Chapter 8

chapter eight I'm hungry. Let's stop for corn dogs. I'm in a corn dog mood. We've been on the road for like twelve minutes. Munch, munch, munch. I'm also hungry. Did you guys eat before we left? Should I have eaten before we left? "Nope. No corn dogs," Dirk says. "This isn't the tree house anymore. We've got my little veggie garden—but that'll only last so long. Out here, we're gonna have to learn how to survive."

"We're like the Lewis and Clark of the apocalypse!" Quint says. "Totally!" I say. "We one hundred percent are Lois and Clark. From The New Adventures of Superman! I used to watch that on Nick at Nite." "Not Lois and Clark," Quint says. "Lewis and Clark!" "Right, sure. Them too," I say. "We're all four of them: Lewis, Lois, Clark, and Clark. OK—June, you be Lewis. Dirk, you be Lois! And then—hmm—Quint, who do you want to be?" "Are you asking if I want to be Clark or if I would rather be Clark?" "Yeah, if I wanna do, like, a nickname thing —which Clark should I call you?" Dirk groans. "It's too early for groaning," June says, looking at the map. "We still have a hundred and twenty-seven miles until Apocalyptic Road Trip Attraction Number One. The Wor—" "World's Largest Collection of the World's Smallest Stuff!" Dirk cuts her off eagerly.

"Featuring Some Bonus Actual Large Stuff! You don't have to tell me what it is—I know." "One hundred and twenty-seven miles..." Quint says. "I estimate that will take us less than three hours!"— Seventeen hours later, we're pulling into the parking lot. Dirk is like a dog that hears the word "walk"—he's practically scratching at the door. "I am so ready to see a ridiculously large collection of tiny stuff plus some actual large stuff!"

Youknow,everyone is into the world's largest, this and the world's largest that. But you never hear that much about really, really small stuff. That's what this place has. Wait, so this place has what? Like thimbles And pennies? No, dude, that would just be silly. This is stuff that's usually big,but they've got tiny versions of it, much less chill. "Wait, and the large stuff—is that stuff that's normally large?" I ask. "Nope!" Dirk says. "That's stuff that's normally tiny. Get it?!? It's kitschy!" "It's what? Who are you right now, Dirk?" I ask. Quint and June are hurrying inside. "GUYS! WHAT VERSION OF DIRK IS THIS?!" "This is Road Trip Dirk," he says. "Get used to it, pal."—

A few minutes later we're standing in a round room that's jammed full of really tiny stuff. It's dusty and smells like mothballs and the walls are a pale cream color. Dirk is quiet. After a moment he takes a seat on a bench the size of a tissue box. I glance nervously at June and Quint. They shrug. We're all worried that Dirk is epically bummed by our first stop on his dad's road trip itinerary. He looks down at the ground and sighs deeply. "It's just... it's just... just... that..." Then he leaps to his feet, smiling so wide it looks like his cheeks might pop. "It's just that... it's so... little! I FREAKIN' LOVE IT!"

I mean, I guess I can kindof see why you love it. There's a lot of small stuff. Well, duh. But really, I mostly love that it's happening. This first stop makes it official. I'm doing the trip my dad planned for years, but not just me, us. We're doing it together. Ah, Dirk feelings. Oh, look, Tiny polygraph machine. Dirk and June and Quint head off to explore the rest of the museum. But not me—I'm more of an "end of the museum" kinda guy. 'Cause at the end of every museum is perhaps the greatest concept ever birthed by the human brain: THE GIFT SHOP. Ahh yes, the gift shop. One time, my class went on a field trip to the planetarium, and I picked up a nifty little stress