by R. L. Stine
You try running even faster, but you slip on the slimy slugs. You fall.
“Yahhhh!” It’s like landing in a red-hot frying pan. The slug slime coats your skin, burning it away. You, Patty, and Floyd scream for help. But no one comes to the tunnel.
Oh, well. Better luck next slime!
THE END
No way is Patty bossing you into that killer game. “Forget it,” you tell her. “We need a game we can win! Come on.”
Patty and Floyd follow you down the midway. You spot a booth decorated with blinking dollar signs. A big computer screen flashes different sayings:
YOU BET YOUR LIFE!
NOTHING VENTURED, NOTHING GAINED!
DOUBLE YOUR MONEY, DOUBLE YOUR FUN!
The little man running the game wears a derby hat and a vest with big gold moneybags on it. He hops around, waving dollar bills.
“I’m Big Buck, test your luck!” he cries.
“How do you play this game?” you ask.
“Easy,” the man tells you. “All you have to do is answer that question.” He jerks his thumb at the computer screen. It now reads:
ARE 1997 DOLLAR BILLS WORTH MORE THAN 1902 DOLLAR BILLS?
“Huh?” you say. “A dollar is a dollar!”
Floyd digs his elbow into your side.
“Play the game,” he murmurs. “You can beat this guy.”
Why is Floyd so certain? Find out on PAGE 96.
“You are lucky!” a voice shouts.
“You win a prize!” someone else in the crowd cries.
You smile at the game operator, who only scowls back at you. But before you can say anything, you hear a loud, staticky voice shouting over the crowd:
“MAKE-WAY, MAKE-WAY!”
The mob parts, and a strange robot pushes through. Its legs seem almost like human limbs, except that they’re made of metal. But the robot has no arms or head. And its body is a big electronic screen. It looks like a walking signboard!
“What’s this?” Floyd asks.
“I-AM-YOUR-PRIZE,” the robot’s voice bleeps.
Patty snorts. “It looks like a giant digital clock,” she comments.
“Can you give the time?” you ask the robot. This thing could make a great talking alarm clock!
“PREPARING —” The screen flashes brilliantly several times.
Get the message on PAGE 106.
You wait as Floyd hits more buttons.
Just as the doorknob turns, Floyd jumps up. “Okay. Now!”
You all leap for the glowing Space/Time Door hanging in the air. You tumble through, and land in … Big Al’s office!
You peer around. Big Al isn’t here. Whew!
“That didn’t get us very far,” you grumble.
Floyd darts back to the desk, pointing at a screen. “Far enough. We’ve gone back a month in time!”
He’s right! There’s the date on the screen right in front of you. The screen is set up like a calendar, with all kinds of “To Do” lists. Scrolling ahead, you come to the day you went — or will go — to the carnival. Between “Do Laundry” and “Start Diet” is the entry “Get —” Hey! That’s your name there!
Running back through the computer calendar, you see all of Big Al’s plans to take the Carnival of Horrors to Floyd’s hometown. “Can you erase all this?” you ask.
“Even better,” Floyd assures you. “I can fiddle with these plans so the carnival goes anywhere we want.”
A smile creeps across your face. “How about Antarctica?”
Floyd hits some keys. “Done!” he announces.
FWOOOMP! Everything goes black!
Turn to PAGE 74.
The Log Zoom is nearby. Maybe it will be the way out.
Or maybe not.
The three of you hurry to the ride entrance. It’s decorated to look like a lumber camp. A three-foot-tall man dressed as a lumberjack gives you a big smile. “Wooden you like a ride?” he asks.
“Boy, you’re a real cut-up,” you joke back.
“Cut-up? Cut-up? Hoo! Hoo! Hoo! I like your sense of humor, kid!” The little lumberjack slaps his knee. “Hop in!” He waves at the nearest log-boat.
You, Patty, and Floyd scramble into the boat. Floyd almost tips over the boat climbing in. Finally, all three of you are settled. You strap yourselves in.
You also check to see where the life preservers are stored. After all, this is the Carnival of Horrors!
You grope around under your seat and feel a life preserver there.
“This might be fun,” you say to Patty and Floyd.
Your log starts bobbing as a fresh rush of water fills the ready area.
Here you go! Down the waterfall!
Zoom over to PAGE 66.
“Whoa,” you murmur. “Losing is serious business here.”
Then man running the racing booth smiles at you. You stare at his green skin and big, bulging eyes. He looks like a frog.
“Ready for some smooth moves?” he croaks. “Want to put the pedal to the metal? Do you have the drive to play this game?”
“I don’t know,” you answer. “If I lose, one of those blue tornadoes comes and gets me.” You shudder, thinking about the old woman.
“No way!” the froggy man promises. “You have my word.”
“Well …” You’re not sure. You glance at Patty and Floyd. They’re depending on you to escape from the carnival. And to do that, you have to keep playing games. “What do you think, guys?”
“Go for it,” Patty advises.
That’s Patty, all the way — she’s up for anything.
But Floyd shakes his head. “Don’t do it. I’ve played that road-race game. It’s very, very hard to win.”
Who will you listen to? Floyd or Patty?
If you do what Patty suggests, turn to PAGE 44.
If you take Floyd’s advice, turn to PAGE 89.
You can’t wait a moment longer! Big Al is almost here!
Grabbing Floyd by the shirt, you haul him out from behind the desk. You also seize Patty’s hand. “Come on!” you yell, pulling them toward the glowing rectangle.
You twist the doorknob and shove Patty and Floyd through the Space/Time Door. Then you step through yourself.
You stumble on hard-packed dirt. Glaring lights dazzle your eyes. Loud music blares in your ears.
You blink, look around, and realize where you are. There’s the Roller Ghoster, and the midway and, in the distance, the Hall of the Mountain King.
Then you glance at your watch.
“Oh, no!” you groan.
You’re still in the Carnival of Horrors — you’ve just gone back to earlier in the evening!
“I knew I didn’t have those coordinates fixed quite right,” Floyd wails.
You stare wildly around. “Come on!” you order again. “We have to get out of here!”
You’ve gone back in time. All the way back to PAGE 59.
You twist the wheel to the right. With a shriek of wheels on rails, the Roller Ghoster lurches — and makes the turn!
You shudder at the grisly face hanging in front of you. “You won’t stop me!” you shout.
The dead face continues to float in front of you. You glare at it. You won.
So why is the ghost smiling?
With a series of jerks, the Roller Ghoster slows down.
“We must be coming to the pit stop,” you tell Patty and Floyd. “The moment we stop, get ready to jump out.”
You’re barely chugging along. The ghost’s face is still laughing into yours, so you can’t see what’s ahead.
But Patty and Floyd can.
“Look out!” they scream.
“The tracks just end!” Patty shrieks.
The Roller Ghoster stops just as the first car — your car — goes over the edge!
Drop down to PAGE 87.
You gaze up at your cousin. “How do you know we can win?” you demand.
“I collect coins,” Floyd explains. He bobs up and down with excitement. “Money from
1902 is worth a lot more than modern money.”
You watch Big Buck stacking up two big bundles of money. “I don’t know,” you murmur. “He looks really confident to me.” You wonder if there is some kind of trick to the question.
“Trust me!” Floyd sounds totally sure. “I have all these books about money at home. Old paper money is very rare. And anything rare is more valuable. Go on, bet him! Tell him that 1902 dollar bills are worth much more. You’ll win.”
Your cousin’s advice sounds good.
But is he right? Will you win your next game?
If you think Floyd is right, turn to PAGE 56.
If you think Floyd is wrong, turn to PAGE 13.
“I’m going to try it!” you shout, leaping out the escape hatch. You bend your knees and hold out your arms for balance. “Wee-hah!” you whoop. Fake lizard scales zoom beneath your feet. It’s like the world’s coolest, scariest skateboard run!
Swooping to the end of the dinosaur’s tail, you zip over the fence surrounding the Carnival of Horrors.
“HAHAHA!” you laugh in delight. “We did it! We escaped!”
You thump to the ground. A second later there’s another thump, then a “WHOOOOOA!” and a crash from Cousin Floyd.
At first, you can’t see your friends. A heavy fog steams up from the ground. The air feels a lot warmer than when you arrived at the carnival.
You find Patty, and then Floyd. He’s examining a bush and seems very excited. “This is an amazing scientific find!” he cries. “Everyone thinks this plant has been extinct for millions of years.”
Before you can answer, the earth starts to tremble. You hear the sound of huge, heavy, stomping feet.
And they’re heading your way!
Turn to PAGE 109!
“Do you hear a —” you start to ask. But your question is drowned out as the noise turns into an ear-jangling snarl.
Your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. You begin to make out something up ahead.
Oh, no! A huge buzz saw hangs in the middle of the shed!
And the awful noise is the sound it makes as it carves its way through the empty log-boat ahead of you!
“We’ve got to get out of here!” you cry.
Which is the best way!
Should you hop out of the boat immediately?
Or should you try to stop the boat before it reaches the buzz saw?
If you jump out of the boat now, turn to PAGE 41.
If you try to stop the boat, turn to PAGE 32.
Before you can answer him, Big Al vanishes in a puff of smoke.
“Th-this is for real!” Floyd gulps. “What do we do?”
“Start playing games,” Patty cries. “We only have until midnight!”
“But which games?” you demand. You gaze around.
The booths nearest you have old-fashioned games like a ringtoss and a mechanical claw. “Forget about the ringtoss,” you tell your friends. “Those games are always rigged.”
You step up to the mechanical claw game. A big plastic claw dangles over a heap of tiny toy people. You recognize this game. If you can fish out one of the toy people with the claw, you get to keep it as your prize.
“Those toys,” Patty marvels. “They look so — so real.”
You shake your head. “We shouldn’t try this one, either. No one ever wins this game.”
“Maybe somebody here could tell us what to do,” Floyd suggests, waving a hand at the weird, pale carnival people.
Start playing games on PAGE 54.
Ask for advice on PAGE 114.
“Route One!” you cry triumphantly. “It even spells a message. ‘An Easy Way Out Is Good.’ ”
The man behind the counter laughs nastily. “An easy way out is good — for us! But it’s not the shortest way out!”
He presses a button, and the maze vanishes from the computer screen. A picture of a giant pair of warty lips appears. They pucker up, as if they’re going to whistle. But, no! Instead they suck in a steady stream of air.
A powerful wind pulls at you. It gets stronger and stronger. You feel as if you’re caught in a hurricane.
“Help!” you cry to your friends. But your voice is drowned out by the howling gale. You grab on to the counter of the booth as you’re pulled off your feet.
SWOOSH!
You’re sucked into the screen!
Turn to PAGE 84.
“Whoa!” you gasp. You’re so astonished, you drop the lantern.
You bend over, staring at the runaway hot dog. “Yowch!” you cry. You feel a sharp pain just below the hem of your shorts. You peer down.
One end of a hot dog sticks to your leg. Its body waves wildly. You reach down and yank it off.
It leaves a bite mark the size of a dime on your leg!
Holding up the attack-wiener, you see that it has a little mouth — and hundreds and hundreds of little teeth.
The mouth opens. It doesn’t say “Yip!”
It says, “Yum!”
Turn to PAGE 83.
Big Al grins at you. “Lucky Day is one of my favorites,” he booms. “That’s because the guy who runs it is one of my favorite helpers.” He pushes you, Patty, and Floyd up to the booth. “Meet Horrible Hairy Harry!”
Horrible Hairy Harry certainly lives up to his name. He looks like a cross between a gorilla and a troll. All he wears is a pair of Bermuda shorts. The rest of him — even his face — is covered with thick brown greasy-looking hair.
And he’s nine feet tall!
Yikes!
You wonder whether there’s still time to change your mind. “Uh, I —” you begin, turning to Big Al.
But there’s no sign of the carnival manager. He’s gone!
Instead, a crowd of the creepy carnival people closes in behind you.
“Play! Play!” the crowd chants.
Big white teeth appear in the fur on Horrible Hairy Harry’s face. You figure that’s a smile.
“Is today your Lucky Day?” he growls.
Listen carefully to the rules on PAGE 112.
The little flashlight flickers out. You grope around and grab the knob on the door that’s marked WAY OUT. “We haven’t had much luck on the rides,” you declare. “I’ll give this a try.”
You twist the knob and heave the door open.
Uh-oh. It’s just as dark on the other side. And Patty’s flashlight is all used up!
You take a tiny step forward. A strange force whirls you right through the doorway!
You shiver in the freezing cold surrounding you. You’re floating in darkness, surrounded by diamond-bright pinpoints of light that look like stars.
In fact — they are stars!
And isn’t that a meteor whizzing by? And off in the distance — gulp — Earth!
The door was a way out of the Carnival of Horrors, all right. Way, way out — to the ends of the solar system. And way out of this adventure!
THE END
With the lights in your eyes, you can barely make out the spectators in their seats. They look more or less human. Some seem to have too many arms or an extra head. But they’re all clapping.
“Hu-mans, hu-mans, they’re okay! Hu-mans, hu-mans, hip-hooray!” half the crowd cheers.
The other half yells, “Go, squid!”
“At least some of them are on our side,” Floyd offers hopefully.
The unseen announcer keeps talking. “Taken together, the challengers weigh in at around two hundred twenty-five pounds. They have chosen the small size of opponent.”
So the guy in the boat listened to your request. You’re up against the small squid.
This doesn’t sound so bad.
Does it?
Go to PAGE 33.
The signboard robot clanks over to stand by Big Al.
“What are we going to do?” Patty asks, gazing at the photo in terror.
“Simple,” you answer in a low voice. “We make sure Big Al doesn’t play against you.” Then you call to the carnival manager, “I’m read
y for the final challenge!”
“Fine,” Big Al replies. “I’ll just pick the game —”
“Why should you?” you interrupt. “I think I should choose.”
“Oh, no,” the carnival manager disagrees. “According to the rules on your ticket …”
“What ticket?” you demand. “I never got a ticket.”
“No?” Big Al cries, shocked. “Quick! Print them a ticket, Igor.”
The signboard robot clicks and whirrs. A ticket large enough to be a poster pops out of its top.
“According to clause three of paragraph eight,” Big Al begins.
You grab for the gigantic ticket. “Let me see — YOWTCH!”
The ticket flies from your hand as you dance around in agony. The edges on that ticket are as sharp as razor blades!
Floyd reaches to catch the fluttering cardboard.
“DON’T!” you yell.
Turn to PAGE 7.
A series of numbers appears on the robot’s body. They look like this:
01:00:00:03
01:00:00:02
01:00:00:01
01:00:00:00
00:59:59:59
The number in the far-right column reels down incredibly quickly.
You stare at the weird numbers, trying to make sense of them.
Floyd points at the robot’s screen. “Those must be the hours,” he says, indicating the numbers in the left-hand column.
“So the next ones are the minutes,” you say, catching on. “And the ones after that are seconds, and then fractions of a second.”
Patty lets out a low whistle. “That’s exact!”
“Yeah, but it still doesn’t tell us the time, exactly,” you argue. You watch numbers fly by in the seconds column on the display. “What kind of clock is this?” you ask.
Don’t waste time! Turn to PAGE 37.
