The Slime That Would Not Die Page 2

“Hey, no pushing!” some kid barked. Then he elbowed me in the side.

  The closer I got to the entryway, the more dangerous it became. Another kid slammed into my shoulder and stepped on my high-tops. Then this short kid grabbed me by the jean jacket and growled like a grizzly. Kids were taking this so seriously! I had no clue other kids loved the Bs as much as I did.

  At last I got through the doors and into the children’s reading room. But where was the sign that read VIP?

  I saw at least one person I knew, another fifth-grader. Her name is Stella Min, but everyone calls her Ninja. She has long black hair that always droops in her face. I heard she has a brown belt in karate. That’s why everyone calls her Ninja. I think she saw me, too, but she quickly turned and sat down in a seat near the front of the room. It was right next to the VIP sign I was looking for!

  Aha! I pounced on a blue folding chair in the VIP row.

  I looked around at everyone else in the section. What made all these kids very important? I couldn’t figure it out.

  And then he jumped in front of my face.

  Damon Molloy is the boy in my class who, just last year, duct-taped a hockey puck to some kid’s stomach. One time he pounded me so hard in dodge ball that I got a bruise the size of a watermelon.

  “Yo, Ranger!” Damon said, smacking me on the arm.

  Damon acts scary, but he looks even scarier. His spiky blond hair always makes it seem like he just poked his finger into a supercharged socket. He wears these extra-friendly T-shirts, too. Tonight’s T-shirt said:STAND BACK. I MEAN IT.

  “Yo, Ranger, I saw you from across the room. What’s a dork like you doing in VIP?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that.

  “I’m on the list,” I blurted.

  “Yeah, well,” Damon snarled. “That must be a mistake. It’s not the Very Idiotic Person list.”

  “B-b-but . . .” I stammered. “I was here.”

  “Just move over,” Damon barked. “I need three seats for me and my VIP friends. You can sit behind us. It’s the same difference.”

  “No, I’m sitting here,” I asserted, trying hard to sound tough on the outside even though I felt more like Jell-O on the inside.

  “Sitting here with who?” Damon asked, picking his ear and flicking it at me. “Your imaginary friend club? Move!”

  What was I supposed to say to that?

  I started to stand up, ready to move, but then a girl appeared.

  “Jesse?”

  It was Lindsey Gomez. She’s in my homeroom. When Damon saw her he got this crooked grin on his face like he was about to kick us both to the curb.

  Thankfully, his two moronic friends yelled, “DAMON! OVER HERE!” and he ditched us to go and join them in the front row. All he wanted all along was a better VIP seat.

  What a relief, I thought. I turned to Lindsey.

  A sleek digital camera hung around her neck, and she had a rolled-up B-Monster Galaxy issue under one arm.

  “You read that?” I said, pointing to the magazine. Leery’s photograph was on the cover.

  “At least a hundred times!” Lindsey hugged the magazine. “I love Oswald Leery so much,” she said, grinning. “Do you think he’ll sign this for me?”

  “Sure, he might—”

  “My grandfather used to take photos for B-Monster Studios a long time ago. He took the photo on the cover of this magazine,” Lindsey said.

  “Wow, that’s—”

  “Aren’t you glad the library is doing this? I brought my camera to take some photos for the school paper. Did you know that this many people watched Bs?”

  I shook my head and stared at the floor.

  “What’s the matter?” Lindsey said. “B-Monster got your tongue?”

  The lights flickered.

  Ms. Shenanigans stood at full attention at a table at the front of the room. She had a microphone in hand. Her head bobbed as she tried to count us one by one. She tapped the microphone. “Can everybody hear me?”

  Damon and his two obnoxious friends yelled back. “WE HEAR YOU!”

  Up behind the podium, next to Ms. Shenanigans, was a large, flat object covered by a drop cloth.

  What was under there? Was it a prop from Leery’s collection? Maybe it was something cool from a brand-new B-Monster movie? That would be just about the best thing that could possibly happen! If I saw a sneak preview of some cool contraption or painted model from the B-Monster master’s new masterpiece, I would be the happiest kid in Riddle. No, I would be the happiest kid in the United States, in North America, on the Earth, and in the entire solar system.

  “Welcome, everyone, to tonight’s screening of Slimo!” Ms. Shenanigans spoke into the microphone. “Ready to see the movie?”

  Everyone cheered.

  “As you know, kids, we had a very, very special guest scheduled to be here with us tonight. He is a Riddle legend. His family has been here for generations, making movies . . .”

  I bit my lip. Wait. Go back.

  Did Ms. Shenanigans just say that she “had” a very special guest—as in past tense? I wasn’t sure I’d heard correctly.

  “Unfortunately,” Ms. Shenanigans said, “Mr. Leery had some urgent business matters to tend to. He could not make it here tonight . . .”

  The crowd sighed.

  “But,” Ms. Shenanigans held her hands up in the air. “I have another surprise.”

  Low, slow, creaking music droned out of speakers nearby. It sounded just like the music Oswald Leery always plays in the Bs, like just before some unsuspecting kid gets turned into monster soup. I didn’t know what we were in for, but I knew it had to be creepy—in a good way.

  The lights dimmed very low.

  I saw someone step out of the shadows behind Ms. Shenanigans. He was tall and skinny and wore a long cape. Or was it a coat? I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t see his face either.

  Slowly, the mysterious figure walked toward us with arms outstretched.

  My stomach did a flip-flop.

  Then the room went black.

  CHAPTER 3

  THERE’S NO ESCAPING FROM THE GOO, ESPECIALLY NOT FOR YOU

  I’ve never heard so much screaming in a library.

  About ten seconds passed before the lights went up again, brighter than ever.

  The cape on the man wasn’t a cape at all, but an old-fashioned jacket with tails. He wore a high-collared shirt and tie, too, with a shiny brass watch dangling from his pocket. The man’s patent-leather shoes reflected the library’s fluorescent lights so that it looked like he had lightbulbs on his feet. His black hair was slicked way back, which made the man’s very large forehead seem much, much larger than it really was. But the weirdest part was that the guy didn’t stop smiling! This made him very hard to look at without, well, smiling back.

  “May I present Mr. Walter Block,” Ms. Shenanigans announced. “Our special guest.”

  “Call me Walter,” Walter Block said.

  We clapped politely. He smiled a little wider.

  “Thank you, but I’m not the only special one here tonight,” Block said. He took the microphone, walked over to the shrouded object, and pulled off its cover.

  We gasped.

  Oswald Leery?

  Well, it wasn’t actually Oswald Leery. It was an oversize photographic cutout, like the ones in movie theaters. The cutout had gray-tufted hair on top, like a woodpecker’s head. And he wore a dark blue suit, turtleneck shirt, and trademark black glasses. You can never see his eyes in any photographs. Leery carried a large cane with a carved, silver, two-headed serpent for a handle. It was almost as cool as having the real Leery at the library.

  “I think my grandfather took that picture of him,” Lindsey said proudly.

  “Wow.” I was impressed.

  Walter went on. “Mr. Leery wanted all of you to view this very special copy of Slimo tonight, on loan from a very dear friend. This version includes rarely seen outtakes and never-seen-before scenes.”

  Everyone let out a lit
tle “ooooh,” including me and Lindsey. I’d seen the original Slimo five times before, but not in a special place like this.

  “The first Slimo feature was filmed back in 1955 right in downtown Riddle, not on a soundstage,” Walter went on. “You may recognize some familiar locations in the movie, like the local post office.”

  The lights inside the library dimmed. I clenched the tops of my knees with my hands and leaned forward. Sometimes waiting to be scared is the scariest thing of all.

  Presenting an Original B-Monster Movie Production!

  Filmed in B-Monster Vision!

  A bright green slime dribbled from the corners of the screen. It looked like it was going to drip off the edges! Soon the slime began to ooze and gush, making wet, squishy sounds, like when I walk through mud in my sneakers. Then the slime shaped itself into five letters and a gooey exclamation point.

  Slimo!

  I barely even blinked for the next hour and a half, right up until the part when Slimo gets as big as a school bus and grows teeth! It devours the last person in Riddle and slips into Riddle Lake. Just as the B-Monster is about to go underwater, it lets out a huge, loud bluuuuuurp! An enormous gas bubble appears on the surface of the lake and it gets bigger and bigger and bigger until kablam! It pops.

  I let out a crazy whoop.

  “Slimo! Slimo! Slimo!”

  “Calm down, calm down!” Ms. Shenanigans said, sounding exasperated. “Do any of you have questions for Mr. Block?”

  I raised my hand up as high as I could. Here was my big chance to ask the long-burning question I had asked in all forty-eight of my letters.

  Why did Oswald Leery hide up in his castle for seventeen years?

  But drat if Walter didn’t call on me. And he didn’t he call on Lindsey either.

  Kids rushed to a long table at the back of the room. Everyone pushed together to meet Walter face-to-face. He was passing out Slimo mini-posters.

  Of course I couldn’t squeeze in to talk to him. By now I’d lost track of Lindsey, too. And my watch said eight-thirty, which meant it was time to meet Dad.

  I had to go.

  Disappointed, I nudged my way through the throng away from Walter’s table and toward the library exit. Ms. Shenanigans saw me leaving and said she’d save me a poster. On the way out, the Slimo theme song played inside my head.

  Slimo’s coming to our town!

  Run before he slimes you down!

  Fearsome fangs and glowing eyes!

  Slimo takes you by surprise!

  There’s no escaping from the goo . . .

  Especially not for you!

  Even though I hadn’t gotten to meet Leery or ask my questions, it had still been a pretty decent night.

  “Jesse! Here!”

  Dad was waiting in the car across the street from the library, just like he said.

  He waved up to me. I took off, down the steps, running as fast as I could.

  Thunk.

  At the bottom step, I took an unplanned nosedive. My shoelaces were untied again.

  As I struggled to get up, a black stretch limousine screeched to a stop inches from my head. A tinted window rolled down.

  “My heavens! Are you okay?” a man asked.

  I blinked twice. It was Walter Block!

  “How did you get down here so fast?” I asked.

  “No trouble at all,” Walter replied.

  He held out a silver-blue sealed envelope. On the front was my full name written in loopy, fancy letters: Master Jesse Angus Ranger

  “For you, from the desk of Oswald Leery,” Walter said, shoving the envelope into my hands.

  Before I could respond, his window rolled back up and the limousine sped out of the parking lot.

  Dad came running over just then. He had seen my fall on the bottom step.

  “What happened?” Dad sounded concerned. “Jesse, are you okay? Let me look at you. Did you get hurt?”

  I didn’t know what to say. My side ached. My palm was scratched up. I was more confused than anything else.

  “How did Walter get out of here so fast?” I said again. I rubbed my head.

  “Who was that?” Dad asked. “What’s that in your hand?” He pointed to the letter.

  I held up the blue envelope. It shimmered in the moonlight.

  “Dad, I think I finally got my letter from Oswald Leery.”

  CHAPTER 4

  ONE BLUUURP BEYOND

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Jess?” Dad asked as he started up our car. “That looked like a bad fall.”

  I had a skinned knee, but that wasn’t the worst thing. What felt really bad was my stomach. It was twisted into knots with nerves. I had waited an entire year for the envelope in my lap.

  “Tear it open!” Dad said. “Let’s see what’s inside.”

  I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for. I ripped open the envelope and pulled out a handwritten letter. I held it out in front of me, mentally preparing for the secrets. All of the answers to my B-Monster questions were waiting for me on this piece of paper—I just knew it!

  “Well?” Dad said, turning to me as we pulled into our driveway. “Holy guacamole, Jesse! Would you please quit stalling? If you’re not going to read it, I will.”

  “Dad,” I said. “I just need a minute.”

  Dad parked the car and turned off the motor.

  Slowly, I began to read the blue paper aloud.

  “Wow!” Dad cheered. “A personal note and an invitation to the castle? That’s too much!”

  “Leery called me Mr. Ranger,” I said, giggling. “Your name, Dad!”

  My skin flushed all over. This was too much.

  We walked into the kitchen. Mom was sitting at the wooden table with her briefcase and cell phone. The Crabzilla DVD case was there, too.

  “So how was the library?” Mom asked.

  “They showed Slimo,” I said.

  Dad grinned at me. He’d already called Mom to fill her in on all the details.

  “What was it like to finally meet your favorite director, Oswald Leery?” Mom asked.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t meet him,” I said. “We met his assistant Walter Block. He gave me this.”

  I held the silver-blue envelope so Mom could read it.

  “Well,” Mom said, taking it and quickly giving it a look. I could tell when she got to the part about the castle tour. Her eyes got all buggy.

  “Well.” Mom sighed. “This is something else.”

  “Yeah, too bad I can’t go, right?” I said, hanging my head down and expecting the worst.

  Mom looked right into my eyes. “Aw, Jess, you don’t want to miss this, do you?”

  “I don’t?” My mouth curled into a grin. “No way, Mom.”

  “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime,” Mom said.

  Inside, I was screaming for joy, but I made Mom say yes, of course I could go, twice more—just to be sure. I threw my arms around her shoulders and squeezed.

  “Okay, enough hugs. Let’s get upstairs, champ,” Dad said. “We’ll celebrate tomorrow.”

  I raced to my room and flipped onto my bed. The constellations poster on my ceiling glowed softly, and there I was, under it, King of the B-Monster galaxy.

  I could go! I could go! I COULD GO!

  Wow, did I need to rest. But there was no sleeping now. It felt like I’d eaten four ice cream sundaes and had a thousand shock waves powered directly to my brain. And I was thirsty.

  I headed to the kitchen to get something to drink. Shadows covered the kitchen walls. I loved how the house looked at night, quiet and sleepy.

  If only I felt sleepy!

  I turned on the faucet for a cup of water. Nothing came out. I leaned in for a closer look. Sometimes things got kk ii hh ff II flfl ii dd hh bb disposal. I tried both faucet handles. I leaned down to check the pipes under the sink.

  Bluuurp.

  Without warning, the sink above me burped. It sounded and smelled like trapped air, or me after too many chili dogs. I stood r
ight .

  Bluurp.

  AA bb bb bbll dd dd hhe whole kitchen stank even worse now—like socks. I pinched my nose. What kind of burp was that?

  Another bubble came up from the sink. There was goo oozing out of the faucet and into the sink .

  “This can’t be real,” I told , blinking. “What is that nasty stuff?”

  I reached out to touch it but ee n jumped back. Bleech! I swiped a towel off the stove and rubbed my hands to get off the sticky. ss was no ordinary goop. This looked exactly like—

  SLIMO!

  CHAPTER 5

  THE GREAT FLOOD

  Bluuurp.

  I leaned close again.

  Peeeeuw!

  This really was Slimo.

  Before I could really do anything, like shut the drain guard, the gross goo sucked itself back down into the pipes under the sink.

  “Mom! Dad! Come quick!” I wailed. I clicked off the kitchen lights so I wouldn’t have to look at it. I could still hear this gurgling, rushing sound, and my feet and pajamas were starting to get wet. Eww! The goo must be overflowing onto the floor! I screamed again. “Mom! Dad!

  HELP!”

  The two of them rushed into the kitchen a few moments later, rubbing their eyes.

  “What’s the matter, Jesse?” Mom asked. “Are you okay?”

  Dad yawned. He looked like one of Oswald Leery’s Zoltan Zombies standing there. They’re the undead B-Monsters brought back to life by the evil Dr. Zoltan in Zattack of the Zombies. They are at the top of my list of best bad dudes ever.

  “This better be good,” Dad grunted.

  “Umm . . . something’s wrong with the sink,” I warned. I could still hear the dripping.

  Dad flicked on the kitchen light switch. Mom let out a shriek.

  “Oh!” she cried.

  Dad groaned. “Jesse!”

  The kitchen was a flood zone. Water ran down the counter and onto the floor like a waterfall! We stood in a large puddle that covered nearly half of the kitchen’s tiled surface.

  Water, water everywhere. But no slime anywhere. I knew I was in big trouble with my parents, but I didn’t care. I was just relieved to see water on the floor instead of slime.