The Hokey Sandwiches

The Uh-Oh Adventures
Of
Mr. Unlikely:
The Hokey Sandwiches

By Timothy Kennedy

          “Phooey. The prices went up on Yekoh’s sandwiches,” Mr. Unlikely muttered to himself when he was at Michelin’s Market. “I wonder why it’s a different colored package.” Mr. Unlikely seemed deep in thought about the sandwich until he finally spoke. “Hey, cool! They have macaroni on them now! These must’ve just come out!”
         Mr. Unlikely was a short plump man who wore an expensive-looking deep purple suit. Many people were casting him strange looks as Mr. Unlikely raved on about the sandwiches.
         “...and a little package of ketchup and three sausages are included!” he said, grinning. “Cool!”
         “Hey, Cuthbert!”
         Mr. Unlikely turned to see who had called. It was his friend, Mr. Tut. Tut was short and plump like Mr. Unlikely, but his height and his width would be the last thing people would notice.
         Mr. Tut had huge circular sunglasses and wore a lime green baseball cap backwards on his head. On his face, he had large bushy eyebrows and a goatee that was dyed red. Tut also wore a yellow t-shirt that had “AWESOME!” imprinted on it.
         “Hey, Timmy!” Mr. Unlikely said, shaking Mr. Tut’s hand. “How’s it been going?”
         “Pretty good, man, pretty good!” Mr. Tut said gruffly. “Was just wondering if you wanted to come over today for lunch. We can eat some of them new macaroni sandwiches.”
         “That’d be great, Timmy!” Mr. Unlikely said putting his hands in the pockets of his purple jacket. “One o’ clock, maybe?”
         “Sure thing!” Mr. Tut said, grinning. “See you at one!”
         In a few hours, Mr. Unlikely was pulling into Mr. Tut’s driveway. Mr. Tut had a lime green house right in the center of Ringingburgh. Mr. Unlikely went to the door and rang the bell. It opened to Mr. Tut’s grinning face.
         “Michelin Market,” he said, his eyes rolling and his tongue hanging out of his mouth. “Sandwiches, forty dollars. Ha, ha, ha!” Mr. Unlikely stopped in his tracks. Mr. Tut had never acted like this before.
         “Timmy, what the heck is up with you?” Mr. Unlikely asked worriedly.
         “Vault sixteen in the sandwich factory, please,” Mr. Tut said, laughing and grinning even more. “Ha, ha, ha!”
         “This isn’t like you,” Mr. Unlikely said frowning. “Now, if you would excuse me, I want to see what’s going on.” He pushed past Mr. Tut and went on into the kitchen.
         There were two places set at the table, each with a sandwich and a few cookies. One of the sandwiches had a bite taken out of it.
         He started eating without me? Mr. Unlikely thought uncertainly. I wonder if the sandwich might possibly have something to do with his weird mood. I say Timmy’s gone completely hokey!
         “Hokey!” Mr. Tut said, walking into the room. “Hokey, hokey, hokey! Ha, ha, ha!”
         Ignoring him the best he could, Mr. Unlikely walked back into the living room, just as a terrible thought came into his mind.
         If the sandwich Mr. Tut bought might have made him hokey, then everyone else who bought macaroni sandwiches would possibly be in the same strange mood Mr. Tut was in.
         “492-8750,” Mr. Unlikely said to himself while he dialed Mr. Tut’s phone. He waited a few moments before speaking. “Hello? Melvin Remiehnekrow? Oh, hi, Melvin.” Pause. “Oh, I guess I’m doing fine enough. Have you ever met my friend Tim Tut?” Pause. “Well, I saw him at Michelin’s Market this morning and he invited me over to his house for lunch, but when I got there...” Pause. “No, he’s not sick, but it’s just as bad. He’s gone completely hokey!” Pause. “Yes, hokey! And I mean that!” Pause. “No, I didn’t leave him alone at his house. I’m calling on his phone.” Pause. “Anyway, I wanted to ask if you have any idea how he got his weirdo mood?” Pause. “No? Dang! Hey, how about you come over to Tut’s place so we can talk about this better.” Pause. “905 Barns Avenue. Yup. See you here. Bye, Melvin.”
         A few minutes later, Mr. Unlikely was getting up from the kitchen table and opening Mr. Tut’s front door to Melvin Remiehnekrow.
         “Michelin Market, sandwiches, forty dollars!” Mr. Tut said after Mr. Remiehnekrow walked in, followed closely by Mr. Unlikely. “Ha, ha, ha!”
         “I see what you mean about being ‘hokey,’” Mr. Remiehnekrow said.
         “Yeah, I know,” Mr. Unlikely said, sitting down on the couch. “He’s been acting like this ever since I got here.”
         “I forgot to tell you on the phone,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said. “But this morning, when I was driving back from work, I saw a group of people were just standing by the street, each holding a sandwich, each sandwich with a single bite taken out of it. I didn’t stop to see what was going on, but I did think it was kind of strange that people would just be standing outside on a cold day like today holding sandwiches.”
         “So maybe Mr. Tut isn’t the only one who’s gone hokey,” Mr. Unlikely said, smiling.
         “But it’s not like the people were acting weird,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said. “They were just standing there.” Neither of the men said anything for a while.
         “What could have given people these moods?” Mr. Remiehnekrow continued.
         “I just thought of something,” Mr. Unlikely said, standing up. “What if the sandwiches were what did it? What if we stopped the certain sandwiches from being made? Do you think it’s just mere coincidence that the people with weird moods are always holding sandwiches?” Mr. Remiehnekrow was speechless.
         “You mean just barge into some sandwich factory and say ‘Stop making these sandwiches because we think that they put people in weird moods?’” he said.
         “Yup,” Mr. Unlikely said. “It doesn’t hurt trying.”
         “Even if we were to try that, which sandwich factory would we go to?” Mr. Remiehnekrow said. “There’s quite a few just in Ringingburgh. Redemon’s, Yekoh’s, Moothies?”
         “I’m just guessing, but it’s probably Yekoh’s,” Mr. Unlikely said. “At Michelin’s Market, Mr. Tut said that I could come over for lunch and that we could eat some of the new macaroni sandwiches. Yekoh’s is the first company to make macaroni sandwiches.”
         “Fine,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said at last. “We’ll go, but I doubt that’s the cause of the hokey moods. There’s got to be something else.”
         “Could I use your car?” Mr. Unlikely asked.
         “Sure,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said. “Should we bring Tim?” Mr. Unlikely shrugged.
         “Okay,” he said. “I don’t think we should leave him here alone.”
         The three men went outside and got inside of Mr. Remiehnekrow’s small purple car. Mr. Unlikely started up the car and sped off.
         “Don’t bash up this car,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said. “It’s still fairly new.” The car started speeding up as it zoomed through the sub-divisions. 50, 70, 85 miles per hour. The car just looked like a small purple streak.
         “You realize that we’re going way over the speed limit,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said, worriedly looking at the speedometer.
         “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot that you’re a police officer,” Mr. Unlikely said, smiling. They were now out of the sub-divisions and roaring through downtown Ringingburgh.
         “Watch out!” Mr. Remiehnekrow shouted. They just missed running into a police car. Its lights started flashing and its siren went on.
         “We’re almost there,” Mr. Unlikely said.
         “We should pull over,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said. The small car slowed down and went over to the side of the road. The police car stopped behind them.
         “Let me see your license,” the officer said when all of them had gotten out of their cars. The officer noticed Mr. Remiehnekrow behind Mr. Unlikely. “Hey, Melvin! You weren’t the one driving, were you?”
         “No,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said, shaking his head.
         “I’m going to let you off,” the officer said. “But only this once. Make sure you’re going the speed limit.”
         “I’m driving this time,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said, as the two men hopped back into the car.
         In about fifteen minutes, they were pulling into the parking lot of Yekoh’s Sandwich Factory.
         “Wow, this place is big!” Mr. Remiehnekrow said in awe.
         “Yeah,” Mr. Unlikely agreed. “But where do you suppose we get in?” He scanned the building for a door. The parking lot was about half a mile wide and at least a mile long, so it was hard for him to see the tiny door going into the building.
         “I see an entrance,” Mr. Unlikely pointed out. “But it’s quite a long walk. Let’s park closer.”
         Mr. Remiehnekrow drove slowly towards the factory. The front half of the parking lot was packed with cars, but the rest of it was empty. They parked in the closest space they could find.
         “Should we bring Timmy in?” Mr. Unlikely asked.
         “No, let’s leave him out here,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said. The two men walked over to the door going into the building. They now saw that the door had a sign on it that read ‘Get All Yekoh’s Sandwiches Here at the Sandwich Shop!’ They ran quickly towards the door.
         When they went in, they saw that the shop was tiny compared to the entire factory. At the counter, there was a lady wearing a pink Yekoh’s t-shirt, and a pink Yekoh’s hat.
         “How may I help you?” she asked.
         “We were wondering where that door leads to,” Mr. Unlikely asked quickly, spotting a door behind the lady.
         “Employees only,” she said, frowning. “Now, would you like to try a sample of our new macaroni-?”
         “No!” Mr. Remiehnekrow said loudly. “All we’d like is to go through that door!”
         “Then, I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” the lady said. “Have a nice afternoon!”
         “It had better not get any worse,” Mr. Unlikely muttered. The two men suddenly sprinted around the counter, pushed past the lady, and went through the door.
         BREE! BREE! INTRUDER ALERT! BREE! BREE!
         Lights flashed all around the two men and it was quite a while before they noticed that they were in a long corridor. At the end of the corridor was a huge door that was closing slowly.
         “Run for that door!” Mr. Unlikely shouted over the noise. “Get through it before it closes!” The men started running down the long corridor. If we want to get through that door, Mr. Unlikely thought. We’ll have to run pretty darn fast.
         Just as the two men reached the door, it closed the last little bit. Mr. Unlikely sat down on the floor, trying to catch his breath.
         “Hey, look at this!” Mr. Remiehnekrow said, grinning. “This door says ‘Vault 106.’ These might be the vaults Tut was talking about!” Mr. Unlikely stood up quickly, a grin on his face, too. “They probably have something to do with how we can put them back to normal. Let’s start looking for vault 16!”
         “The vault numbers go lower that way,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said, pointing back down the corridor towards the sandwich shop. Mr. Unlikely started walking quickly back down the corridor.
         “Vault 73,” he muttered to himself. He walked farther down the corridor, and then paused to see what vault he was at.
         “Vault 35,” Mr. Unlikely said. He then walked even further down the corridor and paused at one of the vaults.
         “Ah-ha!” he said, grinning. “I’ve found it!” Mr. Remiehnekrow caught up with Mr. Unlikely.
         “But we need a code, or something,” he said, pointing to a letter pad on Vault 16. “Did Tut say anything related to this?” Mr. Unlikely racked his brain, trying to think of something else Mr. Tut had said.
         “Timmy only said this once,” he said. “‘Michelin Market, sandwiches, forty dollars.’”
         “Then let’s try that,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said, typing it into the pad.
         “But that’s not related enough!” Mr. Unlikely said.
         “It’s the only choice we’ve got,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said.
         “I’ve just been thinking,” Mr. Unlikely said. “What if those were just random things that Timmy was saying? What if we just came to this factory for no particular reason, and this whole thing is just a waste of time?”
         “It was your idea from the beginning,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said. “There, I finished typing it in.” The two men backed away from the giant vault door. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then there came a low rumbling and the door slowly began to open. The last thing the men saw was a million green things falling like an avalanche toward them.
         “Brussels sprouts!” Mr. Remiehnekrow shouted, breaking the surface of a sea of green. “Brussels sprouts are illegal in Ringingburgh!” Mr. Unlikely’s head popped out of the brussels sprouts.
         “Let’s get out of this factory,” he said. “Bring lots of brussel sprouts. They might come in handy.”
         “This was a wasted trip,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said grumpily.
         “I guess those were just random things Timmy was saying,” Mr. Unlikely said, taking handfuls of brussels sprouts and putting them in his pockets. “Except I’m sure Yekoh’s is making hokey sandwiches.”
         “Yeah, and somebody’s got to stop them,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said.
         “My pockets are filled up,” Mr. Unlikely said. “Let’s go.” After walking through heaps of brussels sprouts, the men came to the door of the sandwich shop, but when they opened it, they stopped in their tracks.
         There, in front of them, stood the shop lady, looking angrier than ever. Behind her were two security guards.
         “Stop where you are!” one of the guards said.
         “RUN!” Mr. Unlikely shouted, and they ran fast. In about fifteen seconds, Mr. Unlikely was starting the car and driving away.
         “I hope they don’t follow us,” he said.
         “I’m calling the cops,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said, pulling out his cell phone.
         After he had called the police and told them what happened, he turned to Mr. Unlikely.
         “The cops are on their way,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said. Then he pulled out a brussels sprout out of his pocket.
         “Nasty little things aren’t they?” he said. Then, as if out of nowhere, they heard someone smacking their lips. The two men turned to see Mr. Tut staring hungrily at the brussels sprout.
         “Well, you can have it,” Mr. Remiehnekrow said, tossing the brussels sprout to Mr. Tut. “There’s a lot of them and I’m not going to eat any.”
         Mr. Tut stuffed it into his mouth and then a disgusted look came onto his face.
         “What the heck am I eating, man?” Mr. Tut said loudly. “The dang thing tastes horrible!” He spit the brussels sprout out and then looked around. “Where am I?”
         “Holy cow!” Mr. Remiehnekrow shouted happily. “Brussels sprouts must be the antidote to hokiness!”
         “I told you they’d come in handy,” Mr. Unlikely said, grinning.
         “Hey!” Mr. Tut said, as an even more confused look appeared on his face. “What the heck are you two doing here?”
         “It’s really hard to explain,” said Mr. Remiehnekrow.
         “You what, Melvin?” Mr. Unlikely said. “It wasn’t a wasted trip the factory after all! We found an antidote, so we found what we were looking for!”

The End