Superheroes Don't Eat Veggie Burgers by Gretchen Kelley Page A

and intestines would be made into appetizers and their hearts and brains would be used for desserts. His poison could force a person into submission within seconds of touching someone’s skin.
    Dude found him chasing a group of soccer players around their practice field, his barbed tongue whipping back and forth, trying to get an accurate shot. Though the players were fast, they proved to be no match for the giant bug’s six long legs, and soon he had them cornered against the field house.
    â€œHa-ha!” he cackled. “You will be perfect for our dinner party tonight! Now, hold still while I—”
    Before he could work up a large enough loogie to coat all of them, Dude appeared. Though the bug was three times his size, Dude was smarter, faster … and more fearless.
    â€œOkay, Croach,” he said. “You’ve had your fun for the day. Now stop tormenting innocent people and get off my planet.”
    Croach’s bloodshot eyes rolled back in their huge sockets.
    â€œWho dares speak to me like that?” he screeched, turning his bulbous head sideways to get a better look.
    Dude moved closer to him while the trapped players held their breaths. Dude was now directly in the bug’s spitting range, a place no one in their right mind would choose to be.
    â€œYou are just an oversize bully, Croach. Without your poisonous tongue, you would be powerless. Why don’t you crawl back into whatever crack you came out of before I do something you’ll regret?”
    The cockroach twisted his head to one side, then the other. Zeroing in on Dude, he opened his mouth, bits of drool already beginning to seep out of the sides.
    â€œAh, Dude Explodius.” He licked his lips. “You’ll make a perfect appetizer.”
    Dude moved quickly. As the creature’s long tongue began to unroll, he shot a bolt out of the Exterminizer and into Croach’s chest wall, blowing the insect into a billion particles.
    Once again Planet Splodii was bug-free.

 
    CHAPTER
    18
    Later that night I wake up, dripping in sweat. The room feels like it’s August and someone cranked up the heater instead of the air conditioner.
    I think back to the excuse I gave my dad. Maybe I really am coming down with something.
    I sit up and scan my room. My bookshelf sags under the weight of my rock collection and favorite books, and a week’s worth of T-shirts and boxers make a mountain next to my hamper. I stand up and yelp when something stabs into my foot. I turn it over. A red Lego sticks to the bottom of it.
    I hop over to my desk and push aside the pile of candy wrappers that cover my journal. I open it and squint at the episode I wrote:… blowing the insect into a billion particles …
    I shiver. Mr. P said the journal is only a catalyst. I think back to his words from the first day of school and the note that Pickles wrote me.
    â€œWords can be powerful,” I say out loud, then shake my head. Even if my science teacher knows what he’s talking about, there’s no way that something I write in my journal could cause my soccer coach to be blown to smithereens.
    Right?
    I chew on my pencil.
    I’m not sure it’s a chance I’m willing to take.
    I erase the last part. Then I write:
    Dude aimed for the insect. “I will spare your life, Croach, but I will render you powerless.” With that, he shot a bolt of electricity straight into the bug’s neck, disintegrating his poison chamber. Gasping, the cockroach coughed and sputtered, grabbing at his throat.
    â€œDude,” he croaked, “what have you done to me?”
    Dude glared at the pest. “I have stripped you of your one power—your poisonous tongue. Now, get off my planet before I strip you of anything else.” With that, he turned toward the dining room, suddenly hungry for something salty.
    Reading back over it, I feel better. Coach Crenshaw may be a bully, but having him annihilated may