Abner, the Invisible Dog Page #4

Sulfur.

I bet that's for making

stink bombs.

Wonder what this is.

"C-H-3-C-O-2-H."

Vinegar.

"Q-96."

"P-67."

Never heard of 'em.

What do you think?

We need some instructions.

Oh, here we go.

This isn't helping.

Half of it's in Chinese,

and half of it's in English.

It's all messed up.

I-I mean, I guess

it couldn't hurt.

Okay, Abner, not now.

It's hard enough

reading this

without you breathing

down my neck.

It says it's supposed

to taste like cotton candy.

Well, it's starting to smell

pretty good.

Not exactly

cotton candy, but...

All right, here, smell it.

Whoa! Abner!

You're just supposed

to sniff it.

What's going on in there?

Why don't I get to see?

Because I'm the brains,

and you're the bruin.

Ohh!

Chad, do you want

to cut your cake now?

Uh, that's okay, Mom.

Can I do it later?

I'm kind of busy.

Okay. Just don't blow us all

to smithereens.

Give me a break.

Mom, they wouldn't really

put anything dangerous

in a kid's

chemistry set, right?

Don't be too sure.

Oh. Don't forget.

We're driving your Aunt Ida back

to Fetal Acres in the morning.

Do I have to go?

Yes. We all have to go.

All right, Mom.

Boy, Abner, I sure hope

that was safe to drink.

I mean, it's got to be, right?

I wonder what it says

in the manual.

Can't even make

heads or tails of this.

I can make tails of it.

And you're right.

It is Chinese.

Egg rolls and all.

And this so-called English

translation is very amateurish.

Wait. What?

I would guess Taiwanese.

Yes, definitely Taiwanese.

Abner, you're talking!

Oh, you're quick, kid.

Real quick!

I'm impressed.

Ah!

What? What?

Will you get out of the way?

Aah!

There's no way

this could be happening.

You don't just whip up

a cotton candy formula

out of a dime store

chemistry set

and your dog starts talking.

Obviously. There's a lot more

to this than meets the eye.

Chad, I mean, you're not exactly

a rocket scientist, are you?

- I mean, no offense.

- None taken.

Wait a minute.

See, I hit my head today

when a bully pushed me.

You're not a talking dog.

You're just a whacked-out

hallucination.

Whacked-out? I think

I've just been insulted.

Abner, you are not

a talking dog.

Have it your way.

Mom! Dad!

What's wrong, son?

Poison gas.

I smell poison gas.

Ned, it's that chemistry set.

No! It's Abner.

I smell cotton candy

and vinegar.

My baby.

Are you all right?

Speak to me.

You're crushing me, Mom.

I'm fine.

It's Abner. He...

Oh, son.

It is not uncommon for a dog

to let loose a little gas

every now and then.

That, my friend,

is exactly why we do not

feed him people food

from the table.

That is wicked.

No, it's not gas.

I created this formula,

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