"Come on Marv, we gotta go, it's showtime," Harry told his partner. "One more quick one, Harry," Marv told him. He launched into his final horrific--and mercifully brief--song of the evening: "There was bloooooooooooooooood on the sadddddddddle, and blooooooooooood aaaaaaaalllllll aroooouuuuuuuund, and a great big pudddlllllle of blooooooooood on the grooouuund."

"Get movin'!" Harry took his buddy by the coat sleeve and dragged him off the stage.

"Everybody stay where you are," Rooney ordered the student body as he put on his coat and followed the burglars out the door. He took a last look at the almost six hundred students huddled up in the gym, slated for premature death. "This is what you all get for falling in with Ferris," he sniggered quietly to them.

"General, why is it your intention to leave a squad behind in the building?" Lieutenant Maltin asked his superior officer as they exited the building through the bomb tunnel, "You do realize that if the plan is executed as you say, they'll be killed with everyone else."

"Lieutenant, I picked you up out of nowhere, and I can find replacements for the rest of the men easily," the general informed him, "My contacts with the Michigan Militia and the other militant groups can get me additional manpower if I need it. I need a rear guard in case LaGarde and his men try to come in after me, and they fit the bill best. In the meantime, I need you to give me the official countdown, starting now."

"Right," Lieutenant Maltin removed his watch, "Three minutes and twenty-five seconds till detonation."

The men pushed open the trapdoor at the end of the tunnel and trudged through the deep snowdrifts in the woods behind the school to the top of the hill the general had set up his mobile command post. Deep enough among the trees that the authorities couldn't see them, he'd arranged a table with seven detonators under a small tent with floodlights on their lowest possible setting. Two members of his command were connecting the final wires. "We're ready to blast at your command, sir," one of them told Blum.

"Very good," General Blum told them. He pulled out his binoculars and took a good look at the school through the trees. "Gentlemen, take your positions, I want this detonation to go like clockwork," he ordered. Vernon, Rooney, Harry, Marv, Sam, and Lenny strode over behind a detonator each. The seventh one remained unoccupied. "Isn't somebody going to take the last one?" the principal asked.

"Major, you take that one," General Blum ordered his son. Sherman turned pale. "Sir, with all due respect, I'd rather if someone higher ranking than me undertake this," he protested.

"Major," the general said coldly, "You have been given a direct order. Failure to comply will be grounds for court-martial and dishonorable discharge, among other penalties. Take up the detonator, am I clear?"

"Affirmative," Sherman reluctantly took his place at the last detonator.

"Two minutes and thirty-eight seconds until detonation," Lieutenant Maltin announced out loud.

Back in front of the school, there was an unexpected roar of snowmobile engines. Del and Neal zoomed up on two models they'd borrowed from the Walleyland backlot. "Who's in charge?" Del asked out loud as he dismounted.

"I am," General LaGarde and Agent Grissom said simultaneously. They eyed each other and said, "No you're not, I am!"

"I'M in charge now," Mayor Oaks spoke up, "And we're going in."

"Mr. Mayor, you can't do that now," Neal protested, "They're going to blow the school in about two minutes, and.....!!"

"I don't care, Neal," Mayor Oaks told him, "Our children are in trouble here." He hefted a large radio. "Fire Marshal Gotch, begin spraying the front entrance now," he ordered the fire chief.

Immediately, there was a large salvo of water from the hoses of the three fire trucks nearest the front of the school. Loud and confused shouts from the soldiers stationed nearest the doors as their glass shattered indicated the sprays had their intended effect. "Okay guys, let's go get them!" Mayor Oaks shouted loudly, waving his cops forward.

"He must be on marijuana," Neal commented, shocked at the mayor's new attitude.

"Well, at any rate, we've got to stop them from blowing the building," Del said, "Excuse me, general sir, you didn't give him the codes, did you?" he asked General LaGarde.

"Of course not," the shower curtain ring salesman was told, "We don't deal with terrorists like Blum that way."

"Thanks," Del patted him on the back. "Keep it that way." He rushed back over to Neal and said, "The ploy'll work. You've got the decoy?"

"Of course," Neal held up an identical briefcase to the one he'd been carrying around for the last few days. This one had been filled with harmless newspapers. It was going to be the "McGuffin" that would be the catalyst of their proposed plan, luring the general and the others into the park. "The question is," the advertising executive admitted, "Where exactly to find them in the woods."

"I think I see lights over there," Del pointed into the woods, "Let's get pumping quick."

"One minute and fifty-one seconds to detonation," Lieutenant Maltin announced loudly, holding his watch up for all to see.

"Are you sure you can't speed up the countdown?" Vernon asked him impatiently, "I really want to get out of here quick."

"All right, we're switching ahead to one minute twenty-six seconds," Maltin said, nodding to his boss, who nodded cruelly.

"Thanks," Vernon told him. Although he was still nervous about their endeavor, he was game enough to go ahead with it nonetheless. He hated the students too much.

"You go lure them off," Del told his friend as they cut the engines to their snowmobiles to avoid giving away their presence, "I'll cut the wires to the dynamite--if I can find them." "But Del, how.....?" Del sped off before Neal could finish the question. The marketer shrugged and pointed his snowmobile toward where the light was coming from.....but the engine wouldn't restart. "No, please, come on!" he begged it, kicking the ignition. It was no use; the transmission was dead. He glanced up the hill. It was about a quarter of a mile to his destination, and he had only slightly over a minute. He took off running as fast as he could--which wasn't very fast, since the snow was up to his thighs. Still, he pressed on.

Inside the school, Mayor Oaks and the cops were making great progress. Confused and off guard, the soldiers fell back toward the gym firing blindly into the smoke of the tear gas being fired at them. A few cops were hit, but not fatally. The mayor himself was a whirling dervish, delivering powerful blows to the troops that chose to face him. He was in the lead as they burst into the gym. He looked around for his daughter, praying she was alive.

"Fifty-six, fifty-five, fifty-four, fifty-three,....." Lieutenant Maltin continued counting down. Lenny pumped his hands together vigorously, ready to take some more lives, as he was used to doing. He nodded to Sam, who was equally ready to wreak havoc. They flexed their arms as the countdown continued: "forty-nine, forty-eight, forty-seven, forty-six,...."

Neal stumbled and fell. Groaning with self-dislike, he pulled himself to his feet as quickly as he could. He still had more than half of the hill to cover.....

It was pure pandemonium in the gym. Gunfire broke out everywhere. Blum's men launched everything at the cops, including grenades and flamethrowers, but they were still outnumbered, especially now that General LaGarde's men and Grissom's agents, seeing the huge gains the local police were making, had joined the fray. Soon the hostage-takers were surrendering en masse. But for Mayor Oaks, it wouldn't be over until he found Chandra. He barreled past the various clumps of students, eyeing them over for any sign of her. Until he heard......

"John Oaks!!" came a familiar shout to him. He turned slowly to see an old enemy standing behind him, holding his daughter at shovel-point. She'd been badly beaten, but at least she was still alive. "Morris Frye," he said softly.

"Dad!?" Chandra was shocked to see him, "Are you on marijuana?"

"Drop the weapon, Oaks, or I decapitate her!" Morris warned, brandishing the shovel, "This is razor-sharp, and her head'll come off with one fell swoop!"

"YOU put it down, or your head turns into a big piece of Swiss cheese!" the mayor threatened him calmly, "You're not going to do the same thing you and Chief Blum's kid did in South Bend."

"You're too late, Oaks; in about half a minute Dave and I'll do a hundred times worse than we did in South Bend!" Morris shouted, "Now put down the gun!"

"No," Mayor Oaks said. The two of them eyed each other hostilely.

"......thirty-three, thirty-two, thirty-one, thirty, twenty-nine......"

Neal slipped on an unseen patch of ice. He started to slide down the hill, but grabbed hold of a bush before the damage could be worse. He jerked himself up and poured on the gas.

"Gentlemen, hands on your plungers," General Blum ordered. The seven men took hold of the detonators. "It's blow time," Rooney sniggered to himself. It was a shame Ferris wouldn't be among the dead, but at least he'd still be setting an example to the student body for being so foolishly blind to the twerp's charm.

"Last chance, Oaks!" Morris barked at the mayor, "Drop it or she dies!"

"Okay," the mayor slowly put his gun to the ground. Morris laughed. "You're still stupid," he said coldly, then reared back the shovel, aiming its sharpest point for Chandra's neck......

"....sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve,....." Lieutenant Maltin was getting increasingly animated as the countdown approached zero. General Blum smiled coldly as he peered through his binoculars at the school. The blast would obliterate anything within a quarter of a mile, including the hated General LaGarde and the feds.

Neal almost stumbled again as he approached the crest of the hill. He hoped Del was having luck with the wires in case he was too late. The count had gotten down to four as he burst into the command area. "Hey General!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, "Look what I've got!"

He held the briefcase up high. Everything stopped as all the heads turned to look at him. General Blum was the first to recover. "Why are you stopping!?" he yelled at Maltin, "Continue the countdown!"

"Right," Maltin turned back to his watch, "Four, three, two, one, DETONATE!!!!"

"Oh no!" Neal covered his eyes, unable to watch the explosion. The men pressed down on their plungers......

Nothing happened.

"WHAT!!!???" just about everyone yelled at the lack of an explosion. Neal breathed a huge sigh of relief. Del had come through on his end.

"Reset!" General Blum ordered. His seven "executioners" pulled their plungers back up. "Three, two, one, DETONATE!!" Lieutenant Maltin repeated. Again, there was nothing when the detonators were activated. "Three, two, one, DETONATE!!!" the lieutenant was frantic now. By now only Marv was still trying to get a blast going, pushing down again and again on his plunger, half-expecting it to go off any minute. "What have you done!!??" General Blum roared at Neal.

"Oh, just doing my civic duty as a U.S. citizen," Neal said coolly, "I take it you want these?" he gestured with the briefcase.

"Those are my codes, so give them to me now!" the general demanded.

"You want them? Come and get them!" Neal taunted him, adding an unnatural, "Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah!!" for added effect. He took off running. Again the general recovered first. "Don't just stand there gaping, you idiots, kill him!!" he screamed at his men. They immediately started firing everything they had at the marketer. Neal ducked as bullets thunked into the trees all around him. "Come on Del, where are you!?" he thought to himself.

"Almost as if answering his plea, the shower curtain ring salesman zoomed onto the hill. "Need a lift?" he asked jokingly.

"How'd you do it, Del?" Neal asked as he swung himself on board the snowmobile.

"Diamond-studded ring," Del held up the shower curtain ring in question, "Cuts through anything, including dynamite wires."

A grenade landed a few feet to their left. Del gunned the snowmobile to the right just before it exploded. He pulled out a walkie-talkie. "They've taken the bait, Buck, we'll be at the park with them in about fifteen minutes," he told him.

"Gotcha Del," Buck told him, "We'll be ready."

"Mount up!" General Blum yelled at his men as they jumped into their vehicles and tore off after the snowmobile, "I want those codes if I have to blow up this whole stinking city!!" He clambered into nearby jeep. "He must be desperate to want to come to me, Douglas," he confided in the hawk, "Either that or he's on marijuana. This'll end quick, though, once we have him cornered." "I smell Ferris in this," Rooney said to Vernon as they jumped into the superintendent's car. "Ferris? Maybe, but I sense John Bender," Vernon told him. "Yer both wrong," Harry stuck his head in the window, "It's the kid. He just can't leave well enough alone when Christmas rolls around." "Why don't you go about your business and let us do ours!?" Rooney snapped at him. He snickered to Vernon once Harry was gone, "A ten-year-old doing this? Who's he kidding?"

With a sudden jerk, Mayor Oaks delivered a hard karate kick that disarmed Morris Frye. Before the Shovel Slayer could recover, the mayor had given him several hard blows. "Nobody attacks my family and gets away with it!" he shouted, "Especially you!" He shoved him down the refreshment table like in the movies. "And that's the final word!" he added. Turning to his daughter, he asked with great concern, "Did he hurt you?"

"He didn't, but his partner the general did," Chandra said. Her face brimmed with respect. "That was the most incredible thing I ever saw, Dad." "Well, I almost forgot how I took karate lessons when I was your age," her father said. He dropped penitently to his knees. "I'm so sorry I let you down, angel," he told her in a broken voice, "I told her I wasn't going to take any more from her on you, and from now on, NO ONE treats you bad."

"Oh Dad, "Chandra threw her arms around him, "It's so great to have you back!"

"And it's great to be back," her father hugged her close, "If anything had happened to you..."

"Hey, what happened here?" Polinski called out from up on stage. With the stroke of midnight, the polka master and his band had been returned to normal, "Where'd everybody go?" he asked, "And what the hell happened to all the Christmas trees?"

"Sir, where've you been for the last couple of hours?" Chief Radcliffe asked him, incredulous that Polinski would be asking something like that after the hostage crisis.

"Uh, I guess I've been here, weren't we guys?" Polinski asked his band mates, who shrugged in accordance.

"Oh well," the mayor shrugged, not all that interested in Polinski's apparent amnesia. He took his daughter by the hand. "Shall we leave this horror scene?" he asked her.

"Let's," Chandra agreed. They strolled out through the mayhem, which was starting to come to an end. "We got them all, sir," one of the cops told him as they went down the hall, "We can't find this general guy anywhere, but we're still looking."

"Good job, Sal," the mayor commended him.

"And good job to you too, Mr. Mayor," Agent Grissom came up and congratulated him, "You showed incredible courage under pressure to lead your forces in here."

"Mr. Grissom, Morris Frye is unconscious back there in the gym; he's the real South Bend Shovel Slayer," the mayor told the FBI man, "Please take him into custody."

"But you can't prove that, Dad," Chandra told him.

"Oh yes I can," Mayor Oaks withdrew a tape recorder from his pocket. He rewound it and pressed Play: "...in about half a minute Dave and I will do a hundred times worse than we did in South Bend!" Morris conveniently confessed on it. "I think that should be enough to convict, Mr. Grissom," the mayor told him, "And I'm willing to testify to his guilt before a grand jury if possible."

Agent Grissom nodded emphatically. They exited the school to thunderous applause from the people outside. He was swarmed by a host of reporters, asking various forms of the same questions about what was going through his mind when he'd led the police in. "Please, please, I'd rather not answer any questions right now," he told them, forcing a path through them. As he emerged on the other side, he noticed the rest of his family before him. "What are you doing here?" he asked them.

"We saw you on the news," his wife said. Mayor Oaks noticed a distinct change in her voice--a softening and sympathetic edge that hadn't been there for years. "Then we heard you'd gone in. I was worried, John. Worried you'd get killed. Worried our daughter--my daughter would get killed." Her gaze shifted over to Chandra. "Oh honey I'm so sorry about everything," she said, a maternal and sorrowful look oozing out of her face and soul, "I had no right to treat you like I have. I forgot how much you used to mean to me. How much you still mean to me. I can understand if you still don't want to forgive me. I'll be honest enough to say that I don't deserve it the way I've been the last few years. But from now on, I'll won't let money and prejudice come between us again."

Chandra broke into a huge smile. "Welcome back, Mom," she said, "Of course I can forgive you. What made you come back?"

"Your father," she told her, "He showed me the light I'd lost sight of. All this time I'd thought I'd be happy with enough money, but now I realize I'm nothing without family and loved ones. Including you, angel dearest." The two of them rushed to each other and hugged. "Thank you, John," Mrs. Oaks told her husband over the embrace, "Your courage saved both her and me."

"I'd do anything for my family, Victoria," Mayor Oaks said, hugging her and their daughter together, "Even when they've been blinded to what matters. I forgive you too. I always have."

Applause broke out from several bystanders who'd been listening in on the conversation. Tyler joined the embrace, followed by Zachary, who was more reluctant. There was the sound of pushing through the crowd. "Who's in charge here?" Kate called out loud.

"I am, sort of," Agent Grissom hustled up to her, "Grissom, special Chicago division. What is it, madam?"

"Sir, I have vital information about the escaped fugitives from the other day," Kate told him, "They're at O'Hare, and they'll be boarding a flight to Trinidad in about forty minutes. U.S. Airways. They're working for Mr. Rooney, he's planned what happened here. Has my son been here? He's...." "How do you know all this, madam?" General LaGarde asked her.

"It was the Wet Bandits, they kidnapped us and blabbed the entire plan to us," Kate told him.

"Oh, the Wet Bandits," Sergeant Vane chuckled nearby, "Only they would be stupid enough to do that."

"Antonson, put out an A.P.B. on this Rooney character," General LaGarde ordered his adjutant, "And send out a unit to the airport to see if this woman's story's accurate. Have the sappers comb the building and defuse any remaining explosives that might....."

"Excuse me, have you seen my son?" Kate shoved a picture of Kevin in LaGarde's face. "No, Miss, I can't rightly say I have," he said.

"Kate, I caught a glimpse of him briefly over by the blockade about twenty minutes ago, but I haven't seen him since," the mayor told her, "Why are you......?"

Kate ran off before he could finish the sentence. "Kevin!" she called out in an ear-splitting voice into the endless crowd.

"Where's Brian, Dad?" Chandra asked him, "Is he OK?"

"Mr. Mayor, we can't find any of the people that got out of the gym before you went in," Chief Radcliffe ran over to him.

"What do you mean you can't find him?" the mayor frowned.

"They just up and left," the chief admitted, "They must have wandered off in the confusion. We'll look for them."

He rushed off. Mayor Oaks's brow furled. Where could everyone have gone?

"Buck, you know I'm not good with computers," Roger told his friend as he plopped down in front of several of the security cameras in the control room, "I want my conscience eased as much as you do, but I don't think I'll really be able to help in this capacity."

"Well it's all I had left," Buck told him, "Everyone else's been assigned to a section of the park."

"What you're asking us to do here is crazy, Buck," Rocco said, hands on his hips, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were on marijuana."

"Well I'm not, so that should put your mind at ease," Buck said, "Ask Kevin if you want to go into the marijuana discussion; it was his idea in the first place."

"Who's Kevin?" George asked him. Before Buck could answer, his walkie-talkie blared to life. "Mr. Russell, I can see them now," Samantha announced from atop the observation deck on the castle's top parapet, "They're just entering the parking lot now, and they're really shooting at them."

"Thanks Sam," Buck told her. He strolled over to the main console and switched on the park's PA system. "Okay everyone, here they come; get to your first stations," he announced.

"What am I supposed to do here?" Roger was still befuddled by the consoles before him.

"Here, let me give you a hand," Gary leaned over from his own computer, "First you click on here, then go to Park Settings. I guess you want the park dark now, Mr. Russell?"

"Yeah, that'll be good," Buck said, "Turn out the lights." He jaunted over to the main tape deck and stuck a tape from his pocket into the slot. He then picked up a remote detonator. "This is going to scare them good," he chuckled.

Cecil and Percy rubbed against his legs. Buck had picked up the dogs from Bob's, having a feeling they could be crucial to the plan at large (nor was he the only one who'd thought that pets could be useful). "Not yet, guys," he told them, "You'll come in a little later."

Down in the parking lot, Del gunned toward the front gate. In fact, he managed to jerk the snowmobile right off the ground and shoot right over it with only inches to spare between him and the ceiling of the ticket window. "Not so close next time!" Neal protested.

"Sorry," Del pulled a hard left into the riding stables, where the two men jumped off and pulled a tarp over the snowmobile. Then they slipped out through a service door in the rear of the stables. The orphans were waiting for them there. "No problems?" Danny asked them.

"Nothing that would disrupt what we have in mind here," Del told him with a smile. He'd become a bit attached to the orphans while they'd been rigging the park into a war zone--even though Kevin hadn't said a word to him about them yet. "Is Kevin positive this'll work?" he asked them.

"He says it'll definitely work on the crooks," Kayla said, "He can't vouch it'll stop the others, though. We'll have to all work together and hope for the best."

"We're already doing the last part," Del said. He cracked open the door a tad. "Want to stay and watch it start?" he asked the three of them. They nodded eagerly.

Out front, there were multiple loud explosions. The soldiers had failed to noticed the nails laid out on the road in front of the park and blew out their tires as a result. "Perfect!" General Blum growled, jumping down to the sidewalk and examining the extensive damage to his vehicle's wheels, "But if they think this'll slow us down, they're dead wrong!" He waved his troops forward toward the park. The leading soldiers kicked the gate open and stormed into the park--then stopped, unsure of what to do next.

"Well don't just stand there!" General Blum shouted, "Find them!"

"In this mess?" Private Ebert wondered. Their bravado gone, everyone looked around hesitantly, half-expecting something to strike out of the darkness. The general raised his megaphone to his lips. "Now hear this!" he bellowed, "We know you're hiding in here, and we're prepared to tear this whole park apart to get you, so come out now unless you want to really suffer the consequences!"

There was no response. Harry grabbed the megaphone off the general. "Okay kid!" he barked, 'I know you're behind this shenanigan somehow! Like the guy said, ya'd better surrender now, 'cause this time we gotcha outnumbered a million to one!"

"Wow, there's really a million of us?" Marv asked, awed. Harry ignored him. "We ain't gonna show no mercy this time, kid, so save yourself the aggravation, 'cause we ain't fallin' for nuttin' this time around!" he continued. Again, there was no answer. "Well, where are ya?" he asked loudly.

"Get ready to give them a warm welcome," Buck told the people on the computers, "in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, NOW!!!" As everyone hit the keys to light the park back up, he hit the play button on the tape deck, and the soldiers leaped in the air in fright as Main Street lit back up to the pounding overture of the former HBO Feature Presentation theme. Several of them started firing away wildly at the store fronts, destroying numerous lights and windows. "Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" General Blum shouted to his command, to no effect. Buck took the confusion to press several buttons on his detonator, igniting Bender's paint bombs, which had been hidden under the snow on the street, and causing even more mayhem. Some of the jumpier soldiers took off running in shock, thinking they were under fire. Those that headed up Main Street didn't notice the large tarp covering an open manhole, which they promptly fell down into with a loud splash.

Once his first strike arsenal had been used up and had splatter several people with paint, including Champlin, Buck switched the PA system back on. "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" he announced jovially. "Where are you, Private Russell!?" his former commanding officers shouted, waving his Colt .45s in all directions, "If you think you can beat me in a battle of wits, you're quite literally dead wrong! Where've you put my codes!?"

"Ah, your codes, now that's the question of the night," Buck said, "I guess I can tell you that they're somewhere here in the park, but you're going to have to find them. It's like a big Easter egg hunt, only it's on Christmas Eve and it can really hurt you. And hurt you it will, because HERE IT COMES: from the beautifully Walleyland U.S.A. here in Chicago, it's Shermer's most exciting evening of thorough misery, the fabulous as-long-as-it-takes...."

Chanice tapped him on the shoulder. "Don't overdo it!" she told him, "We're just inciting them, remember?"

"Well there's nothing that says I can't incite them creatively, Chanice," Buck said in self-defense. He turned back to the mike and added, "So catch us if you can, losers!" and stuck out his tongue over the airwaves for extra effect.

Needless to say, Blum was less than pleased. "Very well, Private, but remember you asked for it!" he shouted into his megaphone. He turned to his command. "We're going to go building to building and take him out," he told them, "Spread out and search this damn park! Colonel, you take half the command to the left up there, Major you go to the right. Shoot to kill. About thirty of you stay back here with me; I need reserves just in case."

"Just in case of what, sir?" Maltin asked, but the general waved him off. He'd noticed movement inside the stables. Putting his finger to his lips to his reserves, he personally crept over to the doors and peered inside. He could see nothing, but there was definitely someone inside. He fired several shots in the direction of the sounds and charged in--and was too slow to react as two horse hooves hit him clean in the chest and sent him flying all the way across Main Street, where he crashed backward through the bakery's window into a large cake display.

"Sir, are you all right?" Maltin ran up to his boss. Covered in cake, the general slowly heaved himself to his feet. "Of course I'm all right you imbecile!" he snapped at the lieutenant, "It would take a lot more than that to hurt me!"

"Watch out, mad horse!" another soldier shouted as the horse, enraged over being shot, charged out of the stable and ran over several troops who weren't fast enough to get out of its way. The rest of the soldiers in the area dove for cover as it barreled at top speed toward the hub. "It's only a horse, you fools!" Blum shouted at them, "Ignore it and find me those codes!" He turned to his hawk. "Douglas, you the only person here I can trust completely; get airborne and find me some targets to shoot at."

He snapped his fingers twice, and Douglas took off into the cold December sky. Behind the stable door, Del peaked out at the mayhem on Main Street. "Well, I'd say we're off to a good start," he told Neal and the orphans.

"I guess so, considering the gravity of what we're doing," Neal agreed, "Just so you know, though, Del, I'm not paying the bill if Roy Walley nails us for damages to his park."

"Oh come on, Roy Walley's a nice guy; I think he'd understand," Del said, "I watch his show every week, you know; he's not the type to fly off the handle just because we're wrecking his dream park to save the free world."

"Are you guys okay there?" Buck asked over the walkie-talkie. "Yep Buck, we're doing fine," Del said, "I guess you saw them get the startling of a lifetime up there."

"Yep, and boy are they in for a shock when they see what else we've got in store for them," Buck said, "You guys get to your next station; the fun is about to begin!"