The Amazing Adventures of Waldo

By Tashawn Blount

n his mind, he’s a superhero. In the real world, he might just destroy his high school...

Waldo would rather fantasize about defending Earth from aliens than face the drudgery of his junior year. But when the comic-book nerd falls for the most popular girl in his class, the only shot he’s got is to level the playing field...

Teaming up with two fellow outcasts, Waldo devises an unconventional plan to get the girl of his dreams: bring down every other cool kid that stands in his way. But as the truth about his classmates surfaces and his own fame grows, he fears his dangerous takedown is spinning out of control.

Is Waldo destined to be the hero of his fantasies, or will he blunder his way into accidental villainy? The Amazing Adventures of Waldo is a charming standalone YA novel. If you like clever heroes, fantasy meshing with reality, and plucky underdogs, then you’ll love Tashawn Blount’s heartwarming tale.

Buy The Amazing Adventures of Waldo to take on the cool kids today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tashawn Blount
• Release date: Feb 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463534953

Tashawn Blount

Tashawn Blount is a self-published author from Chicago, IL. He is currently studying to become a film major at SCC. Aside from balancing work, school, and life; Tashawn enjoys writing in the YA fiction genre. He started writing his sophomore year of high school where he drew inspiration from his own experiences to create his protagonist Waldo from his book "The Amazing Adventures of Waldo". After publication, Tashawn launched his very own campaign against bullying called "We Can All Be Extraordinary" in his community. Now, he continues to write YA literature while promoting more awareness to help stop bullying in schools.

Book preview

Chapter 1: My Name Is Waldo

"I know you may not know me, and it’s fine if you don’t. My name is Waldo. I don’t talk much to anyone at this school, but ever since I first saw you, I’ve felt like we were destined to meet. You’re funny and smart, and your smile alone makes the day brighter than any sunrise ever could. I just can’t get you out of my head. Even when I’m alone, I find myself always thinking about you. Wait—that came out wrong! That’s not what I meant to say! I meant to say that when you’re not around, images of your face come into my mind and make me happy. Umm… Okay, what I’m trying to say is: I think I’m in love with you, and no other guy will ever make you feel the way I can. If you just give me a chance, I will make you the happiest girl in the world. So, umm, will you go out with me, Clara?"

She stands motionless, staring back at me, while all of her friends look at each other in shock. What the hell am I doing? I wipe my sweaty palm on my blue jeans. Her only answer could either be yes or no. My dad said, What’s the worst she could say? No?

That was all the motivation I needed to talk to her. I inhale deeply through my nostrils, filling my lungs as much as I can to alleviate my thumping heart. Just give me an answer! Yes or no? Yes or no?

Fucking gross. Clara says, scrunching her face.

All of her friends burst into laughter, and so does she as I walk away in embarrassment. I guess no wasn’t the worst thing that she could’ve said.

This is my life.

My name is Waldo. I’m never noticed. I just don’t stand out in a crowd. Even if I’m waving, you still wouldn’t notice me. It’s like I am completely invisible. But I’m there. You just have to look harder.

There are some pros and cons of being invisible. One pro is that I can observe everyone in their natural habitat. I know all the gossip in school and see all sorts of crazy things. One con is that after watching other people’s lives for so long, it feels like I am watching TV, but all the drama starts to get repetitive like a rerun. I’m getting tired of watching this cast.

For as long as I can remember, I have been like this. No friends. No life. I’ve gotten accustomed to talking to myself rather than talking to others. It’s like I’m speaking to an audience in my head. I know what you’re thinking—it’s weird—but I guess it helps me get through each day to know that maybe someone is listening. You know?

I rush through the crowd of people standing in the hallway. People I bump into stare at me like they already know what just happened. I wouldn’t be surprised with the way word spreads around this school. I just want this day to end! I turn into the empty classroom where my next period is about to begin. I slam a handful of books on my desk and plop down into my seat.

Do you ever stare off into nothingness and daydream you are somewhere else? Anywhere else than where you are now? In a moment, reality around you is erased, and you teleport yourself into an entirely new world. I like to drift off into that world more than I like being in reality.

I stuff the pile of books into my backpack. One book still sits on my wooden desk as I scatter a bunch of pencils, pens, and markers on top of it. It is filled with blank white pages. I pick one of the pencils off my desk and begin to sketch the cover of the book. Every curve and point is perfected with each stroke of the pen. Rage, anxiety, and fear all come pouring out of me through the ink.

I place the marker to the side as I gaze at the cover art in front of me. It is a comic book drawing of me wearing a red and black costume as I look at a world on the brink of destruction. I’ve titled the comic book Waldo the Savior. This is the world I imagine when I stare off into that nothingness and daydream. When I daydream about this alternate world drawn on these pages, it is as if I am teleported into the book itself. My mind slips from reality, and I become the man on the page.

My name is Waldo. I am one of the last survivors of the human race since the machines took over. For more than ten years now, the human race has been overruled by machines. They have enslaved more than half of the remaining human population and forced them in contained domes to mine earth’s natural resources. The domes are climate-controlled to preserve the remaining natural resources and they stretch for miles over the land. The outside world around these domes is now reduced to wrecked cities, dried seas, and gloomy skies.

Without any vegetation or livestock, the remaining humans that have not been captured struggle to stay alive. We stay on the run and avoid being detected at all costs. If a machine discovers a human still on the run, the human has two options: surrender and be sent to work in the domes as a slave or be killed.

The machines are a self-built alien race made up of different metals and wires. These machines are different from the ones we built here on earth. They have consciousness and are predatory creatures. They are typically made up of a variety of weapons like razor blades that can shred through the flesh and bone in an instant. They come in many different shapes and sizes. The average form of a machine is three times bigger than a human’s size. They have monstrous faces that resemble those of some of the most vicious insects and animals that used to be found here on earth.

I am what they call an extraordinary. Extraordinaries are humans with supernatural abilities. We have auras of different colors that illuminate around us. Our auras are like lights that shine outside of our bodies. We have existed ever since the machines first touched down on our planet. No one has an explanation as to why or how we developed these abilities or what our purpose is; we just believe that it has something to do with the machine’s arrival on Earth. There are only a few humans like us left in the world since the war.

The cold snow falls gently around me as I take another step toward the tower. It’s always snowing here since the arrival of the machines. The dark black tower stands tall over the destroyed city. I don’t want to run anymore. I will end the reign of the machines here.

I hear glass break from behind, and out of thin air, bullets fly toward me. I tilt my head and body to evade the bullets. I turn my head to see one of the machines, a heavy machine gun attached to its tail, standing in the white snow.

The behemoth stands on four legs and has sharp spikes flowing down its back. The heavy gun attached to the machine suddenly begins to spin. More bullets spray the ground surrounding me. I run toward the machine with tremendous speed. I raise my fist and strike. I rapidly punch the monster. With every hit, I swing faster and faster. Pieces and parts of the machine hit the floor. I strike it with my final blow: an uppercut.

The machine flies into the air and spirals down with great force. BOOM! An explosion comes from the remains. I watch the flames and think of all the pain that the machines have inflicted on humanity. Humans have given up hope and accept just surviving. No one is willing to fight back.

I have decided to be the first and only human in ten years to finally make a stand. My mission is to end the machines’ reign over us by destroying this tower and every machine inside. These towers are strongholds filled with some of the strongest machines. I will step foot into the tower and make my presence known. I will save this dying world and everyone in it… all by myself.

I hear a deep voice call my name from the outside, but I am in my own world. It’s better and more interesting than real life.

Waldo… There it goes again.

Waldo! my history teacher yells.

What? I look up grudgingly from my comic book.

Are you even paying attention?

Yes, I mutter.

I put the marker down and stare at Mr. Azalea. Great. Thanks, Mr. Azalea. Now I can remember Clara along with all the other disappointments in my life. Urgh. I just want to go home.

Okay. Then what is the answer to the question on the board?

I look up at the question: What caused the fall of the Roman Empire? This is so simple, but I know that the class has to be stuck on the problem for Mr. Azalea to call on me. He always calls on me when no one else wants to answer. Someone has to know the answer, but I guess, once again, he or she is too scared to look like a nerd in front of everyone. This is what I must go through every day, and I’m beginning to grow tired of it.

There was no single cause. Rome had political, economic, and military problems that led to its downfall, I state with a sharp tone.

That’s correct, my teacher says.

I look around at the class. One girl is resting her head on her hand while texting; her phone is placed between the pages of a book. Another girl has her hood up, trying to conceal the headphones she has on. He could have called on anyone else in this class, but he calls on me. I’m having the worst day of my life, and all I want to do is daydream it away.

I’m tired of dealing with this same old routine. Nothing ever changes in my life. Confessing my love for Clara was the first bold thing I’ve ever done. I told her what I truly felt. The outcome wasn’t what I expected, but it was a change from my normal everyday life. So why end it there? Things can’t get any worse.

I stand up from my seat as Mr. Azalea turns away from me.

Look, next time you can’t find anyone to answer your question, don’t come to me and interrupt what I’m doing by saying that I’m not paying attention. Here’s a tip: Next time, answer the damn question yourself! If they can’t answer a simple question like this, it shows that you are failing in your career.

My teacher turns quickly thinning his lips tight and pushing his glasses up to his face.

Waldo! What has gotten into you today! Take yourself to the main office immediately!

A group of guys snicker indiscreetly in the corner of the class while everyone else stare at me. I grab my things and dash out the classroom. Like I said, I want to go home. I head straight for the door to exit the school. From behind me, I hear footsteps.

Waldo! Wait!

Someone is calling my name? I come to a stop and turn around to see who it is.

Your name’s Waldo, right? the girl asks, breathing slightly harder from the jog she made catching up with me.

The girl in front of me is peculiar. Her silky, curly hair is black and hangs to her shoulders. She has light purple highlights that blend in at the tip of each curl, but one side of her hair in the front is completely purple.

Yeah, it is.

I’m May. Nice to meet you, she says with a bright smile.

I stare at her, not making any response.

I think it was cool what you did back there. That class is boring when he talks on and on like that. She pauses as she looks at the ground. And no one in our class makes it better either.

I continue to stare in silence.

I snuck out after your outburst because everyone is laughing and talking about what you did. It was shocking coming from you. You never talk to anyone in class

I check the time on my watch, waiting for her to finish.

I was wondering if you wanted to hang out with me and my friend sometime after school?

I stare at the piercings on her eyebrow, nose, and lip. I imagine what it would be like to kiss her. Would I taste metal?

No, I state without hesitation. I mean, I’m probably just going to head home.

She smiles and nods her head. I get it. Maybe next time.

I turn and walk away from her as quickly as possible. No. I can’t leave this conversation like this. I need to say what’s on my mind and stop hiding my true feelings. I need to let it out like I did with Clara and Mr. Azalea.

I stop abruptly and turn back around to May. Look. Even if I wasn’t busy, I still wouldn’t want to hang out with you or your friend. I don’t even think wearing that much black to school should be legal, and I can’t imagine how you get through TSA with all that metal on your face. I get it; you’re mad at the world, and so am I, but is that the best way to express it?

It’s the only way I know how to.

Dressing up like a Halloween witch is the only way you know how to? I ask, furrowing my brow.

Yes, she smiles It’s better than bottling it all up until one day it explodes, and you end up hurting all the people who are just trying to be your friend,

I shift my eye to the ground slowly folding my arms.

May brushes her bangs over her ear. Most people express that they’re mad at the world through music, art, or by just being mad all the time. I don’t have any talents like drawing or singing, and I’d rather not walk around mad and upset at people who did nothing to me. This is the only organic thing I know how to do.

I guess I never thought about it like that, I respond.

It’s okay. Sometimes looking through the eyes of someone else gives you a clearer perspective of yourself.

Is that a quote or something?

No. Just something I came up with while talking to you.

Why do you want to be my friend?

It’s going to sound weird, but I could sense your aura.

What? I step back from her.

Come here. Let me show you something.

I hesitantly walk closer as she pulls her hair away to reveal the back of her neck. She shows me a tattoo of what looks like a purple flower. I read a lot of books about chakras and auras. I find it fascinating, and it gives me a lot of perspective on life.

So, what is it—your tattoo? I ask.

It is Sahasrara, or the seventh chakra, which is the crown chakra.

Sa-what-ra-ra? I ask, widening my eyes and mouth.

May bursts into laughter.

Sahasrara. It just has a meaning that I really connected to, so I got a tattoo of it.

What’s the meaning?

The best way to describe it in one word is transcendence, she says, smiling.

And this transcendence is what told you to be my friend?

No, she laughs, Auras are like a message that describes a person. Your aura is powerful. It tells me that you’re angry, but not why, that’s why I wanted to find out.

I’m not angry about anything. I just want to go home.

Well, I don’t want to keep you. It was nice meeting you, Waldo.

Yeah, right, nice meeting you, too, I say as we both turn and head in different directions.

I didn’t know that speaking my mind would turn out like this. I walk out the doors of the school and make my way home. This day is just full of surprises.

Chapter 2: The Comic Book Girl

I look in the empty driveway of my house as I come up the stairs. It’s been a long time since both of my parents have been gone at the same time. I walk through the front door with haste.

Jess! I shout as I enter. She must be busy watching one of her stupid shows on TV.

What? she yells back from upstairs.

Where’s Dad? I look up the stairway.

He went out with Mom to get her car fixed. She goes back into her room, slamming her door behind her.

Perfect! I grin as I run up the stairs. If you can’t already tell by the comic I am drawing, I absolutely love comic books! Action, mystery, sci-fi—you name it, and I’ll read it! The best comics aren’t the ones with all the flashy fight scenes and explosions; they are the ones with a story that keep you coming back for more!

It’s been a while since I’ve been able to get any new comic books. My dad does not approve of my obsession; he doesn’t understand. The last time we talked about it, it wasn’t much of a discussion. It was my freshman year of high school when he told me. He had called me into his office.

I stood in front of his door for about five minutes before I got the courage to knock. The truth is that my father scares the hell out of me. He believes that any time you waste with fun is a lost opportunity to make money. He never misses a day of work; I don’t even think he gets sick. My father reminds me sometimes of one of the machines in my story, emotionless and heartless, but my comics aren’t about him. I slowly raised my hand to knock on his door.

Come in, he said firmly from inside of the room.

At this point, I was terrified. I didn’t even knock, and he already knew I was standing outside! I’m telling you, the man is not human! I peeped my head through the crack of the door. My father sat in his big chair turned toward the window.

Close the door, he barked.

I slowly closed the door and walked to sit behind his desk. I’d never been in his workplace before. A line of awards sits upon the shelves to one side. Most of them are for bioengineering, and the rest he got from high school. It was a surprise to me that he was ever a child. I waited for my dad to turn around, but he didn’t.

Waldo. He paused. The school called.

He didn’t have to say much to scare the hell out of me. I waited for him to finish that sentence, but he just kept looking out that window.

You’re failing science.

I didn’t know if he was asking me or if he was stating it, so I just sat in silence and looked down.

Tell me, son, how are you failing chemistry?

The truth is that I hate science. I don’t care why or how stuff happens. I just like to know it works, but my dad wants me to be just like him: a science genius. I regret what I said at that moment, thinking back on it now. I looked at the back of his chair and declared boldly, Because I hate it. It serves no purpose to me or my life, so why should I care?

The room was silent. In my head, I thought he was going to turn around with a shotgun and shoot me. He finally turned his chair around; luckily, he didn’t have a shotgun. He stared me down.

So you think life is easy, Waldo? You think you can just breeze on through without a care in the world? Well, you’re wrong. It’s not like it is in your drawing books. There are no happy endings. You live, you work, and you die hoping that you raised your children right, so they can do the same. That is life. And I’m not going to let you ruin what little life you have by spending your time on those stupid pictures in a book. You will get your grade up in chemistry, and you will stop wasting your time on those drawings. That is not a career. Maybe chemistry will teach you that things don’t just happen for you. He turned his chair back toward the window. Now you can leave so I can get back to work. Close the door behind you.

I held my head down as I exited his office that day. However, he can never make me give up on my comic books. They are just too precious to me. They are the only things in this world that make me happy. So, after that day, anytime both of my parents are gone, I sneak to the store in town to get new comic books. I use the money I save for lunch and grab as many as I can. Ever since that day in the office, this has been the only way I can get any comic books. I run into my room, grab the money from on top of my dresser, and run back down the stairs.

I’ll be back soon! I shout to Jess as I reach the bottom of the staircase.

She opens her door and says from her room, Mom and Dad said they would be back around four.

Thanks, Jess. I’ll try to make it back before then.

I walk out the front door and close it behind me. Our small town is called South Hills. It is named that because of the massive hill right outside of the town. I’ve never been outside of this town, and I was too young to remember the times when we left it. South Hills is all that I know.

The comic book store that I usually go to is downtown. Our downtown is small. It is just a couple of streets with a variety of shops and restaurants on them. Out of all the small shops downtown, the only shop I care about is a store named Universal Collections. Universal Collections is on Wallace Street, which is the main street. It is a book/DVD store. It’s vintage like all the shops downtown, and it is my favorite place to go.

I walk up to the store, staring at the sign decorated with stars and planets on it. It reads, Universal Collections, and it has a record flying through space that replaces the O in Collections. I love looking at that sign before I go inside.

This store has every comic book ever made. On the right, you have the crime-fighting action section with Paint Man, Just Heroes, and Sync. A little farther back, you have sci-fi and mystery comics like Caldron’s Quest, Reynolds and Charter, and the beloved Divinity series. This store has them all! It’s the perfect place to get lost in your imagination.

I approach the cashier, who is slouched over the counter while she scrolls through her phone.

Welcome to Universal, she says, still staring at her phone.

Wow I feel so welcomed now. Thank you! I give a warm smile to the girl behind the counter.

She looks up from her phone. Hey, Waldo! she exclaims as she climbs over the counter to give me a hug.

Hey, Amy.

Amy is my favorite person to talk to because she knows everything about comic books. She has a good five years on me, so she outranks me on comic book knowledge. She has mid-length, black hair with pink highlights. It wouldn’t fit most girls, but it looks perfect on her. Her black eyeliner and tattoos make her look intimidating at first glance, but she is the most down-to-earth person in this town.

Man, have I been waiting to see you! Amy says as she climbs back over the counter.

Why?

I have so much stuff to show you.

The pink-haired girl pulls out a pile of books. I have been saving these for you.

I know, I know. I need to visit more, but my parents seem to never go out anymore, I say, rolling my eyes.

I’m telling you, Waldo, your parents were hipsters back in the day. I just know it. Especially your mom. I bet anything your mom was a baddie back in the day.

Ewww! Never put that image in my mind ever again, please, I say, covering my eyes with my hand.

You know your parents were your age once? I’m sure, in their minds, they are trying to do what’s best for you.

I lean against the counter and stare at her.

I’m pretty sure my dad has never been under the age of thirty in his life.

You’ll be surprised what you may find out about your parents.

They just don’t understand.

Don’t worry about it too much. One day, you’ll make them understand, but nothing is going to change until they are ready to accept it.

Is that what happened with you and your parents?

Sorta. Amy stops flipping through the books. I guess running off with my twenty-five-year-old boyfriend to tour the world at eighteen was enough to make them understand. She pauses. But that wasn’t the best way to make them understand.

You got to go to Japan, Montreal, and even London! How is that not the best way to make them understand?

"Because now I’m here working this shitty job just to pay my parents back for all the money