by R. L. Stine
Contents
Title Page
Welcome You are Most Wanted
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Also by R.L. Stine
About the Author
Copyright
Come in. I’m R.L. Stine. Welcome to the Goosebumps office.
I hope you didn’t have trouble finding it. Did you follow my directions? “Turn left at the third open grave and follow the path through the quicksand pits.”
You might think a graveyard is a strange place for an office. But I need a lot of quiet to think. And the only noise here is the sound of dead people not breathing.
Well, sit down. Just move those eyeballs out of your way. Yes, I know they’re still warm and wet. I keep meaning to return them to their owners. No, they’re not looking at you. Turn them the other way if they make you nervous.
Don’t worry about the giant scorpion. That’s Louie. He’s been my pet ever since he ate my dog.
It’s okay. He only craves flesh when he’s hungry. Hmmm … I can’t remember. Did I feed him today?
Hey, don’t pay any attention to those screams. Sometimes the torture chamber upstairs gets a little busy. You’ll get used to it.
Yes, this is where I write all the Goosebumps books. Cozy, isn’t it?
Why is my laptop covered in fur? I don’t know. It didn’t have fur when I bought it. Maybe I downloaded some kind of virus.
Check out that poster by the window. See those cute lawn gnomes with their funny pointed hats and their overalls and vests? The adorable painted faces?
Well, guess what? They’re not so cute. They may be small — but they can make BIG trouble.
Yes, that’s a WANTED poster. Those gnomes are wanted for being some of the most ghoulish, most evil villains in Goosebumps history.
Why am I shaking like this? I’ll tell you the truth — even I get scared when I think back to the creepiest, crawliest, grossest villains of all time. I hope you’re ready to be terrified, because I’m going to reveal their stories to you.
Yes. Here come the MOST WANTED bad guys starring in the MOST WANTED Goosebumps books.
Let’s start out with these grinning, glowing-eyed lawn gnomes.
A boy named Jay Gardener can tell you all about them. Jay can tell you about the horrifying nights he spent because of these frightening statues.
They can’t come to life, right?
That’s what Jay thought — at first.
They’re too cute to be evil?
Maybe you won’t think that after you read Jay’s story.
Maybe when you learn what Jay discovered late at night, you will understand why the lawn gnomes are … MOST WANTED.
I know I’m supposed to be careful. I know I’m supposed to be good. But sometimes you have to take a chance and hope no one is watching.
Otherwise, life would be totally boring, right?
My name is Jay Gardener. I’m twelve and sometimes I can’t help it — I like a little excitement. I mean, dare me to do something — and it’s done.
It’s just the way I am. I’m not a bad dude. Sure, I’m in trouble a lot. I’ve been in some pretty bad trouble. But that doesn’t mean I’m a criminal or anything.
Check out these big blue eyes. Are these the eyes of a criminal? No way. And my curly red hair? And the freckles on my nose? You might almost call me cute, right?
Okay, okay. Let’s not get sickening about it.
My sister, Kayla, calls me Jay Bird because she says I’m as cute as a bird. Kayla is totally weird. Besides, she has the same red hair and blue eyes. So why pick on me?
So, okay, I felt this temptation come on. You know what that is. Just a strong feeling that you have to do something you maybe shouldn’t do.
I gazed up and down our street. No one around. Good. No one to watch me.
The summer trees’ leaves shimmered in the warm sunlight. The houses and lawns gleamed so bright, I had to squint. I stepped into the shade of Mr. McClatchy’s front yard.
McClatchy lives in the big old house across the street from us. He’s a mean dude and everyone hates him. He’s bald and red-faced and as skinny as a toothpick. He wears his pants way up high so the belt is almost up to his armpits.
He yells at everyone in his high, shrill voice. He’s always chasing kids off his lawn — even new kids, like Kayla and me. He’s even mean to our dog, the sweetest golden Lab who ever lived — Mr. Phineas.
So, I had an idea to have a little fun. Of course it was wrong. Of course it wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing. But sometimes, when you see something funny to do — you just have to take a chance.
Am I right?
That morning, I saw some guys in green uniforms doing work on the tall trees in McClatchy’s front yard. When they went home, they left a ladder leaning against a tree.
I glanced up and down the street again. Still no one in sight.
I crept up to the ladder and grabbed its sides. I slid it away from the tree trunk. The ladder was tall but light. Not hard to move.
Gripping it tightly by the sides, I dragged it to the front of McClatchy’s house. I leaned it against the wall. Then I slid it to the open window on the second floor.
Breathing hard, I wiped my sweaty hands on the legs of my jeans. “Sweet,” I murmured. “When McClatchy comes home, he’ll see the ladder leaning up against the open window. And he’ll totally panic. He’ll think a burglar broke into his house.”
The idea made me laugh. I have a weird laugh. It sounds more like hiccupping than laughing. Whenever I laugh, my whole family starts to laugh because my laugh is so strange.
Well, actually, Mom and Dad haven’t been laughing with me much lately. Maybe I’ve done some things that aren’t funny. Maybe I’ve done some things I shouldn’t have. That’s why I had to promise to be good and stay out of trouble.
But the ladder against the open window was definitely funny. And it wasn’t such a bad thing to do, right? Especially since McClatchy is the meanest, most-hated old dude in the neighborhood.
Still laughing about my joke, I turned and started down the driveway. McClatchy has a tall hedge along the bottom of his yard. It’s like a wall. I guess he really wants to keep people out.
At the end of the driveway, his mailbox stood on a tilted pole. And as I passed it, I saw the trash cans in the street. The trash was bulging up under the lids — and it gave me another cool idea.
Working fast, I pulled open the mailbox, lifted the lid off a trash can — and started to stuff trash into McClatchy’s mailbox.
Yes! A greasy bag of chicken bones. A crushed soup can. Some gooey yellow stuff that looked like puke. Wet newspapers. More soup cans.
I imagined McClatchy squeaking and squealing in his high voice when he opened the mailbox and found it jammed with disgusting garbage.
Wha
t a hoot.
I started to laugh again — but quickly stopped. A choking sound escaped my throat.
Whoa.
Someone watching me. Two people watching, half-hidden by the tall hedge.
I froze. They stood side by side, staring right at me. I knew they saw everything. Everything.
A chunk of moldy cheese and a clump of newspaper fell from my hands. I staggered back from the mailbox.
Caught. I was totally caught.
“Okay. You got me. I’m sorry,” I called. “I’ll clean it up. Right away.”
I reached into the mailbox and started to pull out trash.
But the two men didn’t reply. They stood staring at me. The hedge rustled in the breeze, making shadows quiver over their still faces.
“I’m cleaning it up,” I called. “No problem.”
It took me a few more seconds to realize they weren’t people. And they weren’t alive.
“Huh?” Crumpled soda cans fell from my hands and clattered to the driveway as I took a step toward them.
Lawn gnomes.
I burst out laughing when I realized what they were.
Jay, you just freaked out because you were caught by lawn gnomes!
Walking in the shadow of the tall hedge, I stepped up to them. I placed a hand on a pointed red cap and squeezed it. Solid plaster or something.
I poked the stony dude in the eyes. I pinched his hard cheeks. “How’s it going, dudes? Lookin’ good!”
Nearly as tall as me, they stood side by side in red vests over matching red overalls. Beneath their pointed red caps, they had shiny round faces with white beards and white mustaches.
Their eyes were big. One had brown eyes. The other had black. They had stubby, wide noses, almost like pig snouts. Their mouths were curled down in angry scowls.
Yes, angry. They looked angry. They weren’t cute. They were mean looking and ugly. Their steady, cold gaze gave me a chill.
“Stop staring at me, dudes.” I covered one gnome’s eyes with my hand.
I had an idea. I danced back to the trash can. Then I placed a drippy soup can on the point of one gnome’s red cap. And I draped a sheet of brown-stained newspaper over his partner’s shoulder.
“Now you two look cool,” I said.
I stepped back to the street and slammed the lid back on the trash can. Something caught my eye. Another lawn gnome standing under a tree in McClatchy’s neighbor’s yard.
I squinted at it for a moment. And spotted another angry-looking gnome near the neighbor’s front walk. This one wore a blue cap. Its arms were straight out as if it were directing traffic.
Why do so many homes in this neighborhood have lawn gnomes?
My family moved here only three weeks ago. This was the first time I noticed them all.
I turned and gazed across the street at the Brickmans’ house next door to ours. Yes. They had three lawn gnomes lined up along their driveway.
Totally weird.
I kicked a crushed soda can onto the grass. Then I moved forward and kicked it again. I stopped as a heavy shadow swept over me.
At first, I thought it was the shadow of the hedge. Or a tree.
But then I raised my eyes — and gasped.
McClatchy!
He grabbed me by the shoulders. His hands were bony hard, like skeleton hands. He lowered his red face to me and screamed in his shrill voice:
“I’ve been home the whole time. Watching you. What do we do with a troublemaker?”
McClatchy squeezed my shoulders in his bony hands. Then he let go of me. He was breathing hard, making whistling noises through his nose. His eyes bulged wide.
“S-sorry,” I stammered.
“You’re on my bad list now,” McClatchy rasped. “And believe me, kid — you don’t want to be on my bad list.”
“Sorry,” I repeated.
His eyes were on the open mailbox, jammed with trash. His shoulders shuddered. He kept making that whistling sound. Was he going to totally lose it?
I heard the scrape of footsteps. I turned toward them. “Oh, no!”
Now I was really in trouble. My dad came walking toward us. He had Mr. Phineas on his leash. “What’s happening here?” Dad called.
Dad is tall and athletic looking. He has wavy brown hair and dark eyes and a great, gleaming smile. Mom calls him her “movie-star husband,” I guess because he’s kind of handsome.
He was in his workout clothes — a gray sleeveless T-shirt over gray sweatpants.
I lowered my head as he stepped up to us. Mr. Phineas sniffed furiously at the garbage that had fallen out of the can.
“Your son had better shape up,” McClatchy said through clenched teeth.
I felt Dad’s eyes on me. I kept my head down.
“What has Jay done?” Dad asked. “Did he spill this garbage?”
McClatchy motioned toward the house with his head. “He moved that ladder to the open window. I think he planned to sneak into my house.”
Dad gasped.
“No way!” I screamed. “I just wanted you to think —”
“I’m sure Jay wouldn’t break into your house,” Dad told McClatchy.
“He didn’t know I was home,” McClatchy said. “I saw everything.”
Dad put his hand on my chin and forced me to look at him. “Jay, did you plan to go into Mr. McClatchy’s house?” he demanded.
I shook my head. “No way. Of course not.”
He and McClatchy stared at me for a long while, as if I were some kind of lab specimen.
Dad spoke up first. “Jay hasn’t been himself lately,” he told McClatchy.
McClatchy just nodded. He kept rubbing his lips over his teeth, making a wet, smacky sound.
Dad picked up the soup can and dirty newspaper from the two lawn gnomes. He stuffed the garbage in the trash can. “Very sorry,” he said softly. “It won’t happen again. Will it, Jay?”
“No,” I muttered.
Mr. Phineas was licking up something green and disgusting from the spilled trash. I tugged him away and pulled the green gunk from between his teeth. Then I followed Dad across the street.
He led me into the living room. “Have a seat.” He pointed to the couch. Mr. Phineas had already plopped down on the rug in front of the fireplace.
I perched on the edge of the couch. “Are we going to have a serious talk now?” I said.
Dad stood above me. He frowned. “Son, tell me. Why are you acting so strange? You know you’re not supposed to play tricks on the neighbors.”
I smoothed my hand over the green leather arm of the couch. “Sorry, Dad,” I murmured. “I … was just bored.”
“Find things to do,” Dad snapped. “I don’t want you to get in any more trouble. Do you understand me?”
I nodded.
“You can spend the next five nights after dinner in your room,” Dad said. “The next time, your punishment will be a lot worse.”
“But, Dad —”
He shook his head angrily. Then he spun around and stomped angrily out of the living room.
Well, Jay, you messed up again.
I slumped back on the couch. I didn’t want to make people angry at me. I just wanted to have some fun.
I called to Mr. Phineas to come over to me. I felt like petting him. But he wouldn’t budge from his rug by the mantel. It’s his favorite place.
Kayla walked into the room. “Don’t tell me you’re in trouble again, Jay.”
“None of your business,” I snapped.
She tossed back her curly red hair and sighed. “Nothing ever changes. We had to move because of you — and now you still act like a jerk in our new home.”
“I already apologized,” I muttered. “Maybe you could cut me some slack?”
She shrugged. “Let’s go ride our bikes.”
“Huh?” I climbed up off the couch.
“You heard me. Let’s ride our bikes. There’s a lot of stuff in this neighborhood we haven’t seen yet.”
“Yeah,
okay,” I agreed. “At least we can’t get in trouble riding our bikes — right?”
Right?
I followed Kayla outside. The afternoon sun was lowering over the trees. A cool breeze ruffled my shirt.
Our bikes were leaning against the side of the house. Kayla’s bike is brand-new. It’s a very sleek racing bike with about a million gears. She got it for her birthday just before we moved.
My bike is a piece of junk. The handlebars have rust spots on them. And the hand brakes only work some of the time. Usually, I have to stop my bike by scraping my shoes on the pavement.
Fun, huh?
I lifted the bike off the wall and started to walk it to the driveway. But I stopped when something at the back of the house caught my eye.
“Whoa.” I set the bike back and made my way along the brick wall. The sun was in my eyes. I had to squint to see.
But as I reached the space between the house and the garage, I saw the two lawn gnomes clearly. They looked a lot like the lawn gnomes in McClatchy’s yard.
They both were dressed in red. Both had the funny pointed hats. Both had white beards and mustaches.
One had its elbow against the bricks and appeared to be leaning against the side of our house. His partner had one shiny white hand raised with a finger out, as if he was pointing at me.
They both gazed wide-eyed straight ahead. Their faces were frozen in blank expressions.
Without taking my eyes off them, I called to my sister. “Kayla — when did we get these lawn gnomes? Dad didn’t say anything about buying lawn gnomes.”
I turned to the driveway. She was already racing away, pedaling down the street.
“Hey — wait up!” I shouted. “Wait for me!” She was out of sight. I don’t think she heard me.
