Although the noodle is tempting, you decide that the fake
drama sword would make a better weapon. You grab it and run to the ladder in
the corner of the room. You need both hands to climb the ladder, so you put the
sword in your mouth and start up the rungs.
You barely stick your head through the opening at the top of
the ladder when you feel rough, leathery paws close around your shoulders.
Suddenly you are yanked off the ladder and into the vent. It is dark in the
ceiling and it takes your eyes a while to adjust, but when they do you can see Earl’s
pearly white fangs shining like sharp, pointy ipods at midnight.
As Earl begins to growl, you slowly raise a hand to take the
fake drama sword out of your mouth.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Earl snarls. But you are
pretty sure that the sword is your only hope.
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