“Here’s your ‘shield’, wink wink,” I said to the biker guy as I handed him the shield in front of the brewpub.
“Nice work, twerps,” said the biker guy.
“Now how about our money?” I said.
“You know, I was thinking,” he said, “I could just give you money, or I could give you something really special.”
“Uh…like what?” I said.
He went over to something in the parking lot with a sheet over it.
“Presenting…the Twerpmobile!” he said, and lifted off the sheet to reveal a pink custom motorcycle with red polka dots. The bike had two side-seats so it could fit three people, and the license plate said “3 TWERPZ”.
“Check out the horn,” he said. He hit the horn, which made a TWERP-TWERP! sound. “Isn’t this baby amazing? And it’s all yours, courtesy of Mount Olympus Customs!”
“Uh…thanks?” I said.
Annabeth nudged me. “He means thanks so much, Ares! We are eternally grateful.”
“You’re welcome,” said the biker guy, glaring at me. “Nice doing business with you. Later, losers!” He got on his bike and rode off.
“Well, at least we now have transportation,” I said. “Now all we need is someone with a driver’s license.”
It turned out that Annabeth had a chariot-driver’s license so we let her drive. We weren’t sure if this was technically legal, but we figured if she got pulled over she was a hot girl so they’d only give her a warning.
We hit the highway in the Twerpmobile and drove for the rest of the day. Finally it got dark and we needed to find somewhere to rest.
“That place looks nice,” said Grover, pointing at a swanky high-rise hotel that was coming up on the highway.
“In case you forgot, we have a grand total of four dollars,” I said.
As we got closer to the hotel, we saw it had a flashing sign that said “KIDS STAY FREE!”
“Bingo!” said Grover.
“I think it probably means kids with parents,” said Annabeth.
But as we got even closer to the hotel, we saw it had another flashing sign that said “NO PARENTS REQUIRED!”
We parked the bike and walked in. It was the coolest place any of us had ever seen. The entire lobby was a ten story high video arcade and food court. They had every video game imaginable, endless big screen TVs and rows of computers with high speed internet, snack racks and fountain soda machines everywhere, and each floor had all the popular fast food places, from burgers to pizza to fried chicken to tacos to ice cream.
A man wearing a green uniform came up to us. “Welcome to the Lotus Hotel!” he said. “Here are your free room keys!”
“Sorry,” I said. “We won’t be staying here.”
“What?” said Annabeth.
“Blaaaaa?” said Grover.
“Look, it’s obvious they use the free rooms to get you in the door,” I said. “Then they charge you to use all the awesome extras, and soon your bill is thousands of dollars.”
The man in the uniform laughed. “Maybe some places do that,” he said, “but here all the extras are free. Just pay for everything with these.” He handed us each a green plastic card that said LotusCash. “So would you like me to show you to your rooms?”
“I think the rooms can wait,” I said. “Time to play!”
We hit the arcade. It was the most fun I’d ever had in my life: free pizza, then video games, then free candy, then more video games, then free soda refills, then more video games. Making myself obese was a blast! It sure was fun letting my mind and body waste away while participating in completely sedentary leisure activities whose significant negative health effects wouldn’t be felt until years later.
The hours flew by as we played and ate. But then I realized something was wrong. I began to notice that every other kid in the arcade had an insulin pump, that thing you use when you have diabetes.
I went up to one of the kids and tapped him on the arm. “Excuse me,” I said, “are you guys like a visiting group from a diabetes hospital?”
“Group?” he said. “I don’t know any of these other kids.”
I realized that the kids in the arcade had all gotten diabetes during their stay at the hotel. Which meant they’d been there for years. In a flash, it all made sense. I sat down at one of the computers and Googled “Lotus Hotel corporate info,” and there I saw it:
LOTUS HOTEL OWNER: Acme Insulin Pumps Corp.
The hotel was just a scheme to sell insulin pumps by giving kids diabetes. If we didn’t leave now, we’d be sitting here using Acme pumps forever.
I ran and found Grover, who was at the soda fountain drinking one giant soda while filling up another. I took his giant soda and dumped it on his head.
“Hey! What’d you do thaaaaat for?” he said.
“I needed you to snap out of it and see that we gotta leave now or we never will.”
He looked around like he was seeing the place for the first time. “Why’s everybody wearing insulin pumps?” he said.
“Exactly!” I said. “Let’s go!”
We pried Annabeth from her gaming chair, grabbed a case of insulin pumps for the road in case we needed them, and took off.
