Villain's Lair Read Online Free Page B

door.

Chapter 6
CONFUSING, CONFOUNDING,
AND JUST PLAIN CREEPY
    â€œA burro?” Dave gasped. “In a
house!”
    But, of course, this was no ordinary house, and, as it turns out, this was no ordinary burro.
    â€œA
y caramba!
” Sticky gasped. “What is she doing here?”
    â€œGood question,” Dave replied, not fully grasping the significance of Sticky’s question
or
the
ay caramba!
    You see, there are
ay carambas
, and then there are
ay caRASAbas.
In Stickynese, they can mean anything from “oh brother” to “oh wow” to “the world is about to explode!”
    And this particular
ay caramba
was, without a doubt, an
ay caRASAba ay caramba.
    In other words, this burro was very bad news.
    â€œNo,
amigol
You don’t understand!” Sticky whispered frantically. “That’s Rosie!”
    â€œYou know this burro? Is she mean? Can she talk?”
    â€œTalk? No! She’s dumb as donkey dung!”
    â€œSo what’s the problem?”
    â€œThe problem,
señor
, is that she belongs to the Bandito Brothers!” He slapped his little gecko forehead. “Ay-ay-ay. I can’t believe they’re here.”
    â€œWait. Who are the Bandito Brothers?”
    Sticky looked everywhere but at Dave.
    â€œStickyyyyy…”
    â€œAll right, all right.” Sticky puffed out his little gecko chest in an attempt to stand tall. “I used to live with them, okay? Before I joined that back-stabbing treasure hunter.”
    â€œYou lived with banditos?
Bandits?”
    â€œSí, señor,”
Sticky said with a shrug. “What can I say? They accepted me.”
    Dave, who is no fool, put the pieces together lickety-split. “They accepted you because you had sticky fingers and would steal things for them?”
    Again, Sticky gave a little shrug. “Before me, they were poor as dirt. After me? They were loaded.” He looked out at the burro, who was chewing over an enormous pile of thistly, thorny weeds. “Those
bobos
banditos have teamed up with that
ratero
Black? I can’t believe it.”
    Dave’s face contorted in the way that only a very unhappy face can contort. “So we’re not dealing with just an evil, demented treasure hunter here? We’re also dealing with
bobos
banditos? How many?”
    â€œWell,” said Sticky, counting them off on his fingers, “there’s Tito—he’s big like an ox with a head full of rocks. There’s Pablo—he looks like a rat and stinks like a bat. And then there’s Angelo—he’s scar-faced and scary and ugly and hairy.”
    â€œI don’t care what they look like! How many are there? Three?”
    â€œOh, you care,
señor.
And
sí. Tres.”
    â€œAre you sure they’re here?”
    Sticky shrugged. “Why else would Rosie be here? She’s their transportation.”
    Dave’s face was now screwed around so far that one eye was almost covered by a cheek, and his mouth was twisted nearly to his ear. “Their transportation? The three of them ride one burro?”
    Again, Sticky shrugged. “It’s a tight fit.”
    â€œBut…how do you know that’s
their
burro? It could be a different donkey…couldn’t it?”
    At that moment, Rosie stopped feasting from her thistly, thorny mountain of weeds and turned to look at them. Her lips pushed forward, revealing a single, yellowed, bucked front tooth in the middle of her weed-filled mouth.
    â€œIt’s Rosie,” Sticky said, for there was no denying the dental details.
    At that moment, Dave considered turning back, which I’m sure you’ll agree was a prudent thing to consider. After all, he no longer had just the one dangerously demented villain to outwit. He now had three additional foes. And a buck-toothed burro to boot.
    But then Dave envisioned the return route out of the mansion: down the shaft (who knows how), into the knobless