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A squelching, squeaking noise came from the couch. They all looked over just in time to see Chad erupt in laughter.“MONSIEUR OCTAVIO?” he sputtered. “THE ANNIHILATOR?”

Butterbean cocked her head. Bubbles were coming out of Chad as he laughed. She just wasn’t sure what part of Chad they were coming from. “Is that his… nose?”

“I don’t think octopuses have noses,” Walt whispered, watching in horror. She took a few steps back. Chad was waving his tentacles in the air as he laughed. No one was safe.

“Chad is laughing!” Oscar said, nudging Walt in the side. “Have you ever seen Chad laugh before?”

Walt shot him a dirty look. She shuddered.“Yes. Yes I have.” Although there weren’t bubbles the last time.

“Monsieur Octavio,” Chad sputtered. “As in LARRY? LOUSY LARRY? This is rich. Oh, Jerome is going to ink himself when he hears this.” He sat straight upright and clasped his tentacles in front of him. “You have to let me tell him. Please let me tell him.”

Oscar and Walt exchanged glances.

“Why?” Walt asked. “Is this going to make that big a difference to him?”

“He said he was happy in Mrs. Third Floor’s apartment,” Oscar added.

“He’s sick of the limelight,” Walt added. “Wouldn’t leave if we begged him to.”

“And we did,” Butterbean added. “Lots of times.”

“You want him to go?” Chad burbled. “You really want him to leave? Just tell him he’s going to be REPLACED. BY LARRY.” Then he laughed so hard he fell off the couch.

Oscar raised his eyebrows.“I think it’s time we pay a call on Jerome.”

When they snuck back to Mrs. Third Floor’s apartment late that night, they found Jerome eating whipped cream straight from the can. Butterbean shook her head sadly. She could never get away with something like that. Foamy mouths weren’t a good look for dogs.

“No, don’t even try!” Jerome said, sending little flecks of whipped cream flying as he talked. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve made up my mind. Ghost or no ghost, this is my apartment, and I’m staying put.”

“My apartment,” Wallace muttered, but nobody paid any attention.

“I’m gonna tell him,” Chad said, a malicious grin on his face. He rubbed two of his tentacles in front of him.

Jerome frowned and lowered the can.“Tell me what.”

He didn’t like the look in Chad’s eyes.

Oscar shot Chad a nervous look. He didn’t like it either. “There was a News report. The rats saw it.”

“So?” Jerome looked uneasy.

“So they’re going to REPLACE YOU!” Chad chortled. “WITH LARRY!”

The whipped cream can clattered to the floor. Jerome’s voice was like ice. “What?”

“Well, it’s not one hundred percent decided,” Wallace said. “They’re just talking about it.”

“WHAT?” Jerome’s voice was glacial.

“They don’t think they’re going to find you, see?” Polo said. “So they talked to a zoo in Europe, and they’re going to get that octopus instead.”

“Monsieur Octavio,” Marco chimed in.

“The Annihilator,” Polo added.

“LARRY?” Jerome roared. “LARRY THE ANNIHILATOR?”

“Monsieur Octavio the Annihilator,” Polo corrected.

“He’s very famous,” Marco said.

“That’s right, LOUSY LARRY.” Chad laughed uncontrollably. “FROM OUR EGG DAYS.” He nudged Oscar, Walt, and Butterbean simultaneously. “Larry is the worst.”

“So I gathered,” Oscar said.

There was an uncomfortable pause.

Finally, Jerome slumped.“Oh,” he said finally. “Larry.”

“Um, yeah,” Wallace said.

“So. What’s Larry up to these days?” Jerome twiddled his tentacles anxiously.

“Just taking your JOB,” Chad giggled.

“Keep in mind, it’s not official yet,” Oscar said, eyeing Jerome carefully. He didn’t like the way Jerome was just sitting there, like he could snap at any minute. Oscar didn’t want to be in range of those tentacles when he did. Standing next to Chad was bad enough.

“They’re still looking for you,” Walt said quietly. “They’re still hoping they’ll find you.”

“They don’t know you have your own apartment,” Butterbean said.

“My apartment,” Wallace said under his breath.

“Yes, well, they can keep looking.” Jerome swept a tentacle to indicate the apartment. “THIS is what’s important now. Not the fans, the adulation, the fame. None of that.” His voice sounded flat. “Now it’s just me in my apartment. Alone. With canned whipped cream.” He gave a weird hiccuppy sound.

Butterbean didn’t think that sounded all that bad, but then she wasn’t famous. She nudged one of Jerome’s tentacles with her nose. “You could go back if you want. We wouldn’t be offended.”

“Yeah!” Wallace squeaked. “And if you wanted to stay here sometimes, you could do that. We could share.”

Jerome stared at Wallace for a minute, like he was sizing him up. Then he sighed.“No, that won’t be possible.”

“Why not?” Wallace thought he was being more than fair.

“Yes, why not?” Oscar clicked his beak. “JEROME! Be realistic! You can’t live here—you know that.”

Jerome waved a tentacle at them.“I see the problems, I really do. And I wish I could help.”

Walt stood up.“The ghost men are coming tomorrow. We have to get rid of them, and trust me, we will. But the longer you stay here, the longer Mrs. Third Floor is going to think she has a ghost.”