The Second Clue

I got out my dry-erase marker (they won’t allow me no crayons) an drew a picture of the bag of Cheetos in my handy dandy notebook. I went on lookin. There hadta be more clues to who stoleded Mace’s scalpin’ wax. I looked under his pillow, inside his perty pink lampshade, behind his bookshelf, even behind every single one’o his books. Nothin.

I could hear Harvey in another room down the hall, shoutin, “I swear, I didn’t take your stupid scalp glue!” Tsk, tsk, tsk, that Mace Windu, pickin on the young’ns like the way Anni picks his nose.

“Quit scarin’ the young’ns, Mace!” I shouted at him, “Else, one’a them days they’ll start a little peoples’ revolution!”

“I know what I’m doing! You gonna help me or not?” I heard him yell back.

“You’re a wussy!”

“Shut up and help me find it, man!”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“Keep looking!”

“I know you are but what am I?”

Silence

“Yes! I win!” I told myself. It’s important not to say it out loud when you win, else the other guy starts yellin again. When that happens, no one wins, and you gotta keep yellin ‘till they stop again. That’s what’s called a trick. No one beats the Kenobinator at screamin wars. But all that yellin was makin my throat go dry. So I went down to the secret cellar to get me some booze.











Gawshdangit, it’s the second clue!