Chapter 11

chapter eleven Dirk wakes me up. Apparently, he's taking full advantage of our new home—he's dressed head to toe in neon workout gear. He hands me a brand-new ultra- hydration water bottle filled with cherry Pepsi. "You're gonna need it," he says. "June is ready and rarin'." He's not kidding. I'm still wiping gunk from my eyes, and June has already started in...

Welcome to the War Room, Boys. Here's the deal. We have four days until the election. If you all do what I say, Jack Sullivan will be elected mayor of Mollusk City. June says, "First, the bad news. Ghazt and Evie will be tough to beat, because they have kept the monsters safe." "But they were already safe," Quint says. "The Mallusk was not constantly under attack. Johnny Steve said as much." "Sure," June says. "But Evie and Ghazt are taking credit for keeping them safe... and it's working." "What about the loot thing I did, though? That probably helped, right?" I say. "Validation, please?" I add with a pleading smile.

"Now that pleading smile, Jack, that's the look of a politician!" June says. "And yes, your loot thing was good. However, Evie and Ghazt are now giving out TONS OF GOOD LOOT. Evie was up at dawn, hurling 'gifts' at the residents." "Guess who's now the proud owner of nine shoes?" Johnny Steve brags. "But there is good news," June continues. "The monsters think that Evie and Ghazt are pretty darn annoying. The biggest complaint is Evie and Ghazt's endless new laws." "Evie likes being in charge. The power," I say. "That's her whole deal." June nods. "The laws are supposed to be fun. But I think they both may be unclear on the actual definition of 'fun.' ""Oh yes," Johnny Steve chimes in. "Wacky Hat Wednesday has been a consistent failure..."

"So it's like a toss-up?" I ask. "Right now, either of us could win?" "Nope!" Johnny Steve says. "Definitely you're losing." June slams her fist on the table—and it promptly shatters in two. "Oops, forgot about Blasty," she says. "Ahem. That was just supposed to be an inspiring and leadership-y desk pound—not a property-damaging one." "I thought it was cool," Dirk says with a shrug. June says, "We can overcome the monsters' early opinions. Because right here, we've got... the dream team!"

"WE DO?" Johnny Steve exclaims giddily. "Oh, I am so excited to meet Charles Barkley. The greatest of all human golfers!" Dirk shakes his head. "Not that dream team, Johnny Steve. She just means... y'know... us." June leans forward. "And especially you, Jack. The candidate..." You are an unformed uninformed pile of clay who I will mold into the perfect candidate. That's my job Molder. No friend. June is saying you are the one who is to be molded. The moldy Ha, Jack's moldy. "And I am...." June says, tapping her badge, "THE CAMPAIGN MANAGER. I ran my first campaign in fourth grade—and won. I single-handedly got Martha

Heyward elected student body president, despite her endless verbal gaffes and her insistence on delivering all speeches via her creepy ventriloquist dummy, Sir Woody..." "Wow," I say. "If you got her elected, just imagine what you can do with a candidate who doesn't make verbal giraffes!" "Giraffes," Dirk chuckles. "Love giraffes. Nothing beats a talking giraffe." "FOCUS, BOYS!" June says. Her eyes are beady and sugar-charged. "First, we need a campaign slogan. Something catchy. Memorable, but not cheesy. Let's do