Jon Scieszka - Time Warp Trio 08 - It's All Greek To Me

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THE TIME WARP TRIO

book 8

It's All

GREEK

to Me

by Jon Scieszka

PUFFIN BOOKS

ONE

"Nice doggie, nice doggie, nice doggie," said Sam.

The monster barked three times—once with each of its three giant heads.

"A three-headed dog?" Fred pulled down his Yankees cap with a giant paper eye pinned on it. "You have got to be kidding."

The three heads snarled, showed fangs, and drooled and drooled and drooled. They didn't look like they were kidding.

"Down boy, down boy, down boy," said Sam to the dog. "Do something," said Sam to me.

Fred, Sam, and I backed against a cold wet rock. We checked what weapons we had to fight this beast. Sam held a lyre.

Fred gripped his aluminum-foil-covered thunderbolt. And I was armed with one gold spray-painted plastic apple. That and our

bed-sheet togas were all we had.

Screams and groans echoed in the dim mist all around us. I looked for some way around the growling mad demon dog. He

was standing guard over the one and only path out.

"How the heck did this happen?" said Fred. "One minute we're about to go onstage for our school play, the next minute

we're in hell."

"I believe it's called Hades, Cyclops head," said Sam. "Since I'm guessing that triple-headed drooler is Cerberus, guard dog

of the ancient Greek underworld."

"But that's not real," said Fred. "That's just mythology stuff like in the play. And things like this only happen when we mess

with The Book. And Joe swore he locked that thing up. And—"

Cerberus barked madly.

"And Joe? "said Sam.

"Well I kind of..." I said.

"Joe?" said Fred.

"I sort of..."

"JOE?!" said Sam and Fred.

"Okay I stuck The Book in my backpack because Uncle Joe is coming to the show tonight and I was going to give it back

to him but when Fred hit The Book and the script with the thunderbolt it must have set something off because that's when the

green mist started," I blurted out in one breath.

Sam and Fred looked at me like they were going to kill me.

Cerberus, three-headed dog of Greek mythology, looked at us like he was definitely going to kill us and enjoy eating us.

"I wouldn't say you're a perfect idiot," said Sam. "Nobody's perfect."

The beast was so close we could see its six bloodshot eyes.

"Well, do one of those magic tricks you're always talking about and get us out of here," said Fred.

I racked my brain for any good magic tricks for dogs.

"Sit!" I yelled. "Stay! Roll over! Play dead!"

Cerberus growled and stepped closer.

"Joe?" said Sam nervously. "I don't think this is working."

"This never fails," I said. I picked up a small rock and threw it into the gloomy mist. "Fetch!"

Not one of the three slobbering heads even turned to look.

One head locked its red eyes on Sam. One head stared at Fred. One head zeroed in on me. The thing was so close we

could see each thick black hair raised on its back and smell each blast of its roadkill breath.

The last thing I remember thinking was: "What a way to go, eaten by a nasty-smelling monster that isn't even real."

TWO

"I can just hear one of you smart guys out there saying, "How can you travel into Greek mythology? I thought The Book

could only travel through time."

Honestly, I have no idea how we ended up facing the three-headed dog of the underworld from Greek mythology.

Well, I have some idea, but it wasn't really my fault.

Okay, it was kind of my fault, but I was only trying to get things back to normal by putting The Book back in Uncle Joe's

hands.

See my life has been just too strange for words since my uncle Joe gave me this book for my birthday.

I'm sure you've got books for your birthday before. But this book is like no other book before or since. It's a small book. A

dark blue book with odd silver writing and symbols on it. It's a time-warping book.

And yes, I'll admit it. I have no idea how The Book works or how to control it. But I do know it's sent Fred, Sam, and me

back to the Stone Age, forward to the future, and even into other books.

One thing that always stays the same is the green time-traveling mist that comes out of The Book. The other thing is that

once we go somewhere, the only way we can get back is to find The Book in that new time or place.

Get it? Got it. Good.

Like I said, it wasn't my fault. But here's what I think happened:

Our whole grade was backstage in the school auditorium, five minutes before the first performance of our play The Myth of

Power. It was a play about gods and goddesses and mortals and monsters and all that Greek mythology stuff we were studying

in school. We had made some great sets of Mount Olympus (the mountain all the gods live on top of) and the underworld,

Hades.

The music teacher was the director, so most of the play was about how music is the answer for everything. But we helped

write a lot of the scenes, so all the gods and goddesses sounded like a bunch of wiseguys. We also got to make some excellent

thunderbolts to throw around, and wrote in a lot of fight scenes for the monsters.

Anyway—that's why we were all standing around at school dressed up in bed-sheet togas. Fred was a one-eyed Cyclops,

with an eye pinned on his Yankees hat. Sam was Orpheus, wandering around playing his lyre. I was Paris, the good-looking guy

who has to decide which goddess is the fairest and give her the golden apple.

While we waited, Sam was rereading his Book of Snappy Insults for the millionth time. We had been using all the good

ones for the past month, and even managed to get a few in the play. Fred was pacing, trying to remember all two of his lines.

And I think that's when it happened.

"Help me out, Joe," said Fred. "David says, 'Hey you guys—look!' Then do I say, 'We made those thunderbolts'? Or does

Charlie say his line first?"

"Cyclops Fred," said Sam, "if you had to live by your wits, you'd starve."

Fred picked up an aluminum-foil-covered thunderbolt and bopped Sam on the head with it.

I took my script out of my backpack. "Here it is. David says, 'Hey you guys—look!' Charlie says, 'Our thunderbolts.' Then

your line is, 'We made those thunderbolts.'" I stuffed the script back into my backpack.

"Something is preying on your mind, Fred," said Sam. "But don't worry. It will die of starvation."

Fred swung his thunderbolt again. Sam ducked. Fred missed. The thunderbolt hit my backpack. Something glowed weirdly

for a second inside my backpack. Then my pack started leaking green mist.

I saw the house lights go black. I heard the piano playing the beginning of the first musical number. Our Greek myth play

was starting. And Fred, Sam, and I were swirling off in a green mist time tornado farther and stranger than we'd ever gone

before.

THREE

Cerberus crouched, ready to spring.

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