By the time Denise and Nathan arrived at the church, the effect of the water was wearing off. Oh, they still caught glimpses of people as Imager saw them, but for the most part things were starting to look pretty normal again. And that was good. Denise in particular was getting a bit tired of looking at everybody upside down all of the time . . . not to mention seeing them as they really were instead of how they pretended to be.

  What really cinched it for her was the traffic jam at Third and Franklin. Cars were backed up for blocks. Drivers honked and shouted and screamed. At least that’s how it appeared to everybody else. But thanks to the water from the stream that was still in her eyes and ears, Denise saw things a little differently. True, everybody was still angry and upset, but instead of firing off their mouths at one another, they were firing off guns. That’s right. Denise saw drivers using everything from pistols to bazookas, rifles to rocket launchers. For her the intersection had become a war zone . . . literally.

  People were diving from their cars, shouting, cursing, blasting away with machine guns, blowing one another up with grenades. Needless to say, she and Nathan hightailed it out of there as fast as they could.

  Now, they were seated in the office of some church. They’d already spoken with the Reverend for several minutes until he had to leave the room and take care of a disturbance in the lobby. He promised to be back in just a moment.

  “Are you sure about this place?” Denise whispered as they waited for his return. “I mean, if this is a church, aren’t there supposed to be crosses or Bibles or something?”

  “How should I know?” Nathan said. “The phone book says it’s a church, so it’s a church.”

  Denise threw a suspicious look out the window to the fancy sports car in the Reverends parking space, then to the expensive antique furniture filling his office, and finally to the plush carpeting at her feet. From what she’d heard of churches, this didn’t exactly fit the bill. Or maybe it did. What did she know?

  Suddenly the carved oak doors opened and the Reverend returned. “1 do apologize for that,” he said as he glided toward his desk. He was tall, handsome, and had a beautiful silk suit. Then there was his voice . . . smooth and understanding. “That was another one of those homeless people,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “You can imagine how bothersome they can be. But not to worry, we’ve called the police.” Then, taking his seat, he smiled. “Now, where were we?”

  “We were asking if you knew any perfect people,” Nathan said.

  The Reverend flashed a dazzling, every-tooth-in-place smile. “Ah yes . . . perfection.” He toyed with the diamond ring on his left pinkie. “You must understand, Nathan, that here at Club God, we are all perfect.”

  “You are?” Nathan asked in surprise.

  “Of course,” the man laughed. “And you can be, too.” He turned his perfect smile upon Denise. “And you, as well.”

  She couldn’t help but smile back.

  “How’s that possible?” Nathan asked. “Everybody makes mistakes.”

  “It doesn’t matter, my friend. Because once you join Club God, you automatically become perfect.”

  “I do?”

  “That’s right.” The Reverend gave him a wink. “All you have to do is say the magic words and you’re automatically forgiven. One hundred percent clean. For now and for anything you ever do in the future.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. And the best thing is, you don’t have to do a thing. It’s absolutely free.”

  “But shouldn’t I, you know, feel bad for the stuff I’ve done, shouldn’t I try to do better?”

  “Nonsense,” the Reverend chuckled. “Then it wouldn’t be free, would it?”

  Denise sat there staring at the man. Something about his mouth didn’t seem right. The words he spoke didn’t quite fit. It was like watching one of those old Japanese monster movies dubbed into English. He was out of sync. She threw a look at Nathan, but he was too caught up in the Reverend’s words to notice.

  “Just say the magic words, join the club, and you’re free to do whatever you want whenever you want to do it.”

  Denise stifled a gasp. Before her eyes the man began to sprout hair all over his face. And we’re not talking five-o’clock-shadow hair. We’re talking thick, bristly hair. It was popping out everywhere.

  At first she thought it was her imagination. Then she remembered the water. Maybe the effects hadn’t entirely worn off. Maybe she was seeing the Reverend the way he really was.

  “It doesn’t get any cheaper than free, does it?” the man asked.

  “No, I guess not,” Nathan said.

  Denise cautiously reached for the canteen and began to unscrew the lid. Maybe it was the water, maybe it wasn’t. There was only one way to find out.

  “As long as you show up at the club once a week and, of course pay your dues, you’ll always be perfect.”

  Carefully she dipped her fingers into the canteen and raised them to her ear. She tilted her head to the right and managed to get a small drop of the liquid inside. And that was all it took. Suddenly, the man’s words matched his mouth perfectly. And for good reason. Now she heard what he was really saying.

  “I want power! Give me power!”

  Denise’s eyes widened as he continued.

  “I’ll make you feel good so you’ll keep coming back so my empire can grow and grow and—”

  “Well!” Denise said, suddenly jumping up. “Will you look at the time. I guess we better hit the road, huh, Nate?”

  Nathan and the Reverend looked up at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” Nathan asked.

  “You know,” she said, motioning toward the door.

  “Know what?”

  She gave him a look of exasperation, then tried another approach. “Uhh . . . homework! Yeah, that’s it. Yes sir, got to crack the ol’ books, got those big tests tomorrow, yes siree.”

  “Denny . . . ”

  “Yeah, Nathan?”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

  “Oh right, of course,” she pretended to laugh as she walked over to his chair, put both hands on his shoulders, and tried to lift him. “But you know how I like to be prepared. Right, Nathan? Right?”

  But Nathan was too stubborn (not to mention heavy) to move. The Reverend turned his perfect smile upon Denise, and in his kindest, most sensitive voice screamed, “Listen, brat, you’re ruining my sales pitch! Keep your mouth shut!”

  The outburst was a shock to Denise. But apparently she was the only one who heard it.

  “Can’t you see we’re on to something here?” Nathan chided her. He turned back to the Reverend. “Now, what were you saying?”

  Denise felt like an idiot. Of course that was nothing new. But the water from the stream had never been wrong before. No way was this place a church—at least, not a real one. And no way was this guy a real “Reverend.”

  “I was simply wondering,” the man asked Nathan, “how much money do your parents make a year?”

  Denise could feel the tops of her ears getting hot. She reached for the canteen. If Nathan wouldn’t listen to her, then she’d make him hear for himself. As discreetly as possible, she poured a small handful of the liquid into her palm.

  “Oh, Nathan?” she asked.

  “What is it now?” he whined. “Can’t you see that I’m—”

  She threw the handful of water at his ear. Well, that was her target. Unfortunately as he turned his head, the target moved. Instead of getting an earful of water, Nathan got a faceful. To be more precise, an eyeful.

  “What are you trying to prove?” Nathan demanded as he angrily wiped his face with his sleeve. Then he looked back at the Reverend and screamed, “AUGH!” He jumped up and stumbled backward over his chair.

  “What is it? What do you see?” Denise shouted.

  “A wolf!” Nathan pointed at the Reverend. “He’s a wolf!”

  “What has the brat done now?” the Reverend snarled.

  “See for yourself, Denny! He’s a wolf, a wolf!”

  Quickly, Denise splashed some of the water into her own eyes. Now she could hear and see. And Nathan was right. The Reverend was a wolf. A snarling, ravenous wolf. The hair she’d seen earlier suddenly made sense. But it wasn’t hair, it was fur—fur that covered his entire body!

  “I WILL BE THE BIGGEST!” the animal growled as he leapt to his desk and began pacing back and forth on all fours. “MY KINGDOM WILL GROW! AND GROW! AND GROW!”

  “Well, thank you, uh, Reverend,” Nathan stuttered as he backed up toward the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” He groped for the doorknob. “We’d love to stay, but, like Denny said, we have a lot of things to do, so, uh . . . ” He turned the knob and quickly threw open the door. “See ya!”

  They dashed out of his office and were on the street in seconds. That’s when Denise heard the eerie, unnerving cry. She’d never actually heard a wolf howl before, but that is exactly what she heard now. A lone wolf howling, crying over the meal that had just escaped its clutches.

  Chapter 8

  Perfection at Last

  It took all of the concentration Josh had left, not to mention courage, to finally start believing the coach. Maybe she was right, maybe he really could survive in this Realm of Perfect Popularity. After all, he had spent his whole life trying to be popular. He had devoted all of his energy to impressing people. Things really weren’t that much different here.

  First he had to regain his intelligence—to convince someone that he was smart so he could be smart again. That meant finding a creature even more ignorant than himself.

  “Over there,” the coach’s voice called.

  “Where?” Josh asked nervously.

  “I hear a dog barking.”

  Not far away Josh saw a French poodle type of creature jumping up and down in the air. “But he’ll bite me.”

  “Go ahead, he won’t hurt you.”

  “But—”

  “Do it! Convince him you’re smarter!”

  “But—”

  “Do you want to stay like this forever?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then hurry,” the coach urged. “Hurry!”

  Reluctantly and more than a little frightened, Josh stepped forward. “Excuse me,” he called to the animal. “Excuse me!”

  “Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap!” the poodle replied as she continued jumping mindlessly into the air.

  “If it’s not too much trouble, I mean if you don’t mind, could I talk to you a second?”

  “Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap!”

  “Right.” Josh swallowed. He took a breath for courage and continued. “Look, I appear to be pretty smart, don’t I?”

  “Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap!”

  “I see,” Josh replied, not seeing at all. “But at least I’m not jumping into the air and yapping my head off, right?”

  “Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap!”

  “So . . . ” He took another breath. “Since I’m not annoying everybody or making a total fool of myself as you are . . . well, wouldn’t that at least make me smarter than you?”

  “Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap, yap!”

  Although the dog appeared to be thinking of nothing, something must have happened inside her little brain. Because suddenly Joshua felt intelligence returning. Not a lot, but a little.

  Yet that was only the beginning. Now he had to find other folks with equal or less intelligence than the poodle and convince them. No problem. First, he approached a professional wrestler and asked the same questions. The results were the same. He grew smarter. Next there was the teen covered in tattoos who had more rivets in her body than a naval shipyard. Another success.

  And on and on he went.

  Then he had to regain his courage by convincing someone more cowardly than himself that he was courageous. Fortunately, there was a chicken-like creature pecking away in the nearby sand. And since a chicken is the most timid animal in the universe (why do you think it’s called chicken?) it took only a second to get her to run from him, flapping her wings and clucking for her life. As she did, she must have thought how brave he was because, suddenly, he had instant courage.

  Next, he wanted to work on honesty. A brief chat with a used car salesman would take care of that. Unfortunately, there were no used car salesmen on the beach, so he had to settle for a politician. The results were even better.

  Then came the sense of humor, then the winning personality, then the super friendliness, and so it continued—Josh moving down the beach convincing people that he was better than they were, and . . . becoming it.

  His fame and popularity grew and grew until finally the big moment arrived. He had to convince someone he was the most popular creature in the realm. But with his fantastic new personality, that shouldn’t be a problem. Still, not wanting to take any chances, he was careful to choose just the right creature. There, over by the rocks— a kid wearing a pocket protector whose glasses were taped together in the middle. The fact that he also wore a bowling shirt with the words Chess Club President embroidered on the back didn’t hurt.

  “Hey there,” Josh called.

  The kid turned to him, sniffing from about a thousand allergies. “You--you’re Joshua O’Brien!” he said, sniffing some more.

  Josh grinned.

  “Why is someone as great as you (sniff) talking to a loser like me (sniff, sniff)?”

  For the briefest second Josh felt compassion for the kid. “You’re not a loser.”

  The kid’s face lit up and the pocket protector disappeared. “I’m not?”

  “Of course not.”

  Next to go were the taped glasses.

  “What are you doing?” the coach cried through Josh’s earpiece.

  “I’m just trying to help the guy.”

  “You cannot win by helping! You must make him think you’re the greatest creature alive!”

  Josh frowned. “Yeah, but—”

  “You must insult him. You must humiliate him into thinking you are the best!”

  Josh hesitated. He’d always looked out for the underdog, he never put them down. “The kid’s got some good qualities,” Josh argued.

  There was a ripping sound. He turned to see the kid’s bowling shirt had been replaced by a muscle shirt. Not only that, but he’d stopped sniffing.

  “He will overtake and destroy you!” the coach’s pet shouted through the communicator. “Stop making him think he’s somebody!”

  “Hurry, dear heart, convince him you’re better. Hurry or all your effort will be in vain.”

  Josh nodded. He wasn’t crazy about this, but he understood. It was the only way to win. He turned back to the kid and said, “Nice shirt.”

  The kid stood straighter. “Thanks.”

  Josh hesitated, then added, “For a loser!”

  Suddenly the boy hunched over smaller.

  “Nobody wears muscle shirts anymore.”

  Suddenly the bowling shirt was back on. “They don’t?” the boy asked.

  “Of course not. And if you were cool and popular like me, you’d know that, wouldn’t you?”

  Now the glasses returned . . . until the boy looked down at the sand in embarrassment and they fell from his face. He dropped to his hands and knees, searching for them, but he couldn’t see a thing.

  Josh wanted to help, but he knew the rules. He had to win. “Hey, loser!” he called. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

  Slowly the boy looked up, squinting toward Joshua.

  “Who’s the most popular person in the realm?”

  The kid muttered something and returned to his search.

  Joshua knew what should be done next, but he just didn’t have the heart.

  “Do it!” the coach shouted. “Do it!”

  Reluctantly, Josh dug one foot into the sand.

  “Do it! Do it! Do it!”

  And then, sadly, he kicked the sand into the boy’s face.

  The kid started coughing and choking.

  “Who’s the most popular person in the realm?” Josh repeated. With even less enthusiasm, he dug another foot into the sand, threatening to kick more.

  “You are,” the kid gasped.

  Josh felt terrible as the boy continued coughing and spitting. “You are the most popular! You are! You are!”

  Suddenly the entire beach broke into applause. Josh looked up. Everyone was clapping and grinning at him. It had happened. He had convinced someone to think he was the most popular and, just like that, Joshua O’Brien had become the most popular creature in the Realm of Popularity.

  “Congratulations, dear heart,” the coach called through the earpiece. “You are nearly ready to enter the Sea of Justice.”

  “Nearly?” Josh asked. “What’s left?”

  “Simply convince someone there that you are perfect. Then you will be perfect and qualified to enter the Sea.”

  “No sweat.” Josh grinned. He turned toward the fans who were still applauding. “Excuse me?” he shouted. “Excuse me?”

  A hush fell over the group. The great Joshua O’Brien was about to speak.

  “None of you can ever recall me making a mistake, can you?”

  “Oh, no,” the crowd insisted. “Absolutely not, you are too popular to make mistakes.”

  “Then, could that mean . . . ” He looked to the ground, pretending to be modest. “Oh no, never mind.”

  “No, please,” the crowd asked. “Please, tell us what your great mind is thinking.”

  “It’s just . . .” He gave a shrug. “Well, since I’ve never made a mistake and since I’ve got this perfect body and I’m the most popular person in the realm . . . doesn’t that kind of, you know, make me . . . perfect?”

  The crowd began to buzz. Apparently, the thought had never crossed their minds. But, now that he mentioned it . . .

  “Yes!” they began to shout. “Yes, yes, you are perfect! You are the most perfect creature we have ever seen!”

  And, suddenly, just like that, Joshua O’Brien became perfect.

  “Excellent, dear heart!” the coach cried. “Excellent! Now hurry before someone challenges you. Hurry and enter the Sea of Justice.”

 

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