Mr. Chickee's Messy Mission Read Online Free PDF Page A

bobbing his head.
    “If I'm going to keep what's mine, I'm going to have to do what I did to Dr. T., I'll have to go in with the eye of the tiger!”
    Steven started ducking and bobbing and growling and looking mean while he danced around the room.
    He threw his hands above his head and screamed, “Yes! Yes! I'm ready! Cyrus-Herndon is through! This is
my
club, this is
my
house, this is
my
world, baby, Richelle's just a squirrel trying to get a nut!”
    Steven's dad had peeked in the room to see what the big ruckus was, saw his son ducking, bobbing, weaving, growling and looking mean, and thought to himself, “Some of the time I don't know about that boy.”
    Now Steven said to Russ, “Is there any old business that needs to be taken care of?”
    Russell looked at his paper and said, “No, Mr. President, all that business is what we secretaries call moldy-oldie and isn't worth talking about anymore.”
    Steven was geeked! Steven was ready! He took a deep breath, swallowed hard, said to himself, “Eye of the tiger, eye of the tiger, eye of the tiger …,” then asked, “Okay, is there any
new
business that we need to take care of?”
    Russell said, “Yes, Mr. President, I've thought up a new way for us to make a bunch of money to put in our savings account.”
    This wasn't what Steven was expecting.
    “Really?”
    “Really. Remember when the big power blackout came last year?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Remember how all the phones stopped working and all the ovens and stoves and microwaves stopped cooking?”
    “Yeah.”
    “And remember how my mummy wanted to call for a pizza to be delivered, but there weren't any phones that worked?”
    “I wasn't at your house, but I believe you.”
    “And remember how hungry I was and—”
    Steven said, “Mr. Secretary, what is your moneymaking plan? We don't have all day.”
    “Well, I figured out a perfect way to solve that problem and get lots of cash!”
    “What, Russell, what?”
    “What's the stupidest bird you know about?”
    “Mourning doves.” Steven almost asked what in the world that had to do with power failures and making money, but he knew once Russell started telling one of his schemes, the best thing to do was to go along for the ride.
    “Okay, and a mourning dove looks a lot like a pigeon, right?”
    “I guess so.”
    “And pigeons get trained to deliver messages, they can fly for hundreds of miles, can't they?”
    “Yes, Russell.”
    “Okay, here's my plan, and it solves all the problems when the power goes out and you're hungry.”
    Steven waited.
    “All we got to do is train
chickens
to deliver messages! They're a little smarter than pigeons, and when there aren't any phones and you're starving, all you have to do is get a message delivered to you by a chicken. Then you read the message a-n-d …”
    Russell dragged the word out waiting for Steven to answer.
    Steven gave a confused look to Richelle, who was looking just as confused.
    Finally Steven said, “You read the message and what, Russell?”
    Russell said, “And you eat the chicken!”
    Richelle Cyrus-Herndon couldn't bite her tongue anylonger. She felt that there were times you had to let some of the ridiculous stories people told just slide, but when something was extremely ridiculous, you had to set the person straight.
    She said, “But how would someone know to send you a mess—”
    Steven banged the table leg on his desk.
    “You're out of order! No one called your name to speak. You're gonna have to be quiet. You're not even a Flint Future Detective yet!”
    Richelle shook her head, tapped her foot and chewed her lip.
    Steven needed the meeting to move on. He needed to get to the new business that would require all of his training and strength.
    “Wow, Russell!” he said. “That's a great idea, we'll work on that one later. Now, is there any other new business?”
    Russ cleared his throat. “Yes, Mr. President, we have two new people who wanna join the Flint Future Detectives