When last we saw her, our fair hero delivered a crushing defeat to the nefarious Baron Von Stabbington, Master of the Seven Sporks. In her moment of triumph, however, Invisalingua fell into a dastardly trap set by the REAL arch-villain, The Calculatrix! We join her now as she struggles to escape from captivity…
The chains were far too thick. Invisalingua struggled against them anyway, refusing to sit and wait for defeat. “Curses!” she cursed in Swahili, Tagalog, Mandarin, and Chitterskitterwittermitter, the language of groundhogs. “What good does speaking all languages do against iron?” Even turning invisible didn’t help. She did it anyway, though. The air turned a pretty, sparkly blue whenever she was invisible. If one was in a hopeless pickle, she reasoned, it might as well be a pretty, sparkly hopeless pickle.
“Eight plus four is twelve!” a voice called from the shadows.
A wave of force smacked Invisalingua back against the wall her bonds protruded from. “AARGH!” she arghed in Swedish, her favorite language with which to express shock.
“You’re right, Invisalingua,” the velvety voice taunted. “You have no power here. In my lair, only numbers hold sway. Your words mean nothing.”
Invisalingua’s face scrunched in confusion. “….okaaaay. You know, you should probably work on your villainous taunting, because that wasn’t very scary.”
“Ten times ten is one hundred!”
Invisalingua lifted into the air and smacked against the wall again. Dazed, she felt her invisibility slip away. “Dag-nabbit!” she spat in HooHooHoo, the language of owls.
The too-smooth voice cackled and her captor stepped into view with a flourish, flashing a purple cape bedazzled with plus and minus signs. “Language and mathematics. There are no two more natural enemies, Invisalingua. You chose the path of hippies and bearded professors, while I mastered the code that binds the universe.”
“Yeah?” Invisalingua challenged. “Well….I can talk to….uh, birds and Germans and stuff! And I can turn invisible. I know that’s two powers, but shut up. You’re just jealous that I can make friends in any country, while you can only talk to….comets and rockets and….stuff.”
The Calculatrix’s eyes flared with rage. “The square root of 144 is twelve!”
More thick chains exploded from the wall behind Invisalingua and wrapped tightly around her wrists and ankles, threatening to cut off her circulation. “You’re such a mean lady!” she cried in Portuguese, her favorite language with which to judge someone.
The Calculatrix cackled with malevolent glee. “Looks like your number’s up!” She inhaled a deep breath. “One million times one million equals -” Her attack cut off mid-sentence as a pair of tiny legs smacked her in the forehead, sending her tumbling to the dank, dusty floor.
“Not so fast, li’l lady!” a small voice exclaimed. A 13-inch tall cowboy dropped from a comically tiny rope and planted his cute little boots on The Calculatrix’s forehead. “Where I hale from, killin’ folks with math is considered bad form.”
Invisalingua whooped for joy in Japanese, her favorite language with which to express glee. “Tiny Man! I knew you’d find me!”
“Don’t mention it, ma’am,” Tiny Man said, tipping his adorable little hat. “All in a day’s oooph!”
Invisalingua cringed as an orange blur flew through the air and knocked her savior from his perch atop their enemy. The next instant he lay flat on the floor, looking up at a house cat nearly twice his size. The ill-tempered feline leaned down and hissed in his face, showing its razor-sharp fangs. The Calculatrix cackled, pulling herself from the floor.
“You cackle too much,” Invisalingua muttered. “Kinda annoying.”
“And now, Small Guy,” the villainess announced. “You shall meet your doom. Attack, Mr. Snuffles!”
Kicking upward, Tiny Man stunned Mr. Snuffles with his diminutive spurs and slipped free from the evil tabby’s grasp. Regaining his feet, he drew a thread-sized whip and a six-shooter the size of one of those guns they have in old games of Clue. Whatever happened to that game, Invisalingua wondered, then reminded herself to pay attention since they might die soon.
The Calculatrix cackled – again, sigh – and cheered on her stupid cat as it attacked. Tiny Man met it blow for blow, fighting for his life. For every scratch he took, he delivered a microscopic bullet or a hilariously cute crack of his little whip. It was at this moment that Invisalingua realized her enemy’s mistake. The Calculatrix had turned her back, focused all her attention on the adorable battle unfolding in front of them.
“Eek eek,” Invisalingua whispered. “Eek eek EEK eek eek. EEK. Eek eek.” Seconds later, a family of rats crawled from its nearby hole and swarmed around her, chewing silently at her bonds.
“SssszzzzzTTTnnnnzzzzsssssnnnn,” she whispered. Thousands of spiders sprang from every corner of the old, broken-down building and swarmed together on the ceiling directly above. In a delicate dance they crawled back and forth over each other, constructing what she had kindly asked them to build for her.
With her desperate plan nearing completion, Invisalingua lacked only one thing. Drawing in a deep breath, she yelled with all her might, “HERE, BOY! COME ON, OVER HERE! OKAY, FETCH THE STICK! FETCH IT!”
The cat-versus-man battle ceased as everyone turned to stare at her in confusion. Knowing she had just won, she grinned and came to her feet. As she straightened with pride and victory, her chains fell away and clattered to the floor. The ground underneath them began to rumble.
The Calculatrix’s eyes widened. “What did you do? Who did you summon?”
Invisalingua met her nemesis’ eyes with glee. “Man’s best friend.”
The front door suddenly bowed inward and splintered into a thousand wooden chunks. Through the opening poured dozens of dog-lovers with their faithful beasts leashed beside them. Hounds, retrievers, French poodles, German shepherds, every breed she ever knew charged toward Mr. Snuffles, their owners running with them and shouting a single battle cry. “Get the CAAAAAT!”
Hissing, Mr. Snuffles turned tail and abandoned his master, fleeing into the shadows and climbing up the crumbling walls to hide in the rafters far above. The dogs and their owners pursued, howling and yelling up at the diabolical feline.
“No!” The Calculatrix blubbered. “Snuffley, don’t leave me!”
Invisalingua pointed at the roof, calling, “Sztsztsztnnnnnnnnssssssst!”
The Calculatrix followed her finger, looking up just in time to see an ocean of spiders descend with a giant, human-sized cocoon in tow. She let loose one last scream before disappearing inside it. The silvery bonds wrapped around her, tightening and clinging to her as the spiders raced across its edges to seal up every means of escape. She struggled inside, straining against the steely bonds, but to no avail.
With a sigh of relief, Invisalingua called her gratitude to the rats, the spiders, and the dog lovers. Stepping up to the webbed prison, she scraped along the top edge to clear a spot just big enough for her enemy’s eyes. The Calculatrix glared venom at her, unable to unleash her deadly math skills.
“The police will be here soon, Calculatrix. I’m sure they’ll take you somewhere nice and quiet and math-free. Looks like your plan didn’t add up,” Invisalingua said with a satisfied chuckle. She glanced over at Tiny Man, who shook his head without even cracking a smile.
“Oh, come on, that was a good one,” she defended. Reaching down, she scooped her partner from the ground and deposited him on her shoulder. They strolled toward the open doorway and the daylight beyond. With a blink of her eyes, the air turned blue and sparkly.
Invisalingua and Tiny Man disappeared into the city in search of new crimes to thwart.