Informationen zum Autor Dale E. Basye; illustrated by Bob Dob Klappentext Dale E. Basye's most over-the-top (the Big Top! that is) adventure yet is now available in paperback. When Marlo Fauster claims she has switched souls with her brother! she gets sent straight to Fibble! the circle of Heck reserved for liars. But it's true-Milton and Marlo have switched places! and Marlo finds herself trapped in Milton's gross! gangly body. She also finds herself trapped in Fibble! a three-ring media circus run by none other than P. T. Barnum! an insane ringmaster with grandiose plans and giant! flaming pants. Meanwhile Milton! as Marlo! is working at the devil's new television network! T.H.E.E.N.D. But there's something strange about these new shows. Why do they all air at the same time? And are they really broadcasting to the Surface? Soon Milton and Marlo realize that they need each other to sort through the lies and possibly prevent the end of the world-if Bea "Elsa" Bubb doesn't catch them first. 1 What Lies Ahead? Being a boy feels really weird, Marlo thought as she dangled her brother's gross feet off the backseat of the stagecoach taking her to Fibble, the circle of Heck for kids who lie. Her borrowed body felt alternately simpler and more complicatedfrustrating in its sheer, dull straightforwardness. Just like boys, she reflected. Marlo tried her best not to overanalyze the skin she ached to jump out of: just thinking about being her younger brother, Miltonat least on the outsidemade her skin crawl. Or his. Whatever. Marlo was still fuzzy on the particulars of her current situation, but flashes of what had happened, and who she truly was, floated to the top of her brain like the cryptic messages of a Magic 8 Ball. She remembered graduating from Madame Pompadour's Infernship program and becoming Satan's Girl Friday the Thirteenth. Then she remembered Miltonthough for some reason, at the time, she'd had no idea that the little twerp hopping around in his Stargate Atlantis underwear was her brotherstorming the Surly Gates of h-e-double-hockey-sticks with Annubis, the dog god, and dragging her from her Deceptionist post to the Break Down Room with Principal Bubb and her demon guards in hot pursuit, before drugging her with a moldy cheese sandwich. It was here that things got a little strange. When Marlo had come to, she hadn't felt quite . . . herself. Annubis had once presided over Heck's Assessment Chamber, where souls were weighed on the Scales of Justice, so he had the power to pluck people's spiritual essence from their bodies with his bare paws. He must have switched Milton's soul with mine, Marlo presumed. To what end, Marlo could not be sure. But as she dredged the sludgy slough of her mindstill yawning and stretching from its peculiar napMarlo knew that her little brother was essentially a good kid, so whatever Milton's specific intent, his heart was sure to be in the right place (even if his soul wasn't). Marlo also knew that Milton had an ulcer, not because of any prior knowledge as his sister, but because of the waves of pain radiating from the pit of Milton's stomach. The man sitting across from her in the musty stagecoach coughed. He leered at her with a freaky smirk: a knowing grin that was totally one-sided. How long are we going to play this little game? the old, dough-faced man said as he ran his fingers through his slicked-back hair. Marlo swallowed down the bile that kept creeping up her throat. I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, she replied in her brother's squeaky voice. And I'm not afraid of anything. The man laughed mirthlessly. You could have fooled me, he said, training his beady black eyes on Marlo. You seemed plenty afraid back in Limbo. Her stomach suddenly felt as if it housed an unchaperoned, all-ages dance club. He must have been some teacher in Limbo, Marlo s...

Autorentext

Dale E. Basye; illustrated by Bob Dob

Klappentext

Dale E. Basye's most over-the-top (the Big Top, that is) adventure yet is now available in paperback. When Marlo Fauster claims she has switched souls with her brother, she gets sent straight to Fibble, the circle of Heck reserved for liars. But it's true-Milton and Marlo have switched places, and Marlo finds herself trapped in Milton's gross, gangly body. She also finds herself trapped in Fibble, a three-ring media circus run by none other than P. T. Barnum, an insane ringmaster with grandiose plans and giant, flaming pants. Meanwhile Milton, as Marlo, is working at the devil's new television network, T.H.E.E.N.D. But there's something strange about these new shows. Why do they all air at the same time? And are they really broadcasting to the Surface? Soon Milton and Marlo realize that they need each other to sort through the lies and possibly prevent the end of the world-if Bea "Elsa" Bubb doesn't catch them first.

Leseprobe
1

What Lies Ahead?

Being a boy feels really weird, Marlo thought as she dangled her brother’s gross feet off the backseat of the stagecoach taking her to Fibble, the circle of Heck for kids who lie. Her borrowed body felt alternately simpler and more complicated—frustrating in its sheer, dull straightforwardness. Just like boys, she reflected. Marlo tried her best not to overanalyze the skin she ached to jump out of: just thinking about being her younger brother, Milton—at least on the outside—made her skin crawl. Or his. Whatever.

Marlo was still fuzzy on the particulars of her current situation, but flashes of what had happened, and who she truly was, floated to the top of her brain like the cryptic messages of a Magic 8 Ball. She remembered graduating from Madame Pompadour’s Infernship program and becoming Satan’s Girl Friday the Thirteenth. Then she remembered Milton—though for some reason, at the time, she’d had no idea that the little twerp hopping around in his Stargate Atlantis underwear was her brother—storming the Surly Gates of h-e-double-hockey-sticks with Annubis, the dog god, and dragging her from her Deceptionist post to the Break Down Room with Principal Bubb and her demon guards in hot pursuit, before drugging her with a moldy cheese sandwich.

It was here that things got a little strange.

When Marlo had come to, she hadn’t felt quite . . . herself. Annubis had once presided over Heck’s Assessment Chamber, where souls were weighed on the Scales of Justice, so he had the power to pluck people’s spiritual essence from their bodies with his bare paws. He must have switched Milton’s soul with mine, Marlo presumed. To what end, Marlo could not be sure. But as she dredged the sludgy slough of her mind—still yawning and stretching from its peculiar nap—Marlo knew that her little brother was essentially a good kid, so whatever Milton’s specific intent, his heart was sure to be in the right place (even if his soul wasn’t). Marlo also knew that Milton had an ulcer, not because of any prior knowledge as his sister, but because of the waves of pain radiating from the pit of Milton’s stomach.

The man sitting across from her in the musty stagecoach coughed. He leered at her with a freaky smirk: a knowing grin that was totally one-sided.

“How long are we going to play this little game?” the old, dough-faced man said as he ran his fingers through his slicked-back hair. Marlo swallowed down the bile that kept creeping up her throat.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” she replied in her brother’s squeaky voice. “And I’m not afraid of anything.”

The man laughed mirthlessly.

“You could have fooled me,” he said, training his beady black eyes on Marlo. “You seemed plenty afraid back in Limbo.”

Her stomach suddenly felt as if it housed an unchaperoned, all-ages dance club. He must hav…