62 - Monster Blood IV Read online

  MONSTER BLOOD IV

  Goosebumps - 62

  R.L. Stine

  (An Undead Scan v1.5)

  1

  Evan Ross was thinking about Monster Blood. He thought about Monster Blood a lot.

  Evan wished he had never discovered Monster Blood. The sticky, slimy green goo had to be the most dangerous substance on Earth.

  Evan knew that as soon as you open a can of Monster Blood, you are doomed. The Monster Blood will grow and grow—and suck up everything in its path.

  And if you accidentally eat some of the green goo—look out! A tiny chunk of Monster Blood had turned Cuddles, the classroom hamster, into a growling monster as big as a gorilla!

  And when Evan accidentally swallowed a little bit of it, he shot up taller than his house. It was not the happiest day of Evan’s life. It was a day he kept trying to forget.

  So why was he thinking about Monster Blood today?

  His green sweater reminded him of Monster Blood. He had begged his mom not to make the sweater green. But she had already started knitting it. Too late to change colors.

  “You look good in green,” she told him. “It brings out your eyes.”

  “I don’t want to bring out my eyes,” Evan told her.

  He wanted to scream. The yarn she used was greener than the Jolly Green Giant! He pictured himself trapped inside a giant green blob of Monster Blood.

  “Wear it to your cousin Kermit’s,” Mrs. Ross instructed him.

  “I don’t need a sweater,” he protested. “Just put it in my suitcase.”

  “Wear it. It’s winter,” she insisted. “It gets cold, even here in Atlanta.”

  “I don’t want to stay at Kermit’s,” Evan grumbled, pulling the sweater over his head. Yuck. Green—and itchy. “How long are you and Dad going to be out West?”

  “Only nine or ten days,” his mother replied.

  “‘Only’?” Evan cried, struggling into the tight wool sleeves. “I’ll die! Aunt Dee’s food is so horrible! She puts that hot sauce on everything. Even brownies!”

  “Your aunt does not put hot sauce on brownies,” Mrs. Ross replied sternly. “She likes to make spicy food, but—”

  “I’ll explode!” Evan insisted. “And that geeky little creep, Kermit—”

  “Don’t call your cousin a geeky little creep,” Mrs. Ross scolded.

  “Well, he is one—isn’t he?” Evan demanded.

  “That’s beside the point,” his mom said. She pulled the green sweater down over Evan’s waist and admired it. “It fits perfectly. And I like that shade of green.”

  “I look like a ripe watermelon,” Evan grumbled.

  “Don’t forget, Aunt Dee is paying you to babysit Kermit,” his mom reminded him. She handed him his suitcase. “You want to go to sleepaway camp this summer, right? Well, you can’t go to camp unless you earn the money to pay for it.”

  “I know, I know.” He kissed his mom good-bye.

  “Your dad and I will call you when we get to Tucson,” Mrs. Ross said. “Take good care of Kermit. And don’t give Aunt Dee a hard time.”

  “I won’t eat till you get back,” Evan told her. “I’ll probably weigh ten pounds.”

  His mom laughed.

  She thinks I’m joking, Evan thought bitterly.

  He hoisted up his backpack and his suitcase and headed for the back door. He passed a mirror in the hall and caught a glimpse of himself in the sweater. “Sick,” he muttered. “I look like a pickle.”

  “Evan—what did you say?” his mom called.

  “I said, ‘Thanks for the cool sweater!’” he called back to her.

  A few seconds later, he was walking through backyards, making his way to Kermit’s house at the end of the block. Maybe I can hide this sweater somewhere, he thought. Maybe I can give it to Kermit as a Christmas present.

  No. Kermit is such a shrimp, the sweater would be down to his knees.

  It was a sunny, crisp winter day. The sweater glowed under the bright sunlight. It really did remind Evan of Monster Blood.

  He pictured the slimy green gunk. He pictured heaps and heaps of it, oozing over the backyards he passed, bubbling and pulsing.

  As he walked along, Evan had no idea that he was about to have another Monster Blood adventure.

  He had no idea that he was about to discover a whole new kind of Monster Blood.

  He had no idea that the green Monster Blood was silly kid stuff compared to the Monster Blood he was about to find.

  2

  He was nearly to Kermit’s backyard, still thinking about Monster Blood, when a dark shadow swept over him.

  He raised his eyes. “Conan—!” he gasped.

  A big hulk of a boy loomed in front of him, hands clenched into big fists, blocking Evan’s path. He lived in the house behind Kermit’s.

  His name was Conan Barber. But everyone called him Conan the Barbarian. That’s because he was the biggest, meanest kid in Atlanta.

  Conan placed the heel of his size-twelve sneaker on top of Evan’s shoe and stomped down hard.

  Evan yelped in pain. “Conan—why’d you do that?” he squealed.

  “Do what?” Conan grunted. He narrowed his cold blue eyes at Evan.

  “You—you crushed my foot!” Evan gasped.

  “Accidents happen,” Conan replied. He snickered. Despite the winter cold, he wore a gray muscle shirt and tight black spandex bike shorts. “Here. Let me fix it,” he offered.

  And he stomped down with all his might on Evan’s other shoe.

  “Owwwwwww.” Evan took a few painful hops, holding his throbbing foot. “What’s the big idea?”

  “Breaking in my new sneakers,” Conan replied, snickering again.

  Evan wanted to wipe the smile off Conan’s face. But how do you wipe the smile off a kid who’s built like a Monster Truck?

  “I’ve got to go,” Evan said quietly. He picked up his suitcase and motioned with his head toward Kermit’s house.

  “Hey—!” Conan stared down at the ground. Then he raised his eyes to Evan. “Not so fast. You got the bottoms of my sneakers dirty.”

  “Excuse me?” Evan tried to step around Conan. But Conan blocked his path.

  “Brand-new sneakers,” Conan grumbled. “And you got the bottoms dirty.”

  “But—but—” Evan sputtered.

  “Oh, well.” Conan sighed. “I’ll let you go this time.”

  Evan’s heart pounded. He breathed a loud sigh of relief. “You will? You’ll let me go?”

  Conan nodded. He swept a beefy hand back through his wavy blond hair. “Yeah. You caught me in a good mood. Get going.”

  “Th-thanks,” Evan stammered.

  Conan stepped aside. Evan started past him.

  He stopped when he heard a high, shrill voice ring out: “Leave my cousin alone!”

  “Oh, noooo,” Evan moaned. He turned to see Kermit running across the grass.

  “Leave Evan alone!” Kermit called. He waved a tiny fist at Conan. “Pick on somebody your own size!”

  “Kermit—stay out of this!” Evan shouted.

  Kermit stepped up beside Evan. He was tiny and skinny. He had a pile of white-blond hair, a serious face, and round black eyes behind red plastic-framed glasses.

  Standing next to Conan, he reminded Evan of a little ant. A bug that Conan could easily crush with one tromp of his heavy-duty size twelves.

  “Take a walk, Conan!” Kermit squeaked. “Give Evan a break!”

  Conan’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “I was going to give Evan a break,” he growled. “Until you came along. But now I guess I have to teach you both a lesson.”

  He turned and grabbed the front of Evan’s sweater.

  3

  “Evan—what happened to yo
ur sweater?” Aunt Dee demanded.

  Evan set his suitcase down on the kitchen floor. “Well…”

  The left sleeve of his new sweater was normal length. Conan had taken the right sleeve and pulled it… pulled… pulled… until the sleeve dragged on the ground.

  “Mom made one sleeve a little too long,” Evan explained. He didn’t want to tell his aunt about Conan.

  Why look for trouble?

  Conan promised that next time he’d pull Evan’s right arm until it fit the sleeve!

  “Evan picked a fight with Conan,” Kermit reported.

  Aunt Dee’s mouth dropped open. “You shouldn’t start fights, Evan.”

  Evan glared at Kermit. Why was the little creep always trying to get Evan in trouble?

  “That boy Conan is big,” Aunt Dee commented. “You really shouldn’t pick on him.”

  Good advice, Evan thought bitterly. He lifted the mile-long sweater sleeve, then let it drop back to the floor.

  “I’m going to fix Conan,” Kermit declared. “I mixed up a formula that grows hair. I’m going to give it to Conan to drink—and he’ll grow hair on his tongue. Whenever he tries to talk, he’ll just go, ‘Woffff woffff.’”

  Aunt Dee laughed. “Kermit, stop!” she scolded. “You’re starting to sound like a mad scientist!”

  “I am a mad scientist!” Kermit declared proudly.

  He and his mother laughed. But Evan couldn’t even force a smile.

  It’s no joke, Evan thought. Kermit really is a mad scientist. He spends all his time down in his lab in the basement mixing bottles of green stuff with bottles of blue stuff.

  One afternoon down in the lab, Evan asked Kermit what he was trying to discover. “I’m searching for a secret formula,” Kermit replied, pouring a red liquid into a test tube.

  “A secret formula that will do what?” Evan had asked.

  “How should I know?” Kermit exclaimed. “It’s secret!”

  Now Evan had to spend the next ten days watching Kermit do his mad scientist act. And somehow he had to keep Kermit out of trouble.

  “I’m so glad you’re staying with us,” Aunt Dee told Evan. “I just think it’s great that you two cousins are so close.”

  “Yeah. Great,” Evan muttered.

  “Wofff wofff!” Kermit declared, giggling.

  Aunt Dee led the two of them to Kermit’s room at the back of the house. Kermit had a foldout bed where Evan would sleep.

  Books and computer disks and papers and science magazines cluttered the floor. Evan had to step around a giant plastic model of the solar system to get to the dresser.

  Aunt Dee helped him unpack his suitcase. Then she said, “You two run along. Go outside or something. I’m going into the kitchen to make dinner.”

  Dinner. The word sent a chill down Evan’s back.

  “What are we having?” he asked.

  “It’s a surprise,” Aunt Dee told him.

  Another chill.

  “I brought my Super-Soaker,” Evan told Kermit. “Let’s go outside and have a water fight.”

  Kermit shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He led the way down the basement stairs to his science lab. “I want to show you something.”

  Evan stared at the shelves of jars and bottles and test tubes, all brimming with mysterious, dangerous materials. “I really don’t feel safe—” he started.

  Something bumped him hard from behind.

  Evan spun around and gazed down at Dogface, Kermit’s huge sheepdog. “Stop bumping me!” Evan snapped.

  The dog stuck out his fat tongue and licked Evan’s hand. It left a sticky gob of dog drool in his palm.

  “Dogface likes you,” Kermit said.

  “Yuck,” Evan groaned. He searched the lab table for a paper towel to wipe off the gunk.

  “I want to try a little test,” Kermit told him.

  “No way!” Evan protested. “No little tests! The last time you tried a little test, you turned my nose blue.”

  “That was a mistake,” Kermit replied. “This test is different. This test isn’t dangerous.” He raised his right hand. “I swear.”

  “What do I have to do?” Evan asked warily. “Drink something and have my tongue grow hair?”

  Kermit shook his head. “No. I’m not ready to test that on a human yet.”

  “Good,” Evan said, relieved. “Let’s get our Super-Soakers and go outside.” Evan really wanted to have a water fight. It was the only time he was allowed to attack Kermit and get away with it!

  “After the test,” Kermit replied. “The test only takes a minute. I promise.”

  Evan sighed. “Okay. What do I have to do?”

  Kermit held up a black bandanna. “A blindfold,” he said. “Put it on.”

  “Excuse me?” Evan cried, backing away. “Do you really think I’m going to let you blindfold me?”

  “It isn’t dangerous!” Kermit insisted in his high, shrill voice. “I just want to see if you can identify something. That’s all. It will take a second.”

  Evan argued with his cousin for a while longer. But he ended up slipping on the blindfold. “Promise we’ll go outside after this?”

  “Promise,” Kermit replied. He checked to make sure Evan’s blindfold was tight. Then he took Evan’s hand and lifted it to a big glass jar.

  He pushed Evan’s hand into the jar. “Tell me what’s in the jar,” Kermit instructed.

  Staring at total blackness, Evan wrapped his hand around something warm and prickly.

  “Hmmmm…” What is it? he wondered. What could it be?

  As he tried to identify it, he felt something crawl up the back of his hand. It slipped under his shirt cuff and crawled up his arm.

  “Huh?”

  He felt a soft, pinching sensation on his hand.

  Something prickled his wrist.

  What is it? What is it?

  He couldn’t take it anymore. He ripped away the blindfold.

  Gazed into the jar.

  And then let out a horrified scream.

  4

  “Tarantulas?” Evan shrieked.

  One of the hairy creatures clung to his arm underneath his shirtsleeve. Another inched its way across the back of his hand.

  “Don’t scream like that,” Kermit warned, his eyes locked on Evan’s arm.

  “What kind of test is this?” Evan shrieked. “What are you trying to prove?”

  Kermit didn’t look up from the crawling tarantulas. “Someone told me that tarantulas won’t bite you,” he explained. “Unless they sense your fear.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Evan cried. “Sense my fear?”

  “Ssshhhh.” Kermit raised a finger to his lips. “Be very calm. Calm… calm…” He grinned at Evan. “This is an interesting experiment—isn’t it?”

  “I’ll kill you!” Evan screamed. “I’ll kill you for this, Kermit! When I’m finished with you, you’ll go ‘woffff woffff’ for the rest of your life!”

  “Careful,” Kermit warned softly. “Your arm is shaking. Don’t let them see your fear.”

  Evan struggled to steady his arm. One tarantula prickled his wrist. Another one stood on the back of his hand.

  “Get these off!” Evan demanded in a frantic whisper. “I’m warning you—HEEEEY!”

  Evan felt a hard bump from behind.

  Dogface again!

  Startled, Evan’s hands shot up—and two tarantulas went flying.

  One landed with a soft THUD on the lab table.

  The other landed on Evan’s head.

  Evan gasped. He felt eight pointy tarantula legs scrambling through his hair.

  “Don’t upset it,” Kermit instructed. “Be very calm. Don’t let it know you’re afraid. A tarantula bite can be very painful.”

  “Hey, guys—what’s going on down there?” Aunt Dee’s voice rang through the basement.

  “Evan is playing with my tarantulas,” Kermit reported.

  Playing?

  Evan wanted to scream. He pictured Kermit eating a
tarantula sandwich.

  No. That’s not a good enough punishment, he decided.

  “Well, it’s too nice a day to stay down in the basement playing with spiders,” Aunt Dee scolded.

  “My tarantulas aren’t just any old spiders!” Kermit fumed.

  “Evan, your friend Andy is here,” Aunt Dee called down. “I think all three of you should go outside and get some fresh air.”

  “Andy?” Evan called. Without thinking, he started toward the stairs.

  “Don’t move!” Kermit warned. “Don’t get them excited!”

  Evan froze. The tarantula prickled the top of his head. He watched in horror as the other one made its way across the lab table and began crawling up his arm.

  Andy burst down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Her short brown hair bobbed behind her as she hurried across the basement to them.

  Andy didn’t dress like most sixth graders. She didn’t care what other kids wore. She liked bright colors.

  Today she wore a shiny magenta windbreaker over yellow tights. Her bright orange backpack hung over one shoulder.

  “Hey, guys!” she greeted them breathlessly. “What are you doing?”

  “An experiment,” Kermit replied solemnly.

  “So what else is new!” Andy said, rolling her eyes. But then her mouth dropped open in shock. She pointed at Evan with a trembling finger. “Evan! You have a tarantula on your head!”

  Evan felt the creature dig into his hair.

  “It’s part of the experiment,” Kermit told Andy. “There’s another tarantula crawling on his arm.”

  “Get… them… off….” Evan ordered Kermit through gritted teeth.

  Andy laughed. “This is an awesome experiment!”

  Evan let out a growl and raised his fists.

  “Calm,” Kermit warned. “If they sense your fear, you’re dead meat.”

  Evan turned to Andy for help. But she had unzipped her backpack and was digging inside.

  The tarantula prickled his scalp as it moved toward his left ear. “Kermit…” he begged.

  Evan gasped as Andy pulled a blue plastic can from her backpack.

  “Evan, look what I found!” Her dark eyes lit up. An evil grin spread across her face.