Someone in Trouble

Chapter 9: Return to Sender

Safe and sound inside his lair Robbie was starting to feel better with some premium pampering. He'd run a bath over the brim with bubbles; put on his furriest slippers and slouchiest robe; doused an enormous bucket of popcorn with butter; and then, at last, he'd settled deeply in the cushy oversized confines of his recliner.

With the push of a button his TV set dropped down to eye level already broadcasting his favorite station, the shopping channel. Almost as soon as the next infomercial started to play Robbie fell asleep, spilling his popcorn across his lap and snoring louder than the show. He needed to get his energy back after all that horrendous moving around he'd done. Yes, he'd paid his dues to those annoying kids by going out there before. Now they had better keep it quiet so he could enjoy this nap.

In fact he did enjoy his nap so much that he slept into the evening and all through the night. He dreamt of basketball hoops half his height that he could easily stroll over to and drop the ball through the net over and over again. All the while a corral of horses neighed and stamped their hooves in approval of his hoop shooting prowess, clattering up a storm.

The banging and clattering noise was real! Robbie startled awake with a shout, spilling the rest of the popcorn off his lap. "STAMPEDE!" He slipped off his recliner and huddled down with his arms over his head, bracing himself for striking hooves.

It wasn't horses. Peering through his arms Robbie looked around the echoing chamber of his living quarters. What was that horrible banging and clanging racket? It sounded like the roof was going to come down on his head! He squinted up at the exposed network of chutes, tubes, and shafts that crisscrossed the ceiling of his bunker. The longer he looked and listened, he thought he could almost follow the noise as it rattled around up there.

Something was coming down one of the tunnels he used to access his lair, Robbie realized. He continued to listen and stare as he slowly got up on his feet. Was it some stray animal? He hoped not. There was nothing worse for an underground lair than a groundhog.

The clanging and banging reached a deafening crescendo before at last the unidentified falling object exited the vent with an ominous phwoomf. It was cylindrical, shiny, and hard as it shot out and hit Robbie right in the stomach. The air leapt out of his lungs with a woomf of his own and he fell back into his recliner so hard the chair almost flipped over.

Robbie sat dazed in his rocking chair and fumbled at the projectile in his lap. All he could gather was that it was some kind of canister. It took him a few seconds of staring to recognize it as one of the letter capsules the children normally used to contact Sportacus. A frown started to form in the corners of his mouth as the initial surprise wore off.

"Those KIDS. I play their vile game with them and they shoot this garbage down into my lair, making all that noise? And for what?"

This was one letter that would be Returned to Sender. But still, he couldn't help feeling curious. Nobody ever sent Robbie Rotten letters. What could those brats possibly have to write to him about? He twisted and strained with the cap until he could unscrew it. Inside the canister contained a single rolled up piece of paper for his troubles. He squinted at it and read aloud in a perplexed mutter.

"Let's see here. 'Robbie...' That's me... 'Come to the dock this afternoon... We have something for you?' What?" He scratched his head and flipped the paper over back and forth, looking for more of an explanation. "That's it? What kind of letter is this?"

Was this some sort of trick? It seemed like the kind of thing that Robbie would do if he wanted to lure someone right where he wanted them in order to spring a trap. Well, no lousy kids were going to trick him! He crossed his arms and sunk back deep into his seat, determining right then and there that he would not leave this spot for anyone or anything. They could wait up there all day if they wanted to. Nothing was getting him out of this chair.

Something rattled and banged high overhead. Robbie jerked his face towards the clamoring ruckus working its way through the pipes and chutes in the ceiling. It rambled and knocked louder and louder until finally there was a phwoomf— and a second letter canister shot out of one of the vents.

The capsule's trajectory was slightly off target and went flying right past Robbie's seat, skidding and clattering across the floor until it crashed into a pile of scrap metal somewhere out of sight. The echoes died down from the tunnels and left the lair in silence once more.

Robbie sat stiffly in his seat, his ears still ringing. His arms crossed so tightly across his chest he could barely breathe. A twitch tickled his nose. He started to tap one foot, then the other.

He sat there for ten seconds before scrambling out of the recliner and making a mad dash across the room. Robbie fell on hands and knees as he threw miscellaneous machine parts out of his way in his manic search to find the canister. He'd worked up a sweat by the time he unearthed the small cylindrical treasure. Sitting back on the floor he prized the lid off and pulled out the rolled up letter inside.

P.S.

This is not a trick

Please don't be late

Robbie stared at the post script and read it over again several times. His face didn't know whether to smile or frown. He had the letter clenched in his hands, ready to crumple it up savagely into a little ball while at the same time being careful not to cease the corners and ruin the penmanship.

Not a trick... a likely story.

But they said please...

Two letters in one day... that was a new record.

He sat there, torn between whether he should just tear up the letters or tuck them away somewhere for safe keeping. He glanced up towards the ceiling at the air ducts, vents, and pipes, listening for any more rumblings. But there was no more mail to be delivered, and nothing more to sway him one way or the other.