Fartsunami Page 2

  I looked through the bathroom window and saw the moon. Suddenly everything clicked.

  “Of course,” I yelled. “The hair is freaking out because of the moon. This must be a silver bag. It blocks moon rays!”

  “Thanks for the mad-science lesson,” Shane said as he tried to position the bag under the struggling hairwad.

  As I pushed the hair down toward the bag, it started whimpering like a puppy.

  “Don’t listen to it!” yelled Shane.

  I forced the quivering, growling hair in the bag. It began to shake violently and…

  SILENCE.

  Shane quickly tied up the bag and glanced over to the sink. It was empty.

  “The hair must have unclogged itself,” Shane said.

  “It’s about time the monsters cleaned up after themselves,” I snickered.

  “Speaking of cleaning up,” Shane said, “I’m desperate for a shower.”

  We headed out of Raven Hill, and the smell of wet werewolf, and worse, followed us all the way home.

  We Gotta Get Outta This Place

  “Can you believe Director Z made us clean the werewolf bathroom?” I groaned as I poked at the Mac ’n’ Sneeze on my plate.

  “You’re forgetting to speak in code,” said Ben, peering nervously around the cafeteria.

  “Oh right,” I said, lowering my voice a little. “Can you believe the guy who runs the place at the top of the hill made us clean the place where the hairy dog men go potty?”

  “Yes,” said Gordon, “I can believe it. That’s why I left.”

  “How was practice?” Shane asked Gordon.

  “Just like the Mac ’n’ Sneeze today,” said Gordon. “TERRIBLE.”

  “Yeah, it does taste a little funky,” agreed Shane. “Almost fishy.”

  Gordon stretched his neck and his bones cracked.

  “I just couldn’t loosen up,” he continued. “I felt like a zombie.”

  “Billy and the other zombies might disagree,” Ben said, “but I totally know what you mean.”

  “Dude, the code,” I mocked Ben.

  “Arrggh,” Ben said, “You’re right. Random zombies might disagree.”

  “Maybe we should just stop saying the word ‘zombie.’” said Shane. “Oh, wait. I said it again.”

  “Where were you this morning?” I asked Shane. “I texted you twenty times! You were supposed to help me figure out our itinerary for Kennedy Space Center. We have to make sure we can see everything. There’s a lot of stuff to do, and we’re only there for a week, and we already have one whole day filled with astronaut training, and—”

  “Yawn,” said Gordon, which made Ben yawn. “Boooooring.”

  “Yawn!?” I screeched. “Guys, this is the closest we’ll ever get to space! Aren’t you excited?”

  “Actually,” said Gordon, “this is the closest we’ll get to Cocoa Beach—home of Ron Jon Surf Shop. Do you think Mr. Stewart will take us?”

  “Since when are you a surfer?” I asked.

  “I keep up on all sports, even the extreme ones,” Gordon said with a smile.

  “I know Shane’s excited about getting some sun,” I said. “What about you, Ben?”

  “I’m just worried about barfing on the plane. This is the first time I’ve ever flown anywhere. Speaking of barf, did the hairwads from the hairy dog men smell?” asked Ben. “I bet they smelled.”

  “Terribly!” I gagged. “You were right—you wouldn’t have been able to make it very long without spewing.”

  “At least it wasn’t as bad as the fishy old man from the swamp’s gas,” Shane said. “I wonder what his bathroom looks like these days.”

  “Who?” asked Gordon.

  “Gil,” whispered Shane.

  “The coooooooode,” whispered Ben, even more quietly.

  “Yeah, his farts are insanely nasty,” I said. “That was a great idea you had to just cork his butt, Ben. Which reminds me—where is the cork?”

  “I think it’s still in my bag,” Shane said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s my turn to plug him up. It’s definitely your turn next time. The last time my thumb slipped and—”

  “AHEM!”

  The “AHEM” came from behind me, and I turned around to see…

  THE LUNCH LADY.

  Ben choked on his Mac ’n’ Sneeze. Shane and Gordon both looked in different directions.

  Lunch Lady and I locked eyes.

  She had only spoken to me once before—at Raven Hill, after my friends and I saved the old monsters there from the disgusting cat-size cockroach creatures known as sussuroblats. They had been draining the monsters of their lebensplasm, as Director Z liked to call it—or “monster juice,” as we liked to call it.

  She had surprised me with the news that she worked with Director Z and his Nurses to keep an eye on the kids at Rio Vista Middle School. When she found a kid that might be able to help out at the home, she whipped up a special bit of food that, once eaten, led them to Raven Hill.

  So far, I’m the only person who’s ever gotten to taste her Raven Hill recipes.

  “May I have a word weeth you?” she asked.

  “Aren’t you…?” I looked over at the line of students waiting at the hot-lunch counter.

  “Busy?” she finished my sentence. “Not at all.”

  A Nurse—not the school nurse, but one of the Nurses from Raven Hill—slid into place behind the hot-lunch counter. His big beefy arms were better at detaining demented monsters than doling out scoops of food. He was practically cracking the platters as he brought the scooper down.

  “Come weeth me,” she said.

  We walked out of the cafeteria and into the hall. I didn’t say anything, and just let Lunch Lady lead me down the math and science wing, straight into…

  “Mr. Stewart’s office?” I asked.

  We stood in the middle of my chemistry teacher’s room.

  “Does he work for Raven Hill, too?” I asked.

  “No,” said Lunch Lady. “But the laboratory in the back is soundproof, and that’s where he spends his entire lunch. So we won’t be heard here.”

  “Oh,” I said, a little disappointed.

  She shut the door and glared at me.

  “What are you gentlemen do-eeng?” she asked. “Are you out of your minds?”

  “I’m sorry, I—” I started to say.

  “Don’t know what you mean?” she finished my sentence…again. “Yes, well, that’s thee problem. You guys don’t even realize how much you’ve been blabbing about Raven Heell. You’re acting like workeeng een a retirement home for monsters iss perfectly normal. I just heard you talkeeng about werewolf hair theengies…”

  “Hairwads,” I interrupted her this time.

  “…all the way over at my counter. What iff students started leesteneeng een to your conversations?”

  “So what?” I said, suddenly angry. “They’ll just think we’re talking about some crazy video game. We need to get this stuff off of our chest—Director Z and the Nurses have been working us way too hard. We don’t even know what we’re saying anymore!” I knew I was whining, but I couldn’t help it. “When we agreed to help out at Raven Hill, we all thought it would be an adventure. We thought we’d get to know more about the monsters, maybe learn more about their secret powers. It was awesome when we were battling evil cockroaches together. Now it feels like they’re just using us to cook and clean—while they get stronger and angrier.”

  “Yeah, well, you better keep your tongue at school, or I might feed you sometheeng that will make you mute,” she said, wagging a finger at me.

  “Fine,” I said. “But since you’re spying on me, tell Director Z that once we’re gone, he’ll see that the monsters can take care of themselves.”

  The bell rang, and lunch was over.

  Lunch Lady opened up Mr. Stewart’s door and headed back to the cafeteria. I followed her.

  She was right. We were talking about Raven Hill constantly. But it was hard not to. They were just drivi
ng us crazy—and it would never be anything but crazy at Raven Hill. I desperately needed a break from the madness, the sleepless nights, the annoying grunts and moans.

  I returned to my friends and my Mac ’n’ Sneeze.

  “I wish we were leaving for the trip right now,” I said, and laid my head on the table.

  Strange Visitors

  That night, as usual, we slowly rode our bikes up the windy, overgrown road to the top of Raven Hill.

  The ravens circled above us. One cawed.

  “It’s nice to see you again, too, Balfor,” I said.

  “Don’t lie to the nice raven,” said Shane.

  Balfor landed on the nest on the tallest spire of Raven Hill and cocked his head strangely. “What is it?” I asked Balfor, and turned around.

  Speeding up the hill was a man in a crisp, pressed suit very much like Director Z’s. But unlike the skinny and gaunt Director Z, this gentleman was plump with a well-tanned face. His huge mustache bristled as he approached us. He stormed right up to me, grabbed me by my jacket, and pulled me up so fast that I lost my breath.

  “Hey!” I squeaked.

  His face turned from deep tan to red.

  “Vhat are you kids doing up here? Spying on zese poor old folks?” he demanded.

  “No,” I pleaded, trying to shake free of his swollen hands. “We’re here to help.”

  “What are we doing?” Gordon yelled as he jumped up to grab me. “What are you doing? Who are you? Put him down!”

  The plump man ignored Gordon and turned around to yell down the road, “Vell, vould you hurry it up! Ve seem to be haffing an issue here!”

  Two identical figures lumbered up the side of the hill. They were huge—the ground shook as they huffed and puffed their way up to where we stood.

  “Wait,” Shane said. “Those guys look like Nurses!”

  They were Nurses, although strangely, they didn’t have on the usual white Nurses’ uniforms. These two wore Bermuda shorts and colorful Hawaiian shirts.

  Shane ran down to meet them.

  “Hey, guys! Can you help us with this maniac?!” Shane yelled.

  The two Nurses charged up to Shane—and pushed him into the dirt!

  “This is crazy!” yelled Ben, and he ran into the retirement home to get help.

  Shane jumped up and assumed a karate fighting position, but the Nurses had already passed him by. They easily dragged Gordon off me, and then yanked me from the hands of the plump man.

  The well-dressed gentleman loomed over us and cracked his chunky knuckles.

  “I vill ask you again,” he said. “Vhat are you kids doing up here?”

  Shane yelled as he reached us, “Don’t you dare hurt them.”

  He paused nervously in front of the gentleman, not quite sure what to do.

  Gordon and I squirmed, but the Tropical Nurses were strong. We weren’t going anywhere.

  “Who are you?” Shane demanded.

  The mustached gentleman eyed us with caution and said, slowly, “I’m ze Direktor.”

  He leaned in closer to me. I could smell his breath as he said, “And I vant to know vhat you’re up to here.”

  Shane ran at the Direktor, when…

  “GENTLEMEN!”

  A booming voice from the retirement home stopped everyone.

  We looked up to see Director Z calmly walking down the stairs, followed by a twitchy Ben.

  “I believe there’s been a huge misunderstanding,” Director Z said calmly.

  He walked toward us and stuck out his hand.

  “Herr Direktor Detlef, it’s been quite a long time,” he said.

  “Director Zachary!” he yelled back. “It’s quite good to see you!”

  He grabbed Director Z and hugged him so hard that we heard bones snap.

  “Yes, quite good,” said Director Z, rubbing his side with a grimace. “Now, what seems to be the trouble with my associates?”

  “Your associates?” Herr Direktor Detlef gasped. “Oh, zese must be ze children zat saved your facility—of course.”

  He waved at the Tropical Nurses to let Gordon and me go. Shane stood down.

  “I’m so very sorry,” Herr Direktor Detlef said.

  He and the Tropical Nurses gave each of us a hand-crushing handshake as we introduced ourselves.

  “Here I vas sinking you were spying on ze facility.” He laughed. “And it is you who have saved it. Vait until I tell everyone at ze facility back home.”

  “My pleasure,” I said, as I cradled my crushed hand.

  “Well, then,” Director Z said, “we don’t have any more time for introductions, as I’ve gathered all the residents for a briefing, and they grow weary. What took you so long, Herr Direktor?”

  “Ve parked at ze bottom of ze hill,” he responded. “I alvays like to get a little bit of exercise ven I can.

  He pat his large belly as if it was a beautifully sculpted set of abs.

  Ben fired off a series of questions: “Facility back home? Briefing? What’s going on?”

  “All will be explained inside,” insisted Director Z.

  We stepped into the foyer, and almost immediately, the painting of Lucinda B. Smythe began to scream at Herr Direktor Detlef.

  “You charlatan. Leave this house at once!” Lucinda yelled from her dusty frame.

  “Lucinda, dear,” scolded Director Z, “you mustn’t treat our guest so rudely. He’s come too far to suffer your wicked tongue-lashing. I do apologize, Herr Direktor, but Lucinda has quite a rude streak in her.”

  “That’s all right, Zachary,” said Herr Direktor Detlef. “I’ve heard worse from some of my residents.”

  “No, it’s not all right,” screamed Lucinda. “This isn’t all right at all. Get this thing out of my house!”

  “We don’t have time to quibble, Lucinda,” said Director Z as he walked by the cranky portrait. “We’ve got business to attend to in the Great Room.”

  Excuse Me

  The Great Room was packed. Rows of old monsters lined up from front to back and side to side. They whispered and growled excitedly—a change from their normal moaning and groaning. I rubbed my sore body.

  Director Z pointed to a couple of empty seats in the back row.

  “Gentlemen,” he said to us, “we’ve saved you these seats. Please take them quickly, as we must get started.”

  He and Herr Direktor Detlef rushed up to the front of the room as we sat down. Horace, the old organ player, tapped out a more upbeat tune than usual on his keyboard. The tune made Herr Direktor Detlef smile, and he began to say something to Director Z, who laughed.

  Shane and I leaned in to hear what they were saying. That’s when Shane noticed whose behind we were sitting behind.

  “Oh no…” Shane said and pointed in front of him.

  It was Gil, the creature from the swamp.

  “Oh man,” said Ben, “I think I’m going to hurl.”

  “What was on the menu?” Gordon asked. “You know…what did he eat for lunch?”

  “It’s Monday,” I said. “So…”

  “Mexican fiesta,” we all said at once.

  We didn’t have any time to move.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Director Z started, “I have a very special guest to introduce to you tonight, and he comes with some very exciting news—Herr Direktor Detlef from the Paradise Retirement Island in the Bermuda Triangle.”

  Herr Direktor Detlef stood up. The crowd applauded loudly. Then Horace stopped the organ music and everyone stared, waiting for the Direktor to speak. Mouths opened in anticipation. A wad of drool escaped from one of the zombies’ mouths and hit the floor with a PLOP.

  “Ladies und gentlemen!” boomed the Direktor. “I come to Raven Hill bearing news of great significance. Ve heard vhat you vent through vith sose terrible sussuroblats. Ve, too, vere once veak and now haff gained strength.”

  PFFFFTTT!

  “Oh, sheesh!” whispered Ben. “He’s starting.”

  Sure enough, a small green clo
ud of gas wafted up from the wrinkled and scaly green bottom of the swamp creature.

  Herr Direktor Detlef continued, unaware of the swamp gas. “Sussuroblats haff a very hard time swimming. So, ve veren’t nearly as veakened as you vere, and can only imagine how hard it vas to be at ze epicenter of ze attack…”

  PPFFFFFTTTTTTT!

  A larger cloud floated up from the swamp creature’s seat. He sat happily in the cloud before it slowly drifted back toward us. The four of us blew as hard as we could and pushed it toward the front of the room. This time, a few of the residents started coughing.

  “His swamp gas is outta control!” hissed Gordon.

  “Hold on,” said Shane, rummaging around in his bag, “let me get the cork…”

  Shane pulled out the prized cork, and handed it to me.

  “You’re closest,” he said. “Do the deed.”

  “But you’re better at it!” I said while handing it back. “Just do it.”

  “Rock Paper Scissors?” asked Shane.

  “You’re on!” I said.

  PFFFTTTTTSS!

  “Make it quick,” said Ben, who had taken on a greenish hue. “I can’t take much more.”

  Herr Direktor Detlef kept talking, but we were too busy to notice what he said.

  “One, two, three!”

  I had rock. Shane had paper.

  “NOOO!” I hissed, and snatched the cork out of Shane’s hand. “He’s sitting down. What am I supposed to do?”

  Ben grabbed his cell phone and flung it under the swamp creature’s chair. It landed next to his webbed foot.

  “Huh?” said the swamp creature. He bent over awkwardly to grab the cell phone. I cautiously leaned forward and through my watering eyes I searched for my target. And there it was, between his frizzled green buttocks. I held my breath and started to make my move.

  I hadn’t quite finished when the swamp creature shuffled around and stared at me with a puzzled look on his face. I jerked my hands back to the top of his seat and gripped it nervously.

  “Uhhhh…,” I stuttered.