Henry Rider and the NuYu Prescription

By Adam Bolander

Henry Rider is back on the job—doctor’s orders!
It has been an abnormal two months in the Rider household, even by their normally abnormal standards. Henry may have saved the world from Legion, but the mystery of the Laughter Farms remains. Ethan struggles with the responsibility of being Jade’s new master (and, you know, the fact that genies exist!) And in the middle of it all, Henry receives some unexpected news: her big brother Conrad is coming home from college! But things aren’t all sunshine and meatballs. A string of corpses have begun appearing around town, and all signs point toward the culprit being someone very close to Henry. It’s a race against time for Henry to prove their innocence, and to do that she’ll need the help of a strange doctor and his magic pharmacy, New You.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adam Bolander
• Release date: Nov 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215036853

Adam Bolander

Adam Bolander grew up struggling with several learning disorders. All his life, he'd always had one dream: to be a well known author. Though it took him until his junior year of high school to actually begin writing, he has since then published three books, with several more on the way. All of Adam's books are appropriate for ages 12 and up. They contain no sexual content, no foul language, no drug use, and only mild violence.

Book preview

Chapter One

Sticky Mickey. The Rhombus. Pie Master Supreme of the Manure Nebula.

I paused to shovel a spoonful of Chocolate Frosted Cocobutts (with marshmallow turds) into my mouth. The crunch sounded like a fat guy in rubber boots walking through a swamp made of potato salad.

My name is Henry Rider, but you might know me better as the Maiam Hunter, the Blue Haired Butcher, the Clown Crusher, or, if you live in a small town somewhere in Iowa, the Bare-Butted Land Squid.

I…don't like to talk about that one.

Donkeyface McScuttlebutt the Sixteenth, I went on. Chicken Skittles. He Who Must Not Be Shaved. Larry.

Picking up my bowl, I drank everything that was left with a magnificently irritating SLURRRRRP, and then slammed it triumphantly back down on the table. Then, after letting out an award winning burp, I looked across the table to see what Ethan thought of the terrible nicknames I'd been suggesting.

But he wasn't even listening to me.

I dunno, he said, absentmindedly stirring his corn flakes with his spoon, I’ve just never been into sports. What about you?

I totally understand. Today’s sports are so boring, answered the violet-eyed girl sitting beside him. Her dark hair fell to cover her right eye, but the way her left eye rolled was unmistakable. "One of my old masters always went to the gladiator fights, and I would watch from inside my core. Now that was exciting!"

Ethan blinked. Gladiators? As in, from ancient Rome?

I told you, I’m older than I look, Jade said with a smirk. Would you believe me if I said I’ve ridden on the backs of dinosaurs?

I don’t… he paused. Have you really?

"Ex-CUSE me, I interrupted. I am trying to do something important here!"

Ethan turned to give me a blank look, as if he’d completely forgotten I was there. Huh? You are?

Beneath the table, I clenched my spoon hard enough to bend it in half.

Easy, easy, I thought to myself. This is good. This is what you wanted to happen.

That was true, but watching Ethan make googoo eyes at Jade still curdled my girdles. Yes, I had pushed Ethan and Jade to grow closer. Yes, I had hoped that they could help each other out of their shells. Yes, I should have been happy that that was exactly what had happened.

But that was before I'd fallen in love with Ethan myself.

Why can't you look at me that way? I thought glumly as Ethan went back to his conversation with Jade. Sure, Jade is beautiful, smart, funny, and a freaking genie, but what does she have that I don't?

You know, besides all the stuff I just listed?

I looked down at my empty bowl so that he wouldn't see my cheeks turn as blue as my hair.

So, Ethan, Jade spoke up a minute later, Have you thought about what your second wish is going to be?

I perked up a little at that, and tuned back into their conversation again. It had been two months since he'd become Jade's master and used his first wish to keep me…well, Legion wearing my body…from murdering the Council of Shnoob.

He nervously cleared his throat. I, uh…no, I haven't. Am I on, like, a time limit or something?

Jade shook her head. No, nothing like that. I've just never had a master go so long without making a wish.

Don't call me that! Ethan snapped, and then cringed. Sorry. But you know I hate it when you call me your master. It sounds like I own you or something. So please, stop.

Is that a wish? she asked with a smirk.

No, it's a threat. Ethan grinned back at her. Because if you don't, I'll flush your necklace down the toilet.

Jade laughed. You wouldn't dare!

And just like that, I’d been forgotten again.

There's still one thing you can do to get his attention, the voice in my head whispered.

Hmm…

Trying to act natural, I leaned forward in my seat and focused all of my attention on Ethan. Then, I…did something I’m really bad at explaining. You know how you can make your vision blurry just by flexing a certain muscle in your eyeballs? It's kind of like that, except that instead of turning everything fuzzy, I see inside whoever I'm looking at—specifically, into their sense of humor.

Images started to appear around him. Most of them were fuzzy, like I was watching a tv that could only pick up half a signal, but every once in a while they would solidify into something I could make out. There was Backfire, the superhero he sometimes drew comics about. I saw my friend Aesop being kicked by a horse. And, for a split second, I thought I saw me in there, doing a…

Actually, you know what? Let’s forget that one.

What I didn’t get was anything I could use to make him laugh. Maybe I just didn’t know how to use my new power yet. Maybe the trauma of seeing his parents die had messed up his sense of humor too much. Or maybe Ethan’s laughter hadn’t healed me as much as I’d thought, and I was overclocking my poor brain like a cheap laptop with a billion internet tabs open. Whatever it was, seeing bits and pieces of things he thought were funny wasn’t enough. I still had to figure out how to turn those things into a joke, like how a blacksmith takes a bunch of little rocks and hammers them into a sword. At least, I think that’s how it works. I haven’t really done much research into blacksmithing, if you can believe it.

Luckily, I was saved from actually having to think when the doorbell rang. My head immediately swiveled to look into the living room, my heart skipping a beat, and I saw an envelope get pushed through the mail slot—the mail slot that only existed on the inside of our door. It fell to the floor, and Ethan and I shared a look.

Yeah, now he remembers I’m here, I thought.

Henry, my mom called from down the hall, is someone at the door?

I swallowed. No, Mom, it’s just an assignment.

I went and got the letter, opening it as I made my way to the kitchen. McGus, the council’s old Maiam Hunter, had gotten clobbered two months ago (by me) and taken out of commission. He was alive, thank the whoopie cushion in the sky, but even his doctors didn’t know if he would ever be able to walk again, much less fight. He had named me Acting Hunter—and a few other less nice things—in his absence and I’d come home that night to find his mail slot on my door.

What’ve we got? Ethan asked.

I wadded up the letter and threw it, scoring a hit on Ethan’s forehead. Same as always: trouble. Let’s go.

You haven’t lost the Cube, have you?

I frowned. Of course I haven’t! I keep it in the safest place in the whole house!

And where’s that? Ethan asked skeptically.

In my… I paused, then scowled at him. If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, would it?

It's in your underwear drawer, isn't it?

My mouth snapped shut and I glowered at him before turning and racing upstairs to my room.

It's in your underwear drawer, I mimicked him as I opened my, um, high tech security safe that's disguised to look like a common underwear drawer. The fact that I also keep my underwear in there helps further the illusion.

With the Escher Cube in my pocket, my Nasally Operated Semblance Emitter on my face, and my trusty warhammer/ping pong paddle Splatsy hanging from my belt, I stepped back into the hallway just in time to see Ethan emerge from his own room, armed with his crystal spellhammer. Jade was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs.

Ready to maim some maiams? I asked.

He smirked. Always.

We went downstairs, and I held the Escher Cube in both hands, ready to—

Henry? my mom called again.

Footsteps. She was coming this way! I looked at Jade, but before I could say anything, she dematerialized into a beam of bright green energy and whooshed into the gem that hung around Ethan's neck. And not a moment too soon, either.

Henry, Mom said again, appearing in the living room door. Her skin was as pasty white as mine, but her vibrant purple hair was as different from my blue as anything could be. When you're done, could you run to the pharmacy?

My eyes widened a little. By pharmacy, do you mean…

"Yes, the pharmacy. Con just called to say he's coming home for a visit. He should be here sometime tonight."

Con? Ethan echoed. As in, your brother?

Adopted brother, technically, I said. But technicalities are for nerds.

The brother whose room I've been sleeping in for half a year now?

That's the one!

Unease flickered on Ethan's face. The brother whose room is filled with skulls, bats, and scary movie posters?

I'll swing past New You on the way back, Mom, I said. We’ve gotta go now, though.

Henry, what's New You? Ethan asked.

Fart at ya later!

Don't ignore me! What—

I twisted the Escher Cube, and we vanished in a flash of light.

Chapter Two

—is New You? Ethan demanded as we flashed back into existence again.

He blinked in surprise, the fact that we were no longer in my living room slapping him like a cold fish. Now we stood in the alleyway between two buildings, alone except for an exceptionally foul smelling dumpster. I think one of those buildings was a sushi shop.

Warn me before you do that, Ethan griped as I led the way toward the street.

I ignored him and pointed at the building across the street from us. There. That's where it's hiding.

Ethan looked, then squinted his eyes. Bartholomew Pumpernickel's School of Belly Dancing for Fun and Profit?

What? I spun around and saw a run down, one story building with large dusty windows. Through them, I could faintly see an overweight middle aged man, shirtless, wiggling around the studio like a…no, screw it. Some metaphors just shouldn’t be made.

No, you dingus! I snapped, grabbing his head and turning it one building to the right. "That is where we're going!"

Joe's Laughing Barrel, the old neon sign above the door said, alongside the lit up image of someone's feet sticking out of a barrel. The lights alternated, making the feet kick back and forth while the word ha flickered on and off. The building was just as old as Bartholomew Pumpernickel's Temple of Horrible Horribleness, but judging by the amount of cars parked outside it must have been a way more popular place.

Is that, Ethan said slowly, a comedy club?

I nodded. Exactly the kind of place a maiam could cause the most trouble.

Well, come on! Let's go!

He grabbed my arm and started pulling me across the street. I raised an eyebrow, but didn't complain. I could remember a time, just a couple months ago, when he would have asked to wait outside while I killed the maiam. As long as it wasn't after him, he couldn't have cared less. The fact that he was the one charging headlong into danger was enough to make my heart swell with pride.

I had done that. I had been the one to teach Ethan to give a half-eaten cheeseburger about other people. Finally, for maybe the first time in my life, I had done something good.

The fact that Ethan being assertive was hot didn't hurt either.

I ran my eyes over the building as we made our way closer. Ethan couldn’t see it, but this place was practically bursting at the seams with laughter. It was all inside, but the sheer amount of it made the entire club shimmer like the bricks were made out of stained glass. The smell was like all your favorite foods mixed together into a smoothie…actually, that sounds gross. It's nothing like that.

Okay, here's a quick refresher if you weren't paying attention in the first book (or even worse, if you skipped it entirely, you bad, bad person). Klaons like me feed on human laughter. It appears to us like a glowing rainbow cloud, and we have to breathe it in to keep from starving. But you see, that laughter has to be given freely. If a klaon steals it—like, if they vampirize it right out of some poor sap's mouth—the human will die, the laughter will be tainted, and the klaon will turn into a maiam. A monster that lives only to gorge itself on as much laughter as it can, killing everyone it feeds off of.

That's where I come in. As the Acting Hunter for the Council of Shnoob, it's my job to hunt down the maiams before they can cause any trouble.

Hunt them down…and kill them.

Ethan grunted. That's not good.

What? I asked, looking around him. Oh. Yeah, that might be a problem.

There was a man standing outside the club's front door, arms folded so that his impressive biceps bulged through his sleeves. A pair of sunglasses kept me from seeing his eyes, but it was obvious he was looking in our direction—and judging by his frown, he wasn't happy to see us.

How are we going to get in? Ethan whispered, stopping about ten feet away. This place is twenty one and up. He'll never let us through the door!

Oh, Ethan, Ethan, Ethan, I said, giving him a pat on the head, which he slapped away. When are you going to stop underestimating me?

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet. From it, I produced two plastic cards, and handed one of them to Ethan.

There, see? I said. Fake IDs! We'll just show them to the bouncer and waltz right in!

Ethan glanced at his ID and then looked at me in disbelief. This says my name is Lumpy Buttsniffer, and I was born in 1943!

I put a hand to my mouth so he wouldn't see me laughing. Lumpy Buttsniffer. That was a good one.

Dare I ask what name you gave yourself? he asked.

I held mine up. Simone Garfunkel!

Of course.

Holding my fake ID out in front of me like a weapon, I led us toward the door. Ethan muttered something about us getting sent to jail, but ignored him. I knew what I was doing. As the Hunter, I was a master in the arts of stealth and espionage.

Hold up, the bouncer said as soon as we came near. How old are you two?

The bouncer was six and a half feet tall, and his shaved head was shiny enough to reflect a beam of sunlight into my eye. He smelled like sweat, cigarettes, and underwear that hadn't been changed in at least three days.

Here you are, my good sir! I said, sliding smoothly into my most mature sounding British accent. He took my ID, and then Ethan's. I do say, what lovely taxes we've been having, eh, old sport?

Uh…I guess, the bouncer said and raised the IDs up for a closer look.

Henry! Ethan whispered while he was distracted. Let's get out of here before he calls the police! We can find another way—

Looks like everything is in order, said the bouncer. Welcome to the Laughing Barrel, Mr. Buttsniffer. And Miss Garfunkel, happy one hundred thirteenth birthday.

Ethan's mouth fell open as the door swung open for us, so I grabbed his arm and dragged him inside.

How the hell did that work? he demanded as soon as we were out of earshot of the door.

I just smiled.

I’ve got a story for you folks, a loud voice came from the front of the room. I looked up just as a man walked onto the stage, microphone in hand. How many of you work in customer service?

A few hands went up, along with a couple good natured boos.

So, I used to work at Willymart, he went on. "Great place! Everyone should work there at least once in their lives. You get to meet so many interesting people, and then imagine all the different ways you wish they would just freaking die!"

Apparently, that struck a nerve, because the audience burst into laughter. A shimmering, multicolored cloud rose above their heads, growing bigger and bigger by the second. My eyes widened at the sight and, before Ethan could stop me, I stepped forward and sucked down a big, delicious breath of it. Energy surged through me like I'd stuck a pair of jumper cables up my nostrils.

Ahhh! I breathed out happily.

I think you're enjoying this a little too much, Ethan remarked. I elbowed him in the ribs, and he grunted in pain. Jeez, okay! The joke wasn't even that funny!

That's the awesome thing about laughter, I argued. Different things draw it out for different people. You may not have thought his joke was funny, but those people did, and neither of you are wrong.

The man on stage was on a roll. So, one day I’m stocking shelves, and a lady walks up and asks for my help getting something down from the top shelf. But then, before she even tells me what she wants, she says never mind, she’ll find someone else to do it. I ask her if something’s wrong, and she says that she doesn’t trust me. I ask why, and she says I just—and these are her exact words—look like I put my hands down my underwear when nobody’s looking. Now, I tell her that I haven’t had my hands down my underwear, and…

The audience was roaring with laughter, and by this point I was laughing with them. Ethan, on the other hand, just rolled his eyes.

Aren't we here to do something? he asked.

I frowned. The maiam. Right. Taking the lead, I ventured further into the club, winding between the tables where the other customers sat and sipped glasses of spicy toilet water. Up on stage, the comedian kept doing his routine, making the glowing cloud of laughter grow bigger by the minute. Where could a maiam hide in a place like this? With so many people around, surely one of them had to have seen it crawling around. Had I misread the letter? Maybe it wasn't—

I froze. A thin trail of laughter had branched off from the bigger cloud. It wound lazily through the air before drifting out of sight, right beneath…

Oh, turkey milkshakes.

Ethan, I whispered urgently. It's hiding under the stage!

How do we get it out?

How should I know?

You're the Hunter! This is supposed to be what you do!

Shh! hissed a person next to us.

I ran my hand over Splatsy's paddle. If there were nobody here, I could whip her out and smash the stage to pieces. But if I did that now, people would stare at me, ask awkward questions like Why are you smashing our stage?, and then I'd probably go to jail—and the maiam would still kill everyone here. But how was I supposed to clear out a building full of people?

Your burger and fries, sir, a waiter said, squeezing past us to set a plate down in front of Shushy Sheldon. The smell was enough to make my stomach growl, even though I'd just eaten. Greasy, oily, delicious, and…

I had an idea!

Stay here! I told Ethan, and then took off across the club. On the other end, I could see a pair of swinging doors that waiters were going in and out of carrying plates of food. But the food wasn't what I was after, for once.

I burst through the doors and into the kitchen. A skittish cook screamed and whipped his frying pan at me, hurling a half-cooked country fried steak at me. I leaned out of the way, letting it careen past me and into the face of an unfortunate waiter, and spotted what I was looking for.

A big, sizzling pot of cooking oil.

What the hell are you doing back here? someone yelled, telling me I hadn't saved myself entirely from the awkward questions. Instead of answering, I grabbed the pot and shoved it.

FWOOOOOOSH!

A huge ball of fire erupted from the stove, mushrooming outwards when it reached the ceiling. The wave of heat made me feel like I was being sneezed on by a dragon. The flames caught, spreading from the stove to the floor, making the kitchen staff squeal like little girls and run for the exit. I followed right behind them, pulling down on