Melanie The Escape Artist

Melanie "Mels" Balais is the Escape Artist. Sure, she's an idiot, but she's a genius. Armed with a ray gun, her pet octopus, and the spirit of a kitten, Mels has certainly got the perfect life of a criminal- or does she?


1. Prologue

"Oh, no!" I gasped at the letter on my front step. I burst out into tears.

It was the end of the world. I ran into my house screaming, "Omigosh! I'll have to get Trisha, and Marian, and Katherine, and Jackie, and Elaine, and Laura, and-no I can't I look terrible! Omg, what will I do?"

Thinking quickly, I picked up the phone. Trying to shield the phone from the black trails of mascara coming from my eyes, I dialed the numbers of all of my friends on all of my 60 of my phones, put them all on speaker, and started to spill the beans."Guys, I have to tell you something. Don't cry-they're discontinuing Jamesey lipstick!"

There was a ear-bursting sound of 60 different wails at the same time. It was so loud that I had to hang up all of my phones. I fanned my eyes. "Ugh, now I look terrible, feel terrible, AND my lipstick brand was discontinued!" I grabbed the letter and read it again, and the tears that were rolling down my face seemed to be going back into my eyes. I hadn't read the whole letter before. Here's what it said:

Melanie Hughack

335 Yeti Avenue

Gamma Mamma Blamma Space Station Model 2: The Perfect Community With No Pollution, and Half the Cost of Land on Earth 


Dear Consumer,

Much to our disappointment, we will have to discontinue Jamesey brand lipstick. Sorry for any inconvenience. 


Thank you for your time,


Jauycel Ragefire


P.S. Congrats! You won the Jamesey Lipstick sweepstakes

Please accept these 200,000,000 tubes of lipstick.


Now that I had read the letter twice, I had two questions: One, why did they call me a consumer? Did they expect me to EAT their lipstick? Two, where was the lipstick at?

I looked where the letter was again. It was on my grey front step and-wait, I didn't have a front step! I looked down, and, sure enough, plastered on the "step" was a label reading, "​Lipstick, handle carefully."

I opened my mouth, and kissed the box. I stared at the white stain for a second and thought that something was fishy, then figured that, even if I died, it was for a good cause-lipstick.

I opened the box and saw the best thing ever-200,000,000 tubes of lipstick, in all shades of colors, and all laid in perfect rows. I swear I could hear angels singing as I slowly picked up the tube of polar ice white lipstick and smushed it against my face. "I love you," I said, crying, "I love you."

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