let’s do more games.”

  Lucy caught Tex’s eye. “You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “That is a fantastic plan, Lucille.” Tex put his arm around Willow and led her back towards the crowd. “Take your time,” he called over his shoulder.

  Willow made a kissy face at Lucy as the pair trotted off.

  They were alone, at last. Except for the banana man, who was busily twirling his latest confection.

  Lucy leaned against the stand. “So,” she said.

  “So,” Milo replied.

  “So,” said the big yellow man, rolling a banana in the tray of walnuts. “You kids have such interesting conversations these days. What exactly is a ‘big woof’?”

  “You were eavesdropping?” said Milo. “That’s rude.”

  “Is it?” said the man. “You were speaking in front of my stand. I merely happened to be within.”

  Lucy was more than happy to talk about something important, for once. “Bigwoof is a massive hairy monster that’s been lurking in the woods around Sticky Pines.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “I think it might be responsible for the missing people around here. Not that anybody cares.”

  “You do realise that you sound crazy,” said Milo.

  “At least the banana guy is interested in hearing about it,” said Lucy. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter who I tell. Nobody believes me.”

  “Because this whole Bigwoof thing is totally ridiculous,” said Milo.

  “A big hairy monster,” the man said thoughtfully. He set the banana in the cooling tray. “How intriguing. And what are your names, if I may ask?”

  “Lucy Sladan,” said Lucy. “And this is Milo Fisher.”

  “Don’t tell people my full name,” said Milo.

  “Why not?” said Lucy.

  Milo glowered at her. “Because I said so.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” said the man. He held out Milo’s artfully crafted frozen treat. As Milo reached up to take it, the man grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him up to the window of the hut.

  “What are you doing?” Milo shouted. “Let go of me.”

  “So,” hissed the man. “You’re Fisher’s boy.” He pinched Milo’s chin with his black-gloved hand and examined his face.

  “What the heck?” Lucy grabbed Milo around the waist and pulled.

  “Ouch! Stop!” Milo screamed.

  Lucy wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or the banana, but she did not loosen her grip.

  “Do you know what your father has done?” the banana man snarled, squeezing Milo’s wrist. “Do you know where he took them?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Milo bit the man’s fingers as hard as he could.

  “Owww!” yelped the man. He released his grip.

  Milo and Lucy tumbled to the ground and scrambled out of reach.

  “What’s going on here?” boomed a voice behind them.

  The banana man squeaked and disappeared inside his stand, slamming the shutters tight.

  Milo helped Lucy to her feet, each checking that the other was intact. Shaking but otherwise unscathed, they turned around to thank their rescuer.

  Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. Before them was a hideous big-footed creature.

  She had never been so happy to see a clown in her life.

  “Are you injured?” asked the clown, his voice flat and authoritative.

  Milo and Lucy dusted themselves off and took stock of their rescuer. He was tall and hefty, the improbable size of his red shoes and curly orange wig making him seem even larger. A wide blue smile had been drawn over
his white-painted face, and, like all the other clowns at the festival, he wore an oblong red nose. His orange-striped clothes were complete with fingerless gloves and a flower on his lapel that Lucy suspected squirted water. On any other day she would have run away screaming, but at this moment she couldn’t help but feel grudgingly grateful.

  Maybe they’re not terrible masked monsters after all, but costumed crusaders? “I think we’re OK,” she said, heart still pounding.

  “What happened?” asked the clown.

  “That guy just attacked us for no reason.” Lucy’s panic drained away, leaving anger in its wake. She turned to Milo, who was rubbing his wrist and looking more shaken than when he was almost mauled by a bear. “What the heck was that about?”

  “I don’t know,” said Milo. “What is this stand even doing here? Nu Co. doesn’t sell frozen bananas.”

  “That’s affirmative,” the clown responded. He frowned at the “Nucralose Free!” sign posted on the side of the shack. “I suspect this is an unauthorised food stand.” He swept his arm out authoritatively. “Step aside, please.”

  Lucy and Milo backed into the thoroughfare of oblivious festival-goers. A group of revellers scarfing FunNu Cakes and Nurro Churros paused to stare at the commotion.

  The clown banged on the stand. “Open up,” he demanded.

  There was no response. He tried to prise open the shutters with his fingers, but they wouldn’t budge.

  The clown knocked again. “Open up and identify yourself!”

  Again, no answer. The clown stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Two more clowns, one slender and one squat, pushed through the crowd. These bozos were dressed identically in blue pageboy wigs, green striped shirts and red braces.

  Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dummer.

  The Dums stood at attention by the banana stand and saluted.

  “Looks like we’ve got a rogue agent here, gentlemen,” the orange clown bellowed. “Prepare to infiltrate.”

  “Infiltrate?” Lucy whispered. “Is he the captain of some sort of clown army?”