Crown of the Cowibbean by Mike Litwin

1
    THE LEAKY TIKI
    Everything seemed peaceful and perfect as usual on the tropical paradise island of Bermooda. But from the east, a bold ocean breeze rushed through the palm trees with a rumble that sounded almost like thunder. It was the type of wind that made a cow’s fur stand on end, as if the breeze itself knew that something exciting was about to happen.
    At the exact same time that breeze bellowed, nine-year-old calf Chuck Porter and his adopted brother Dakota were trotting toward the beach. Mama and Papa Porter said the two of them could camp out on the beach for the weekend as long as they were careful and stayed out of trouble.
    â€œLet’s look for a place to put up our tent,” Chuck said. He pulled a copy of The Daily Moos , the island’s newspaper, from his camping pack. “The moospaper said the Silver Cow always shows up at sunset.”
    That morning, Chuck had read an article in The Daily Moos about a mysterious silver cow that appeared in the waves…and then vanished without a trace. The moospaper said it was a mirage, but Chuck took it as a sure sign that the beach was haunted. Chuck loved adventure and he insisted they had to investigate right away.
    This was nothing new, of course. Chuck was always on some kind of mission. That’s how he met Dakota. Dakota was not a calf at all, but a hu’man boy in a cow costume. A few months ago, Chuck was exploring a forbidden shipwreck and found Dakota—a lost hu’man boy washed up on a sandbar with no home, no family, and no idea where he was. They became best friends, even though the island legend said hu’mans were extinct, savage monsters. Chuck disguised his new friend’s identity with “cowmouflage”—a cow costume made from coconut shells, a sea sponge, and an old blanket. The Porters adopted Dakota when they learned that he had no family, but they still had no idea that he was a hu’man. No hu’man had ever been on Bermooda before, so Chuck and Dakota decided to keep it a secret.
    The two of them had just found an excellent campsite when Dakota noticed something in the distance.
    â€œWhat’s that?” he said, pointing to a ship at the end of the harbor. “I haven’t seen that ship before.”
    Chuck looked up and gasped. “The Swashclucker !” He started off toward the village, still wearing his camping pack. “Come on! We can go listen to Marco Pollo!”
    â€œWho’s ‘Marky Po-yo’? What about building our tent?” Dakota asked. But Chuck was already charging up the beach and didn’t answer. Dakota rushed to catch up.
    They clomped all the way through the village to the edge of the harbor, with Chuck’s little white cow tail swishing excitedly the whole time. They finally stopped at a small, rickety-looking tavern with bamboo walls and a straw roof. Outside stood a wooden post with a grinning cow’s face carved into it. An orange bandana with white polka dots was tied around its head, and water trickled out from between its enormous teeth. Above the post was a sign that read “The Leaky Tiki.”

    â€œSo who’s Marky Po-yo?” Dakota repeated as he caught his breath.
    â€œIt’s not ‘Marky’. It’s Marco ,” Chuck corrected him. “Marco Pollo is the most daring explorer to sail the sea!” he explained, waving his hooves. “The Swashclucker is his ship. Lots of folks have sailed around Bermooda, but no one has sailed as far away as Marco. He’s been to the horizon and beyond! He’s amazing!”
    Chuck opened the squeaky old door to the Leaky Tiki, and they entered a big, warmly lit room filled with tables and chairs. In the middle of the room, a circle of cows gathered around a pint-sized rooster who was perched on a table and chattering wildly.
    This is Marco ? Dakota thought as they inched to the front of the crowd. Marco was quite small for someone with such a big