The Blob That Ate Everyone

by R. L. Stine

  What’s his problem? I wondered. He’s too dressed up to be jogging!

  “Whoa!” I had to swerve to the curb as a blue station wagon roared toward me. The woman at the wheel honked her horn and waved frantically to me. Her tires squealed as she shot around the corner.

  “Everyone is in such a hurry today,” I muttered to myself.

  Then I heard a scream. A man’s scream.

  I pedaled faster. I was a block from town. I could see the awning over the doorway of Jack’s grocery on the corner.

  I saw two people running past the store. Running at top speed, waving their hands.

  I screeched to a halt when I heard another scream.

  “Look out!” someone shrieked.

  “Run! Call the police!”

  Two little kids ran past me. One of them was sobbing.

  “Hey — what’s going on?” I called to them.

  But they kept running. They didn’t answer.

  I started pedaling again, standing up. I leaned over my handlebars, trying to see what all the fuss was about.

  As I reached town, I saw people running down the center of the street. Cars honked. People were screaming.

  “Hey — what’s going on?” I called. “Is there a fire or something? Hey — somebody tell me what’s happening. Somebody —”

  And then I saw what was happening.

  And I opened my mouth in a shrill scream of horror — and fell off my bike.

  “OW!”

  I landed hard on my right side. The bike slammed on top of me. The handlebar jabbed me in the neck.

  A man ran past. “Get away, kid!” he shouted. “Hurry! Get away!”

  I shoved the bike off me and climbed to my feet.

  My heart pounding in my chest, I brushed myself off.

  And gaped at the enormous, pink Blob Monster throbbing on the next corner.

  “Ohhh.” A horrified moan escaped my throat.

  It looks just as I described it in my story! I realized.

  Like a huge, slimy human heart. Pink and wet. With tiny black eyes. And purple veins knotted on top of its head. And a mouth cut into its belly.

  Throbbing. Throbbing …

  “It — it’s my monster!” I cried.

  Two little girls frowned at me as their mother tugged them away. I recognized her. Mrs. Willow, who lives across the street.

  “Zackie — run!” she cried, pulling each girl by a hand. “It’s a horrible monster!”

  “I know,” I murmured.

  She pulled her daughters across the street. But I didn’t follow them.

  I took a deep breath and made my way slowly down the street toward the throbbing Blob Monster.

  I wrote this, I realized.

  Just before I came to town, I typed this scene. I wrote that the Blob Monster attacked the town.

  And I’ll bet I know what happens next.

  As I stepped closer, I saw the trail of thick slime the monster left behind it. Its belly pulled open, and I saw its purple tongue darting from side to side.

  My legs trembled as I stepped even closer.

  People screamed and ran. Cars and vans roared past, horns honking.

  Everyone was running, desperate to escape. But I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

  I made you! I thought. Horrified and curious and amazed — all at the same time.

  I created you!

  I wrote this story!

  The Blob Monster stared back at me through its tiny, black eyes.

  Did it know who I was? Did it know that I created it?

  As I stared in amazement, its mouth opened wider. It made sick, sucking sounds, and the purple tongue scraped the sides of its mouth.

  Thick, yellow drool poured out of the open mouth.

  And the Blob Monster bounced forward.

  Its purple tongue leaped out at me.

  “Hey!” I cried out. I struggled to back away.

  The hot, sticky tongue wrapped around my leg. Started to pull me toward the slimy, open mouth.

  “Let go!” I tugged on the tongue as hard as I could. “Help me!”

  Two dark-uniformed police officers leaped in front of me. They had their nightsticks raised.

  With angry cries, they both began pounding the throbbing creature.

  POUND. POUND. POUND.

  The nightsticks made a soft plopping sound with each hit.

  The Blob Monster uttered a sickening gurgle. And its tongue slid off my leg.

  “Run!” one of the officers screamed. “Get going!”

  My legs were shaking so hard, I nearly fell. I could still feel the slimy, hot tongue on my leg.

  I stumbled back.

  And gaped in horror as the Blob Monster pulled open its mouth. The fat purple tongue swung around both police officers.

  They beat it with their sticks. They shoved it. They tried to wrestle free.

  But the tongue tightened, tightened around them — and pulled them. Pulled them into the huge, open mouth in the creature’s belly.

  Pulled them both inside.

  And then the mouth slammed shut with a disgusting SPLAT.

  “No! Noooooo!” I wailed.

  I wanted to pound my fists against the monster. Pound it until it melted to the ground.

  “It’s all my fault!” I screamed.

  I wrote that scene with the policemen.

  It was all in the story I had just typed. I wrote that the Blob Monster ate them both.

  And now it had come true!

  My frightening story had come true. Every scene of it.

  The Blob Monster uttered disgusting gulping sounds as it digested its human meal. Its tiny black eyes locked on mine as it gulped.

  What happens next?

  What happens next in my story? I asked myself.

  Trembling all over, my heart pounding, I struggled to think.

  What happens next?

  And then — with a shudder — I remembered what I had written.

  The Blob Monster follows me home!

  The Blob Monster made a final gulp. Then it opened its mouth in a disgusting, gassy burp.

  Sickened by the sour odor, I staggered back.

  I’ve got to think of something, I told myself. I’ve got to stop this monster.

  Or it will eat me next.

  The Blob Monster began to slide forward, plopping wetly on the sidewalk as it moved.

  I knew I couldn’t stand there another second. I spun away and forced my rubbery legs to run.

  I picked up my bike off the street and jumped on. I began pedaling before I had my balance — and nearly crashed into a brick wall.

  I struggled frantically to turn myself around, to calm down enough to ride. Finally, I pedaled away, groaning with each thrust of my foot.

  I sped out of town. Halfway down the next block, I glanced back.

  Yes. Just as I had written. The Blob Monster was following me. Bouncing rapidly over the pavement. The purple veins on top of its head bouncing with it. Behind it, a trail of slime thickened on the street.

  It’s so fast! I realized. It’s keeping up with me!

  What happens next? What did I type next?

  “Oh, no!” I shrieked when I remembered.

  This is the part where I fall off my bike!

  “AIIIII!” My front tire hit a rock — and I went flying over the handlebars.

  Once again, I hit the pavement hard. Once again, I shoved my bike off me and jumped to my feet.

  I turned to see the Blob Monster catching up. Plopping quickly up the street, its mouth gaping open, its tongue stretching … reaching out for me.

  I spun away — and ran into Alex and Adam.

  “Run! Don’t just stand there!” I screeched. “It — it’s catching up!”

  “Zackie — are you okay?” Alex asked.

  “No time for questions!” I gasped, shoving them both. “Run! The Blob Monster is real! I wrote it — and now it’s doing everything I wrote!”

  Adam laug
hed. He turned to the Blob Monster. “Do you think I’m stupid, Zackie? This is a joke — right? What is that? Some kind of a balloon?”

  “Adam — don’t!” I cried.

  I grabbed for him. And missed.

  He went running up to the Blob Monster.

  “Yeah. It’s some kind of big balloon!” Adam repeated, grinning.

  The monster’s purple tongue slid quickly around Adam’s waist.

  It pulled Adam easily into the open mouth. And then the Blob Monster swallowed him with a sickening gulp.

  Alex and I both screamed.

  Alex turned to me. “Did you write that?” she demanded in a trembling voice.

  I nodded. “Yes. It’s in my story,” I confessed.

  Alex grabbed my shoulder. “Well, what happens next? Tell me. What comes next?”

  “I — I don’t know,” I stammered. “That’s where I stopped writing!”

  Alex and I never ran so fast in our lives. By the time we reached my house, my head was throbbing and my side was aching.

  We both gasped for breath as I pushed open the front door. “Anyone home?” I shouted into the house. “Mom? Mom?”

  No reply. She must have gone out.

  I turned and glimpsed the Blob Monster bouncing hard over Alex’s front yard.

  “No time!” I cried to Alex. “No time! Hurry!”

  She slipped inside the house, and I slammed the door behind us and locked it. Then I lurched toward my room, holding my aching side, forcing my rubbery legs to move.

  I mopped the sweat off my forehead with my arm. Then I dropped into the desk chair and raised my hands over the typewriter keys.

  Alex hurried up beside me. “What are you going to do?” she asked breathlessly.

  “No time to explain,” I choked out.

  I heard a thumping at the front door. Then I heard a loud CRAAAACK.

  And I knew the huge pink Blob had broken down the door.

  “No time. No time!” I declared. I furiously started to type.

  “I’m typing an ending,” I told Alex. “I’m going to type that the Blob Monster disappears. That it never existed. That Adam and the two policemen are okay.”

  SQUISSSSH … SQUISSSSH.

  Alex and I both gasped. We heard the Blob Monster’s slimy body, so close now, moving quickly toward us through the hall.

  I knew I had only a few seconds to type the ending.

  SQUISSSSSH.

  Right outside my bedroom door.

  I held my breath and pounded the keys.

  Pounded as hard and fast as I could until —

  “NOOOOO!”

  “What’s wrong?” Alex shrieked.

  “The keys are jammed!”

  We both screamed again as the Blob Monster bounced into the room.

  The Blob Monster’s body heaved up and down. The creature panted, its entire body bouncing. White slime puddled on the floor around it.

  The slash of a mouth in the belly opened and closed, opened and closed. The purple tongue licked the mouth as the monster’s eyes narrowed on me.

  Alex gasped and backed up against the wall. “Zackie — type the ending!” she screamed breathlessly. “Make that thing disappear!”

  “I can’t!” I cried. I frantically pulled at the keys. “They’re jammed. I can’t untangle them!”

  “Zackie — please!” Alex pleaded.

  And then I saw the fat purple tongue leap.

  It rolled out of the Blob Monster’s open belly like a garden hose.

  “Noooooo!” I opened my mouth in a terrified wail as the tongue stretched across the room. Reached for me …

  Reached for me …

  No!

  The tongue wrapped around the typewriter. Lifted it easily.

  I grabbed for it with both hands.

  And missed.

  My hands slid across the tongue. So hot. Burning hot. And sticky.

  The tongue pulled back, snapped back like elastic. And carried the typewriter into the monster’s gaping mouth.

  As I stared in horror, the Blob Monster swallowed the typewriter with a single gulp.

  I leaped up from the desk chair. And stepped up beside Alex. We pressed our backs against the wall and watched helplessly as the Blob Monster throbbed and heaved. Digesting the typewriter.

  “We’re doomed,” Alex murmured. “The typewriter — it’s gone. Now there is no way you can destroy the monster.”

  “Wait!” I cried. “I have an idea!”

  I dove back to the desk. I searched the desktop.

  “What are you doing?” Alex cried.

  The Blob Monster let out sick gurgling sounds as it digested the typewriter. Its body heaved up and down in the puddle of slime it had left on the rug.

  “The pen,” I told Alex. “The pen —”

  I pulled open the desk drawer and saw the old pen in front. I grabbed it and slammed the drawer shut.

  I held it up to show Alex. “The old pen the woman gave me. Maybe it has the same powers as the typewriter. Maybe I can write an ending with the pen — and make the Blob Monster disappear!”

  “Hurry!” Alex warned.

  The Blob Monster had stopped its gurgling. The purple tongue came darting out again.

  I grabbed a sheet of paper and leaned over the desk. I pulled off the cap on the pen and lowered the point to the paper.

  “THE —”

  I wrote one word — and felt something hot and wet slap against the side of my face.

  The fat purple tongue slid against me.

  “Ow!” I cried out. And dropped the pen.

  My hand shot up to my cheek, and I felt hot, sticky slime.

  My stomach heaved.

  The tongue curled around the old pen. And carried it to the Blob Monster’s mouth.

  “Noooo!” Alex and I shrieked together.

  The creature sucked the pen into its open belly, and began its digesting gurgles.

  “Now what?” Alex asked in a whisper. “What can we do? It’s going to eat us next!”

  I jumped to my feet. The desk chair toppled over.

  I stepped away from it, my eyes on the doorway. “Make a run for it!” I cried.

  Alex held back. “We can’t,” she sighed. “That thing — it’s blocking the way. We’ll never get past it.”

  She was right. The Blob Monster would stick out its tongue and pull us easily into its drooling mouth.

  “Try the window!” I cried desperately.

  We both turned to the window.

  No way. It was bolted shut because of the air conditioner.

  “Doomed,” Alex whispered. “Doomed.”

  We both turned back to the throbbing, pink monster.

  And then I had one more idea.

  “Alex — remember when Adam typed something on my story? And it didn’t come true?”

  She nodded, keeping her eyes on the gurgling Blob Monster. “Yes, I remember. But so what?”

  “Well,” I continued, “Maybe that’s because it’s me that has the power. Maybe the power isn’t in the typewriter or the pen. Maybe I got the power that night in that antique shop when I was zapped by that electrical shock.”

  Alex swallowed hard. “Maybe …”

  “Maybe it’s been in me the whole time!” I cried excitedly. “All I have to do is think what I want to happen — and it will come true. I don’t have to type it or write it. I just have to think it!”

  “Maybe …” Alex repeated.

  She started to say something else. But the Blob suddenly bounced forward, squishing over the rug. And its tongue rolled out toward us.

  “Ohhhh …” Alex backed up against the wall.

  The fat tongue licked her arm. It left a thick smear of sticky drool on her skin.

  “Think fast, Zackie!” Alex cried.

  The tongue curled and started to wrap itself around Alex.

  “Make it disappear!” Alex pleaded. “Think! Think it away!”

  I froze in horror as the fat tongue wrapped around
Alex. It lifted her off the floor.

  Screaming, she thrashed her arms and kicked. Squirming frantically, she wrapped her hands around the sticky tongue — and shoved with all her strength.

  But the disgusting tongue squeezed tighter, held her in its slimy grip.

  I shut my eyes.

  Think! I instructed myself. Think hard!

  Think that the Blob Monster is gone.

  Gone … gone … gone.

  I held my breath. And thought with all my might.

  Would it work?

  The monster is gone.

  That’s what I thought.

  The monster is gone … gone … gone …

  I silently chanted the word, over and over. Then I opened my eyes.

  And the Blob Monster was gone!

  Alex stood in the center of the floor, a dazed expression on her face. “It … it worked,” she choked out.

  I do have the power! I realized.

  I closed my eyes again and started to think. Adam is back, I thought.

  Adam is back …

  I opened my eyes — and Adam stood beside Alex.

  He blinked several times, then squinted at me. “What’s happening?” he asked.

  “I have it!” I cried happily. “I have the power — not the typewriter!”

  “What are you talking about?” Adam demanded. “What power?”

  I shook my head. “You wouldn’t understand,” I told him.

  Alex started to laugh.

  Before I realized it, I was laughing, too.

  Joyful laughter. Relieved laughter.

  All three of us stood there, laughing, laughing, laughing — laughing happily ever after.

  “Well? Did you like my story?”

  The pink Blob Monster neatened the pages he had just read and set them down on the desk. He turned to his friend, a green-skinned Blob Monster.

  “Did you just write that?” the green monster asked.

  The pink Blob Monster gurgled with pride. “Yes. Did you enjoy it?”

  “I did,” his friend replied. “Thank you for reading it to me. It’s very exciting. Very well written. What do you call it?”

  “I call it ‘Attack of the Humans,’ ” the Blob Monster replied. “Did you really like it?”

  “Yes. Those humans are really gross,” his friend replied. “Do you know my favorite part?”