"Where is everybody?" I.Q. asked.
He sniffed and pushed up his glasses. I.Q. always sniffs and pushes up his glasses. The poor guy is allergic to everything…especially being cool.
I looked around the playground. He was right. It was emptier than our refrigerator after my sister's boyfriend visits.
"What's going on?" Priscilla, another friend asked. Even though she's a girl, we let her hang around. (If we didn't she'd beat us up. She's pretty good at karate, karaoke, and all that self-defense stuff).
"Wait a minute." I pointed to the far end of the playground. "Everyone's over there!"
Off in the distance we saw about a million kids. They were kneeling down in the dirt and yelling.
"What are they up to?" Priscilla asked.
"Perhaps we should (sniff) join them and (sniff, sniff) find out," I.Q. said.
"Great idea," I said. (That's why we keep I.Q. around. He always has great ideas).
"Maybe they're playing marbles," I said.
"Or jacks," Priscilla offered.
"Or calculating the formula to Einstein's theory of relativity!" I.Q. said. (Okay, so sometimes his ideas aren't so great).
As we got closer, we saw that they were racing.
But they weren't racing each other.
Instead, they were down in the mud racing…
"Worms?!" Priscilla shouted. "They're racing worms?!"
She was right. If there were a million kids there, then there were a hundred million worms. Mounds of them…
slithering
slinking
and squirming…
all over each other. And all over the kids!
"What's happening?" I shouted as we arrived.
But no one answered. They were all too busy yelling and screaming:
"Let's go, Gooey!"
"Come on, Slimy!"
"You can do it, Slick!"
"Where did you obtain all of these (sniff) worms?" I.Q. shouted.
"From home!" a six grader yelled back.
"Our moms packed them in our lunches," a second grader explained.
Then, just when things couldn't get any weirder:

beep-beep-beep-beep

I.Q. and Priscilla turned to me.
Even over the shouting they could hear it.
But I pretended not to notice.

beep-beep-beep-beep

"Bernie?" Priscilla yelled.
I looked at her. "What?"
"Your underwear. It's…

beep-beep-beep-beep

…ringing again."
"I know!" I shouted. "It's been doing that all morning."
"Aren't you going to answer it?" she asked.
"If I do, I'll have to solve another case and save the world!" I said.
"But you're a secret agent. That's what secret agents do!"
She was only half right. That is what secret agents do. But I really wasn't a secret agent. The government got me mixed up with somebody else. Of course, I keep trying to tell them, but they won't listen. (The fact that I keep solving cases doesn't help).
I hoped that by ignoring their calls to my secret agent underpants…

beep-beep-beep-beep

…they'd leave me alone.
"Come on, Bernie," I.Q. said. "Don't you want to help people?"
"I'm always helping people," I complained.
"But helping them is a good thing."
I shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe if people get themselves into trouble they should be the ones to get themselves out."
I knew that sounded kinda selfish. But I also knew that's how I was feeling.
Little did I realize how soon those feelings would change…