I scanned the room for danger on my way out and noticed a few shady dudes in one of the corner booths. Their overcoat collars were turned up, their rain hats pulled down, and, though they were taking pains to hide their faces behind their menus, I got a definite glimpse of blue skin.

I quickly looked away, continued on as if nothing was wrong, and, as I passed the coffee machine, grabbed two full pots and threw the boiling-hot liquid right into their laps.

I knew it wasn’t going to do any real damage, but there’s nothing like a good old-fashioned, lawsuit-worthy, scorching-hot coffee spill to really tick someone off.

It worked like a charm.

Chapter 32

I WAS OUT the door and into the parking lot in a flash, four coffee-scalded aliens hot on my tail.

“I hate when that happens,” I said pointing at the damp, yellow stains on their poorly fitting pants. “So-o embarrassing!”

“You. Are. So. Dead,” said the biggest one. He pressed a button on a small electronic device he was holding, and the back door on a tractor-trailer parked at the rear of the lot rolled open, revealing an interstellar transport container. That could only mean one thing: something very big, very bad, and very foreign was about to appear on the scene.

An unnerving roar emanated from within, and, a moment later, an enormous space creature leaped out into the parking lot.

With the body of a six-hundred-pound lion, a giant ant’s head with wicked-sharp mouthparts, and a stinger on its tail the size of a baseball bat, the creature gave the impression that it wasn’t here to march in the annual firemen’s parade.

It let out another roar and pawed at the pavement like an angry bull, its antennae pointing at me like twin rifle barrels.

“Um, why’s it looking at me?” I asked the aliens. One of them responded with a grizzly voice.

“Every day since it was a kitten, its trainers have punished it with a stick that was coated in the scent of your pathetic Alparian species. It may have never met you personally, but, trust us, it hates your guts.”

“Um,” I said, trying to decide whether giant lions or giant ants scared me more, “you wouldn’t have any spare deodorant I could borrow, would you?”

The henchbeasts thought that was hilarious.

Chapter 33

I DON’T KNOW if you’re a fan of nature documentaries or otherwise familiar with the African savanna’s ecosystem, but the truth is that even if the lion is King of the Jungle, he’s not quite an all-powerful ruler.

The only truly supreme creature on that continent-the one creature that no other animal will go against-is the African elephant.

Weighing in at seven tons, more than twenty times the size of the largest lion, five times the size of a rhino, and with ivory-hardened tusks capable of tearing open a Jeep, there isn’t much that’s going to risk challenging the will of a full-grown bull elephant.

So I changed myself into one.

Although, in deference to my adversary’s mutant alien status, I included some special bonus features that I’ll explain shortly.

Unfortunately, my sudden shape change didn’t have the immediate effect I intended. Instead of leaping back into his cage, scared out of his wits, the beast charged me at an alarming rate of speed, leaping almost straight up into the air so that he could land on my back and dig his claws, jaws, and poison stinger into my unprotected flesh.

I quickly jumped sideways-setting off a few car alarms as I landed-turned around, dropped to my front knees, and raised my big elephant butt at the pouncing alien beast.

Now, before you interpret this move as a sign of submission, think again: What trumps an ant… besides a giant sneaker?

A spider. Ant-lion versus elephant-spider!

I raised my tail, exposing a massive set of spinnerets, and fired a tangle of web that would have impressed even Peter Parker.

The ant-lion fell to the pavement with a thud, bound up like a mummy. It growled at me in rage, wriggling helplessly in its silken straitjacket.

I knew I didn’t have much time before the aliens regained their wits and decided to attack me themselves, so I quickly charged up to the ant-lion, knelt down, and probed through the sticky threads with my trunk to find the back of his armored head.

Then I undertook one of the more challenging telepathic adjustments I’d ever undertaken.

“I hope this works,” I said, ripping the threads from its struggling body.

Fortunately, it did-the reprogrammed ant-lion quickly leaped to its feet, gave me a startled stare through his bulging bug eyes, and charged after the henchbeasts.

“Yeah,” I yelled in booming elephant voice as they ran away into the woods. “You know that memory he had of my scent on his trainer’s stick? Well, I kind of changed it to a memory of your scent, you ugly bugglies!”

But they were already too far gone to hear me. I could hear trees falling and their screams fading in the distance.

I morphed back into my usual handsome self just as Judy tentatively popped up her head from behind our Dodge minivan. Instead of Judy Blue Eyes, though, it was more like Judy Wide Eyes.

“Bet you didn’t know I could do that, huh?” I said, kind of embarrassed.

“Yeah… No…” stammered Judy. “What was…? Who were…? Hey, why are we outside? Are you leaving?”

Watching her face was like seeing lights get shut off inside a building. I had no idea how, but Number 5 had clearly done something to her short-term memory. And if that was the case… well, this guy was getting more worrisome by the minute.

“Yeah, I better run, Judy,” I said. “Stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Um, yeah,” she said, waving like a Disney theme-park character as she walked, oblivious, back toward the restaurant. “Come back and see us real soon.”

Chapter 34

I HOPPED BACK in the van but didn’t get very far. Main Street was basically a two-mile-long parking lot. People were just sitting in their cars, staring into the bumper of the automobile in front of theirs, not the least bit worried about the plume of black smoke that was billowing farther up the road.

I turned the van into a levitating skateboard-like the one in that Back to the Future movie-and offered the young man in the Ford Focus behind me the sort of nod I imagined Danny Way would give before undertaking one of his record-setting jumps. Then I put my helmet on, jumped on the board, and zipped down the sidewalk to see what was going on.

A house was on fire-and in the most stunning show of community cooperation I’d ever seen in the U.S. of A.-neighbors and passersby had formed a bucket brigade to the house, filling and passing buckets, hand over hand, to douse the flames. The place was a total loss, but it looked like their efforts would at least keep the inferno from spreading to any other properties.

“Where’s the fire department?” I asked a businessman standing in the line, sweating in his charcoal suit.

“Nobody’s seen them in a month.”

“What happened?!” I asked. “Isn’t there any backup? I mean, that’s nuts!”

“I guess they’re on vacation.” The man passed along another bucket.

I was flabbergasted. “Why didn’t anyone call a nearby town for help? Why hasn’t this been all over the news?”

“They’re on vacation too,” he answered, and twitched a little bit. “Everybody deserves a vacation.”

“So Number 5 brainwashed you too, huh?”

“What?” asked the man, sweat dripping from his brow.

“Never mind,” I said, shaking my head. And I put out what was left of the fire with one giant alien breath, like I was blowing out candles on a birthday cake. “Now go home and take a shower.”