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try!”
    Mike nodded and began to hum the camp song. But there was another song, more horrible, more menacing than Sean had ever heard before.
    It screeched and buzzed and whined from the tiny speakers of the advancing army! It went—
    Singing Moto-Men!
    Inches tall, we’re ten!
    We have rocket arms
    And five unique alarms!
    Zzz! Vrrr! Eeee! Klang! Wooo!
    Dr. Gruker stood back and scanned the scene below. “Ha-ha! I vill conquer zee vorld! Starting here in Grover’s Mill! Starting viss you boys!”
    KLA-BAM! Another Moto rocket blasted near the boys, missed, and took the big fish head off the Baits Motel.
    Sean dived away from flying bits of cardboard and dashed down Main Street. He wondered if he’d ever see his full-size town again. Sure it was Weirdo’s Mill. But it was home.
    BLAM! Acme Hardware and Books blew into a thousand tiny pieces of plastic and paper.
    Perfect gifts to give!
    No birthday kid will live!
    â€œOh, man!” snorted Mike. “I sure hope their sense of smell is as bad as their words. That fish gunk on your shoes is making me sick!”
    It was pretty bad, but still Sean ran. Past Jabba’s Diet Center.
    â€œFirst I shrank a vater tower,” Dr. Gruker was saying, beaming as he pushed the big covered shape into the middle of the shop. “Zen a leetle vite house!”
    â€œMy house!” Mike snarled from Sean’s pocket.
    â€œAnd zen a garage!” Dr. Gruker said.
    â€œCan’t we shut him up?” Mike said in his tiny voice.
    â€œHe won’t stop,” huffed Sean, gasping under the awning of Picard’s Hair Salon.
    KLA-BLAM! Another Moto rocket blasted behind Sean. “His dumb robots won’t stop, either!”
    â€œZoon, I vill have zis silly town in zee palm of my hand!” Gruker boomed, suddenly whipping the dark cloth off the big thing.
    Before him stood a strange and complicated machine on a stand. It nearly reached the ceiling and was cluttered with levers and buttons. At the top was a long barrel with tubes and wires coiling up and down.
    â€œAch! My amazink shrinkink gun!” Dr. Gruker snarled. “Zee professional toy-maker model!”
    He positioned the big gun near the front of the shop. “I vill stomp zis leetle town!”
    â€œHey!” said Sean. “That’s my dad’s idea!”
    â€œAnd zen—zee entire vorld shall be mine!
    Suddenly, everything made sense to Sean.
    â€œMike,” he cried, “this guy is a total maniac! We have to stop him before he zaps somebody else!” Sean glanced toward the miniature Plan Nine Drive-in. “I’m going to try something. It’s pretty crazy. It’s mega wild.”
    â€œWhat if it doesn’t work?” cried Mike. “What if we can’t stop him?”
    â€œIt has to work! Besides, all the nutzoids in my dad’s horror movies get stopped.”
    â€œUnless there’s a sequel,” Mike squeaked.
    â€œYou would have to say that!” Sean grumbled. “Now come with me!”
    â€œWhere else would I go? I’m in your pocket.”
    Mike was in Sean’s pocket, all right. But just barely. He felt to Sean like a wisp with hardly any weight at all. Sean was getting smaller, too.
    We love to terminate!
    And yes, exterminate!
    â€œHurry!” yelped Mike. “It’s the Motor-Mouth-Men!”
    VRRRR — BLAM! A huge explosion plowed the corner of Elm Road, and Sean’s own cardboard house blew up in pieces!
    Sean darted over a nearby wall and into the parking lot of the Plan Nine Drive-in. “Sheesh! Zis guy vants us dead!”
    Mike peered up at huge Sean. “And zat’s not good!” He almost smiled.
    Sean raced over to the middle of the parking lot. A pile of big stuff was sitting there. A giant comb, a lipstick, a mirror, a purple puppy pad, a glitter pen. Everything that Holly had dumped from her purse. Sean grabbed the pencil and dragged it over near the