“Fever,” Zoë said, her hand pressed against Mom’s forehead.

She and her siblings were hunched over their parents, trying not to look worried. Below them, Mom and Dad lay shivering in bed. The pair had the covers pulled up to their chins and thermometers sticking out of their mouths. They had caught the cold that was going around this winter.

“Is it starve a cold, feed a fever?” Abigail wondered. “Or is it the other way around. I can never remember.”

Andrew nudged her in the ribs playfully. “I’m pretty sure it’s starve the sisters, feed the brother,” he joked. “Especially at dessert.”

Mom ended the debate. “Chicken soup,” she requested.

“With crackers,” Dad added.

“Your wish is our command,” Abigail said with a bow.

“Forthright,” Zoë saluted, meaning the heroes would put on their aprons and get cooking immediately.

Downstairs they sped and into the kitchen. Abigail scooped up the spoons. Andrew cranked the can opener. And Zoë fanned the flames, all in the blink of an eye.

Or in Zoë’s case, without the blink of an eye. Because blinking would seriously mess up her aim. She had to have her eyes open to fire her lasers.

As they cooked, the heroes could hear the TV in the living room. The sound was mostly background noise until one commercial caught their attention. A snappy jingle started it off.

Feelin’ bad? Feelin’ blue?
Got morning breath?
Here’s what to do.

Drink some rinse. Drink some soup.
Drink Fowl Mouthwash.
It will cure you.

The commercial was for chicken soup mouthwash. It promised fresh breath and a cure for the common cold all in one. Who’d ever heard of such a thing?

But there it was on the heroes’ TV, and they wanted to believe what they saw. Their parents could sure use mouthwash like that now.

Besides, the man in the commercial was dressed in a chicken suit. He flapped his wings, danced, and sang. Though he was a stranger to the heroes, his silly costume convinced them to trust him.

Which was exactly what the man in the chicken suit wanted. His name was Henry Cooper, and he wanted viewers to trust him. He wanted them to believe.

Buy my mouthwash. Drink it, drink it. Say so long to bad breath. Say goodbye to colds. Just keep drinking until my mouthwash is all gone. Then you will be under my control.

Cock-a-doodle-DOOM!

End of preview Thanks for reading!

Copyright © 2008 Sigil Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.

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