Beware of the Purple Peanut Butter Page 9

You glance to the opposite side of the tent. The fattest lady you have ever seen is trimming her long black beard. A man is helping her by holding a mirror. But he’s standing on his hands and holding the mirror between his feet!

  Hey, you think, being big isn’t so bad here!

  Just then, you feel something poke you in the shoulder. Startled, you turn and come face-to-face with a small, fat man in a yellow clown suit.

  “You’re late!” he scolds you. He sounds mad, but you can’t help laughing. It’s hard to take him too seriously with his whiteface makeup and a giant painted red mouth.

  “This is no laughing matter,” he says. “It’s show time! Now, get out there!” Before you can protest, he pokes you with a large tent pole.

  “Youch!” you exclaim as you stumble through a flap in the curtain. It’s dark. Something smells really gross. Where are you?

  Find out on PAGE 84.

  This magnetism might not be so bad, you think. Maybe this summer won’t be so boring after all!

  As you walk along the street, you pretend you are a magnetic superhero. Every time you pass by a metal pole, you act as if you are commanding it to bow down to you.

  If only Barney and Dora were metal robots, you think. I’d have it made!

  You think about how you can take advantage of your new magnetic power. Suddenly, you hear a strange sound. It almost sounds like a roaring ocean. You turn to see what could be making such a racket.

  You can’t believe what you are seeing! Hundreds and hundreds of cans are flying in your direction. They look like a swarm of giant metal bees. They soar over a high cement wall, heading right your way. You glance at the sign on the wall.

  FISKEVILLE RECYCLING CENTER.

  You are about to be crushed under thousands of pounds of recyclable cans — thanks to your magnetic personality.

  THE END

  You gaze at the kid in shock. The kid stares back, looking just as stunned. You realize what must have happened.

  “The laser switched our bodies!” Dr. Abbott cries. But he says it in your voice.

  “I know,” you reply, sounding like Dr. Abbott.

  “We have to switch back!” he exclaims.

  You think for a moment. “Not yet,” you reply.

  “What do you mean, ‘Not yet’?” Dr. Abbott demands. “When?”

  “After the summer is over,” you say. When I won’t be stuck with Barney the Bully and Dull Dora anymore, you think.

  “Out of the question!” Dr. Abbott roars.

  “Can you change back without my help?”

  “Of course not!” Dr. Abbott exclaims.

  “Then I guess you don’t have a choice,” you state calmly. You go to the desk and find your aunt’s number in the directory.

  “What are you doing?” Dr. Abbott demands as you punch in your aunt’s number. “You can’t just leave me like this!”

  You hear Aunt Fiona’s voice come on the line.

  “Can you please get this kid out of here?” you bark in Dr. Abbott’s grown-up voice. “I can’t get any work done!”

  “Don’t worry, Doc,” you say as you hang up. “I’ll come get you as soon as I discover a formula to make my creepy cousins disappear.”

  THE END

  The safety pin clatters to the ground.

  You missed.

  Well, you’ll just have to try again.

  You plant your feet, twirl the rope over your head, focus on the shelf, and …

  This time it works! The pin catches on the top shelf. With all your strength, you pull yourself hand over hand up the string.

  By the time you’re halfway up, your arm muscles are trembling. A breeze causes the string to swing out and away from the refrigerator. You swing back and forth. Back and forth. You hold on to the string tightly till the breeze dies down. Then you continue climbing.

  At last you reach the top shelf. You let go of your rope-string and gaze around. Oh, no!

  The jar is gone! All that’s left is the chocolate-cake box.

  Now what do you do? This was your last chance.

  Go to PAGE 49.

  What is happening to me? you wonder. Am I sick? Do I have a weird disease? If I keep getting bigger, I’m not going to fit into any of my clothes!

  You stop in the middle of the street.

  A terrible thought has just occurred to you.

  What if you never stop growing?

  You stand there, worrying, and a bus pulls up to the curb and stops. You notice a huge advertisement plastered on its side:

  GETTING TOO BIG?

  CLOTHES SEEM TO BE SHRINKING?

  THE SOLUTION IS AT ARNOLD’S!

  Who is Arnold? you wonder. And could Arnold’s be the answer to your problem?

  If you go to Arnold’s, turn to PAGE 61.

  If you think you should continue home, go to PAGE 95.

  You hear the sharp CRACK! as the bat connects with the ball. Then you watch, amazed, as the ball takes off, high in the air, clear across the field.

  “Home run!” some of the kids shout.

  You notice Barney’s mouth drop open.

  You don’t move from the plate. You stare as the ball continues straight toward a house on the next block. You watch in disbelief as the ball smashes right through the enormous front window.

  You don’t even care that you broke the window. This was your first home run ever! As you round the bases your teammates cheer. Even Barney looks impressed.

  You feel great! Until you hear the unmistakable sound of police sirens.

  Headed your way.

  Go on to PAGE 112.

  BEWARE!!

  DO NOT READ THIS

  BOOK FROM

  BEGINNING TO END!

  You can’t believe it! You stare out the window at the creepy cemetery in your grandmother’s backyard. The graves are moving! You’re sure of it. Then you turn to see an even more frightening sight — your grandmother’s house is haunted by ghosts. Lots of ghosts. Evil ghosts who want you!

  Why are the creeping coffins creeping? Do you stay to find out or do you race home — even though a terrifying ghost is waiting for you there, too?

  If you stay you discover that the coffins are spelling a message in the graveyard — a message that spells out your doom. Unless you can find the ghost who is the Keeper of the Sword, steal the sword, and plunge it into the grave of the MPG! What’s an MPG? You’ll have to find out for yourself — but hurry, the ghosts are moving closer and closer….

  You’re in control of this scary adventure. You decide what will happen. And how terrifying the scares will be!

  Start on PAGE 1. Then follow the instructions at the bottom of each page. You make the choices.

  SO TAKE A DEEP BREATH. CROSS YOUR FINGERS. AND TURN TO PAGE 1 NOW TO GIVE YOURSELF GOOSEBUMPS!

  “I’m bored,” you moan. “I’m so bored, I could eat flies. Just to see how they taste.”

  “Flies have germs,” your grandmother replies.

  It is a hot, sticky day in the middle of July. You plop down into a creaky old chair in your grandmother’s kitchen. Your parents dropped you off yesterday, before they left for their vacation. And already you could die of boredom.

  Your grandmother’s old dog, Sparkle, yawns loudly. He crawls under the table. Moments later, he begins to snore.

  “I know just how you feel, Sparkle,” you say. You sigh loudly.

  “Why don’t you go outside and find something to do?” your grandmother suggests. She looks up from the pie she’s baking and nods toward the backyard.

  Go out there? you think. Into her backyard? No way.

  You glance out the window. It’s probably ninety degrees in the shade, but you shiver. Your grandmother’s house is right in front of an old cemetery. Rows and rows of old, crumbling tombstones sit just beyond the edge of her backyard.

  But that’s not what scares you.

  What scares you is that the tombstones have been moving!

  Go on to PAGE 2.

  You notic
ed it right after you arrived yesterday.

  You saw the tombstones from your bedroom window on the second floor. You could tell some of the graves had cool carvings on them, so you decided to go outside and take a closer look.

  But when you entered the graveyard, something was different. Strange.

  Some of the graves were out of place.

  Nah, can’t be, you told yourself. Graves don’t disappear.

  But still …

  From your bedroom window, you could have sworn there were six or seven graves in the back row.

  Now there were only three!

  Nah…. You must have counted wrong. You decided to forget it and went to bed.

  But when you woke up this morning and glanced out the window, the coffins had moved again.

  Now there were ten in the back row! And the middle rows seemed more crowded. It almost looked as if some of the graves were moving forward and some of the graves were moving backward, and there was a big traffic jam in the center.

  The coffins were rearranging themselves!

  But how? And why?

  Go on to PAGE 3.

  Your grandmother taps you on the shoulder. She snaps you out of your daydream. “Go on,” she says. “Go play outside.”

  Outside? Out there? You shudder as you glance out the kitchen window again. “Oh, no,” you cry. “It’s disappeared!”

  “What’s disappeared?” your grandmother asks.

  “The grave with the angel on it!” you screech, pointing out the window. “It’s gone!”

  One headstone in particular caught your eye yesterday. It had an angel carving on it. The angel looked so realistic you practically believed she could fly away.

  Did she?

  Your grandmother peers out the kitchen window. “Don’t be a goose,” she scolds you. “That tombstone is still there.”

  You don’t answer her. You can’t. Your heart is pounding crazily and your mouth has gone dry. You bolt out the back door. You’ve got to see for yourself.

  But in the graveyard you discover that your grandmother is right. The tombstone with the angel isn’t gone.

  It just moved!

  It had been in the last row. Now it’s up front.

  I’m losing my mind, you think. Losing it completely.

  Or are you?

  Find out on PAGE 4.

  You run back into the house shouting.

  “Grandma!” you yell. “That grave with the angel on it —”

  Your grandmother interrupts you. “You don’t have to shout, dear. The angel?” She looks up from her pie crust. “That’s a nice one. Let me see. Who was buried there? Oh, yes. That’s Elmyra Martin’s grave.”

  Before you can explain about the moving gravestones, a voice on the far side of the room makes you jump. “The name is Elvira Martin,” the voice says sharply. “Not Elmyra. You never could get my name right!”

  Your mouth drops open. A strange woman now stands in the doorway that leads from the kitchen into the hall.

  A very strange woman. Because she isn’t a living, breathing woman. She’s a ghost!

  “Uh, Grandma …?” you begin. But from the way your granny is humming to herself, you can tell she doesn’t hear or see this scary visitor.

  “And don’t you stare at me, you little wretch,” the ghost says, pointing at you. “Or you’ll be sorry.”

  What are you going to do? Suddenly you’re living in a haunted house!

  If you run outside, turn to PAGE 18.

  If you talk to the ghost, turn to PAGE 25.

  R.L. Stine’s books are read all over the world. So far, his books have sold more than 300 million copies, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written the teen series Fear Street and the funny series Rotten School, as well as the Mostly Ghostly series, The Nightmare Room series, and the two-book thriller Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and Minnie, his King Charles spaniel. You can learn more about him at www.RLStine.com.

  Goosebumps book series created by Parachute Press, Inc.

  Copyright © 1996 by Scholastic Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, GOOSEBUMPS, GOOSEBUMPS HORRORLAND, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First edition, June 1996

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-84110-8