*****
The red wagon was overflowing with taco ingredients. Bug had to push from behind with all of his might. Benny wrapped a rope around his waist that was tied to the wagon’s handle so he could pull. Bug also made sure that none of the supplies that he and Benny borrowed from Pops fell out.
Reaching the entrance ramp from the highway, the wagon picked up speed. Bug had no choice but to let go of the wagon and run as fast as possible to keep up. He kept his hand close to the supplies, but he quickly realized he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the downhill speed of the wagon. With one last effort, Bug leaped into the air and landed spread eagle on top of the wagon.
“Oh, Benny, this can’t be good,” Bug cried.
Benny paid no attention because now he had his own problems. He was running downhill as fast as he could, trying to get away from the runaway wagon—to which he was still tied! When he veered to the right, the wagon turned right. When he veered to the left, the wagon followed.
“Untie the rope! Untie the rope!” Benny screamed.
“Pull on the rope?” Bug yelled back. He thought to himself, Is he crazy?
“No, no, untie the rope!”
It was too late. Bug gave the rope a hard tug and pulled Benny onto the wagon with him.
“We’re gonna die!” Benny screamed.
“No, we’re gonna get killed!” yelled Bug.
CRASH!
They slammed into the guardrail next to the tollbooth, and the wagon came to an abrupt stop. The boys, however, kept going, flying over the guardrail and somersaulting in the air. They landed in a pile of landscaping mulch, delivered just before Exit 23 closed.
Oh no, it’s dark wherever I went when I died, Bug thought. It stinks too. He felt something pulling at his legs. Suddenly the lights came on as Moe and Cindy pulled his head out of the mulch pile.
“Are you okay, Bug? Here, let me clean the wood chips from your cheeks,” sighed Cindy, rubbing his face with her hands and picking the chips from his hair.
“I’m fine.” He swatted her hands away as if they were mosquitoes. “Really, I’m okay. Where is Benny? Benny, where are you?” Bug called out.
“In here, Bug! Come and get me.” Benny had bounced off the mulch pile, landed in an evergreen bush, and disappeared entirely.
“Hold still, Benny, I have you.”
“I have you too,” Moe said. He and Bug grabbed an arm and a leg and pulled Benny out of the bush and helped him to his feet. His hair was sticking up and full of needles from the bush. Otherwise, he was fine.
Benny looked Bug in the eyes. They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. They smiled and had a twinkle in their eyes. Then they burst into song: “Hey diddle, play my fiddle, make some flapjacks on a red-hot griddle. Johnny went downtown, met a circus clown. Billy went upstairs, fought some grizzly bears. Jimmy Jimmy, jumpin’ bean, Benny and Bug: best you’ve ever seen!”
They each gave Moe and Cindy a high five. Then Bug said, “The Apple Grove Gang will run this stand together.”
Benny and Bug sang this little cheer only on momentous occasions when they did something neat. Cindy and Moe had never witnessed the little outburst and just stood in amazement.
“Everyone grab something, and let’s get things inside our taco stand,” Benny said as he picked up the cases of Pepsi, making sure not to cut himself on the one bottle that had broken.
Inside, Cliff had been busy working. On one counter next to a small fan, he had set up the camping stove. On the floor, next to the window with the sliding glass where he normally sat, were two large, aluminum ice chests and one Styrofoam cooler.
“I thought we should put the meat in one chest, the Pepsi in another and vegetables in another. Germs, you know?”
“Good idea.” Bug put down his load of supplies and looked at Benny. “Let’s go get our bikes and head to Lester Babbish’s office. We still have time to see him before he leaves for the day.”
“Great! I’m right behind you, Bug.”
9
THAT’S MY BALL
Within minutes, Moe, Cindy and Cliff had chopped most of the onions, lettuce and tomatoes. The meat was cooking and Cliff had put his secret mix of seasonings and spices in it.
A-a-chooo! “This smells good. Can I have one when they’re ready?” Moe asked. A river of tears ran from his eyes. A mist of steam from the cooking pot brought the essence of chili powder to his face. It went up his nose and caused him to sneeze.
“Only one,” Cindy said. “Remember we have to make enough money to open the community center.”
While Cliff and Moe continued to cook the taco meat and chop vegetables, Cindy dragged the large sign she had made from a piece of half-inch plywood down the entrance ramp to the exit sign. She looked up at the large green sign that read EXIT 23. Right below where a large arrow that pointed towards Apple Grove used to be, someone had hung another sign that read NO EXIT.
Cindy had fastened a piece of rope on the top corners of her sign. She threw one piece over the exit sign, then the other. Now, pulling on one of the ropes she raised her sign. It was like when the custodian at school raised the flag in the morning. When she had tied off the one side, she raised the other. She looked up to see painted in twelve-inch white letters against a green background: Bill’s Tacos. Below that was a large arrow that again pointed the way to Apple Grove.
“Hey guys, I have the sign up! Come and help me move the barricades so customers can drive up to buy their tacos.” Cindy was standing by the drive-up window with her head poking inside. “I think we’re ready for business.”
Cliff turned the heat down on his taco meat and Moe put the vegetables he was chopping into one of the coolers. “Alright, let’s get the show on the road,” said Moe. They started moving the metal and wood folding barricades. Once they had them all moved, they went inside and waited for customers.