Free The Brotherhood of Rotten Babysitters by Dan Danko, Tom Mason Page A

enough.
    “You can’t quit!” Pete yelled, stomping up to me. “And why not?!” I huffed.
    “Because you’re fired!” Pete snarled.
    “Then give me back my goggles!”
    Pete froze. The goggles’ elastic band was stretched to its breaking point as Pete forced them over his head. “So that’s how it’s gonna be? Well, then, you’re
un
fired!” Pete patted me on the back. “But can I keep the goggles?”
    “Go ahead,” I sighed.
    Pete ran off, as excited as a monkey in a banana store. He raced into the League of Big Justice and closed the door behind him. There was a moment of silence; then he cracked open the door again and poked out his head.
    “You’re fired!” he shouted, then slammed the door.
    “Fine,” I griped, then turned and walked straight into The Strike.
    “You’re quitting?” he asked. I don’t know who was more surprised, The Strike because I quit, or me because he appeared out of nowhere.
    “You’re a little late for saving me,” I complained.
    “I didn’t need to save you. You beat those babysitters on your own,” The Strike consoled me.
    “Wow. Good for me. I beat evil teenage girls.” “And saved your mom and The Sidekicks,” The Strike added. “It might be best if you wait until you
lose
a fight before you quit.”
    “I almost
did
lose this fight. But I’m sure
you
would’ve saved me. Just like you did with Dr. Robot and the Mole Master, Master of Moles.” I crossed my arms. “Now that I think about it, most of the fights I
did
win were only because you saved me.”
    “But you still won.”
    “It doesn’t matter. Pete fired me,” I explained. “And tomorrow he’ll be looking for you at two o’clock!” The Strike laughed.
    “Look, you’re not one to make big speeches about quitting,” I told him. “Didn’t you walk out on King Justice twelve years ago?”
    “I had a good reason.”
    “Well, so do I!” I defended. “I’m tired of doing all the work and everyone else getting the credit. I save the world and Pete gets the credit. I save Charisma Kid, and somehow Charisma Kid gets the credit. How do you get the credit for saving your own life?!”
    “I can’t believe they get
all
the credit,” he said.
    “Extra! Extra! Read all about it,” a young street urchin yelled from the corner, waving a fresh copy of the evening paper in the air. “Charisma Kid saves the world from rotten babysitters!”
    I cocked an eyebrow at The Strike.
    Suddenly, his utility belt flashed. He pulled out a small communicator. “This warns me when important news breaks!” he explained. The screen came to life.
    “We’re here with the brave soul who single-handedly fought back the attacking babysitters!” a news reporter barked.
    Charisma Kid’s pretty mug filled the screen. “Thank you! Thank you!” he began. “The odds were against me, and even though I wasn’t actually on the island where they were defeated and never even fought them, I’m just glad to have done my part to defeat those evil babysitters —”
    “Rotten,” the news reporter corrected. “Rotten,” the cameraman agreed.
    “Yes, yes,” Charisma Kid continued. “But this was one battle that I could not have fought alone. There’s one sidekick who helped me more than I can say, whose bravery and steely nerve gave me the inspiration to fight against insurmountable odds!”
    I perked up. Was he talking about me? He had to be talking about me! There was no one else
to
talk about! I couldn’t believe it! It was amazing! It was...it was the greatest feeling I had ever —
    “Blind-as-a-Bat Boy! I just want the world to hear me say... thanks!” Charisma Kid smiled.
    Blind-as-a-Bat Boy stuck his head into the corner of the TV screen. “Skree! Skree!” he shrieked.
    “You should have seen him batify those babysitters,” Charisma Kid bragged.
    “Skree!”
    “You bet, buddy!” Charisma Kid patted him on the back.
    “Skree!”
    “Blind-as-a-Bat Boy!? Who the heck is Blind-as-a-Bat Boy!?” I