Joe Comstock was not at all ready for this story, being your basic fifteen-year-old and all.
If you had told him that he'd be helping Otis, the totem bird butler, serve French press coffee to the Nahuatl corn goddess, he would have gone to his room and sent another hopeful text to his much-desired Rachel.
If you had insisted that the mystery of the origin of Fish Head Fever be solved even as he was being chased by a crazed Aztec deity, he would have shaken his head, hopped his skateboard and zoomed off to wrestling practice.
But life has its ways.
Your family dies.
Your sloop goes down.
The Coast Guard dudes that rescue you spread massive merm tails on deck.
And zombies and slimy Russian fish spirits must be dealt with.
You know…
It just happens.