Revenge of the Tiki Men! by Tony Abbott Page B

pitcher’s mound, snapping his fingers.
    â€œWho’s he?” Holly whispered.
    â€œAnd how did he get there without us seeing him?” Liz muttered. “Odd. Very odd …”
    The man stepped down from the mound and danced lightly across the infield to them.
    He was dressed in a bright turquoise suit with a velvet collar, narrow pants, and shiny black shoes. He wore sleek black sunglasses. “The big guy is what you call a Tiki man,” he said. “Hey, that reminds me of a joke.”
    The man’s hair was black, slicked flat on the sides, and combed to a high peak in front. A curl dangled down to the middle of his forehead.
    â€œWhat do you call a twenty-foot-tall Tiki man?” he said. The kids shook their heads.
    â€œShorty!” the man burst out. “Isn’t that cool? And, hey, speaking of cool, so am I. Buddy Kool’s the name. That’s Kool with a capital K ! ”
    â€œUh-huh,” said Mike, brushing the dirt from his pants. “Well, we were just trying to play a game and—”
    â€œWatch the dust, kid!” the man said. “You want to uncurl my curl?” He pulled a small comb from his pocket and touched up his hair. “Am I perfect yet? Wait, don’t answer. I already know I am!”
    â€œExcuse me, sir?” Liz began, backing up into her friends. “But where exactly did you come from just now? I thought I saw—”
    â€œTssst!” the man hissed, putting a finger on his lips. “Buddy Kool talks, you listen. When Buddy Kool snaps his fingers, you listen, too.”
    â€œListen to what?” asked Sean.
    â€œThis!” the man said. Snap!
    Suddenly— boom! boom! The air echoed with booming sounds coming from the pitcher’s mound. Liz glanced over to see five more strange shapes standing on the mound.
    â€œMore people!” she mumbled. “What’s going on? How did they get here? And what are they wearing? They look sort of human, but … I don’t know …”
    The five figures hunched over to them. They did look sort of human—two arms, two legs, one head each—but they were completely covered in … weeds!
    â€œOh, you like the look?” Buddy Kool asked, peering over his sunglasses and brushing his fingernails on his jacket. “It’s my great pleasure to introduce … the Mango Men. They’ve come to play!”
    On their heads the Mango Men wore headdresses of shaggy, woven grass. Big floppy leaves crisscrossed their shoulders, and their pants were made of thick brown twigs stuck together. They snapped and crackled when they walked.
    But the strangest thing was the big, thick, ugly wooden stick that each carried.
    â€œThis is really starting to weird me out,” said Holly.
    â€œOkay, look, you want to play?” said Sean, walking up to the men, tossing a ball from hand to hand. “Some basic rules first. You guys have way too many bats—”
    â€œUgh!” one Mango Man grunted. He grabbed the ball from Sean, sniffed it, and took a bite.
    Chomp! He began to chew it.
    â€œHey, that’s a brand-new ball!” Sean whined.
    â€œHit it, men!” shouted Buddy Kool.
    Boom! Boom! The Mango Men struck their big wooden sticks together. They snarled at the kids. They growled. They clacked their teeth like angry dogs.
    Then they attacked.

3
    Make Like a Tree—and Leave!
    â€œH it it, Mango Men!” Buddy Kool repeated, jerking his fingers at the five kids.
    In a flash the five wild Mango Men surrounded the kids and pushed them behind home plate.
    â€œDon’t hit anything!” Liz cried. “Especially not us!” She felt the wire backstop digging into her shoulders.
    â€œWe’re trapped!” said Mike.
    The Mango Men brought their sticks down suddenly and hit—the ground!
    Boom! Ba-boom-boom! Ba-boom-boom! Ba!
    â€œOooh, so swingin’!” cooed Buddy Kool, snapping his fingers to the beat.