Akiko and the Journey to Toog
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
“Poog’s in trouble.” Just three simple words, but they’re enough to launch fifth-grade Akiko and the rest of her crew—Spuckler Boach, Mr. Beeba, and Gax—on their next mission. And it just might be their most important mission yet: To save the planet Toog, home of their good friend Poog.
Someone’s out to destroy Toog, and only Akiko and the gang can stop them. But first they have to escape from a Toogolian jail cell, zoom through a barrage of exploding drobe mines, and enlist the help of Spuckler’s old friend Fluggly Ragstubble—who’s anything but helpful. The clock is ticking and every second counts. Will they win the race against time and save Poog’s home planet?
given up hope.” I watched Poog as he spoke. I could see that he was not going to give up. Not now, not ever. “SIR, WHERE EXACTLY ARE YOU TAKING US?” We were now out among the stars, and Toog was growing smaller and smaller behind us. “I DON'T SEE HOW WE'RE GOING TO SOLVE TOOG'S PROBLEMS BY LEAVING THE PLANET.” “We need somebody who knows more about core eaters than I do,” Spuckler said. “Somebody who knows all there is to know about drobe mines. And I know just who that somebody is.” I leaned
tooth-chattering tremor that I thought would rattle my eyeballs right out of their sockets. We all clung to one another and waited. And waited. And … … then … … gradually … … the noise started dying down. The thumps and flumps and fwams and flams began to be interrupted by brief intervals of silence. The ship stopped shaking. Before long I could count the seconds between hits. And after a minute or so … … the hits stopped altogether. Inside, everything was blue with smoke. Alarms
about. Poog had observed it on occasion but never imagined it would drive him to such lengths.” Mr. Beeba now turned to Zeem, regarding him with an expression of both pity and mystification. “He wanted to be bigger, stronger, to have capabilities that had always been denied him as a Toogolian. The tongue-leech was just the first part of the process. It gave him the sophisticated vocal cords that Toogolians lack. It also gave him deadly powers, powers beyond those of ordinary Toogolians.” I
He'd always had a knack for it, even when he was just a kindergartner. If the dark blue crayon in Crayola's big box went from being called cerulean one year to cornflower the next, Billy knew about it and had a preference. And it wasn't just kid stuff. If Billy got even half a second's glance under the hood of a Hummer H2, he could tell which parts were new, which were old, and which parts the shady repairman had used strictly to skim money off the bill. The lobster creature had reached the
Mr. Beeba cleared his throat, opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again, licked his lips, and opened it again. He said … … something. Toogolian is a very hard language to describe. It's gurgly. It's warbly. It's wiggly and bubbly. It slips, slides, bounces, and burps. It's nearly impossible to write it out in letters of the alphabet. It's fun to try, though. Mr. Beeba said something like this: “Oodily-abbily-eedle-a-dabbily-oodle.” Only he said it about five times fast,