Thrills and Chills

by R. L. Stine

  I turned and saw him running full speed down the street. Yes, he did have the biggest bootus in town. And he was carrying a big can of spray paint as he ran.

  “Stop right there!” Jonny boomed. “You won’t be painting any naughty words tonight, Big Bootus! Not on my watch!”

  Big Bootus tossed his head back and laughed. “Jonny, your deep voice may thrill a lot of people, including me. But I’ve come to paint! And I’ll bet my big bootus you can’t catch me in time!”

  The race was on.

  “GRRRRR.” Jonny let out an angry growl. Or maybe he had indigestion.

  Then he shouted his famous battle cry. “YODEL-AY-EEE-OOOO!”

  He lowered his shoulder like a football running back and took off after our criminal.

  Big Bootus’s boots thudded the street as he rocketed toward the bank.

  He tossed his head back and laughed again. “I live to spray-paint naughty words!” he cried.

  I watched them run down the middle of the street. “You’re catching up, Jonny!” I shouted. “You’re gonna get him!”

  But then I saw Jonny’s pants start to slip.

  Jonny made a grab for them—but he was too late.

  His Pants of Steel dropped down around his knees. Then he tripped over them, staggered, and fell face down on the pavement. When Jonny sat up, he had tar stuck to his teeth. “If only I had those steel suspenders,” he said with remorse.

  We watched as Big Bootus ran up to the side of the bank. He raised his paint can and, giggling at the top of his voice, turned to us. “You lose!” he shouted. “Get ready for a totally naughty word!”

  He pressed the nozzle of the spray paint can and aimed it at the wall. And in big, ragged letters he spelled out:

  NERTS

  I turned to Jonny and whispered, “Nerts? What’s nerts?”

  But Jonny was too angry and disappointed to hear me.

  “I’ll get you next time, Big Bootus!” he yelled through his sticky, tar-covered teeth. “Or my name isn’t Jonny Pantsfalldown!”

  That’s our thrilling adventure for today, boys and girls. Until next time, this is the Mighty Hairball saying: “Keep your pants up—and reach for the stars!”

  EIGHT

  Hi, I’m Babbling Brooke. Back to our story.

  We all sprawled around the living room as the exciting Jonny Pantsfalldown episode came to an end. Cranky Frankie shook his head. “I knew that would happen,” he said. “I knew his pants would fall down.”

  “They fall down in every episode,” Junkfood John told him.

  “I’ve seen this episode ten times,” Wacky Jackie said. “And his pants fall down every time.”

  “Maybe he should get smaller pants,” Handy Sandy said.

  “He can’t,” Jackie told her. “His pants are made of steel. They are one-size-fits-all.”

  “Guess what I did?” Junkfood John said. “I joined the Big Bootus Fan Club!”

  “You’ve been in the Big Bootus club a long time!” Cranky Frankie joked.

  Junkfood John looked confused. “What does he mean by that?”

  Adam Bomb turned to Brainy Janey. “What do you think Jonny Pantsfalldown should do to solve his problem?” he asked her.

  Janey shrugged. “Beats me.”

  A hush fell over the room. We all suddenly remembered we were waiting for the doctor to come and examine Janey.

  Junkfood John raised the plastic bag he’d been munching from. “Anybody like to try this awesome new snack food?”

  “What is it?” Wacky Jackie asked.

  John checked the front of the bag. “They’re called Cactus Needles,” he said. “Very chewy.”

  He had needles sticking out from between his teeth. No one took him up on his offer.

  “Hey, look what I found,” I said, holding up my phone. “It’s some kind of IQ test, I think. It’s called ‘Test Your Smarts.’”

  “Janey, do you want to try it?” Adam Bomb asked.

  Janey sighed. “It’s probably too easy for me,” she murmured.

  “Let’s see how you do,” I said. I read question number one: “What is heavier? A one-ton bag of feathers or a two-ton bag of feathers?”

  Janey rubbed her chin and thought about it. We all leaned forward, waiting for her to answer.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “Can you go to the next question?”

  I squinted at my phone and read the next question. “Which has more feathers—a duck or a plucked duck?”

  Janey shook her head. “I pass,” she said. “Next question.”

  “Okay,” I said. “If a tuna swam three miles and a salmon swam five miles, how many miles did they swim altogether?”

  Janey squinted up her face. “Were they really swimming together?” she asked.

  We all groaned.

  Something was definitely wrong with our brainiac friend.

  “I know I’ll get the next one,” she said. “Brooke, ask me another question.”

  I read the next question: “If a train leaves the station at ten in the morning, what time is it?”

  Janey rubbed her chin again. I could see she was thinking hard.

  But the doorbell rang before she could answer.

  Luckily, the doctor was here!

  NINE

  I opened the door and an older man in a plaid suit was standing there. He had wavy gray hair and a short beard and mustache. Behind his square-shaped eyeglasses, he had twinkly blue eyes.

  He carried a black medical briefcase at his side—the kind you see in old movies.

  “Did you call for a doctor?” he asked. He had a young voice for an older man. “I’m Dr. Nerse,” he said.

  “No, we didn’t call for a nurse,” I said.

  “My nurse is away,” he replied. “She’s on vacation in the jungle.”

  “Why did she go to the jungle?” I asked.

  “She has a pet monkey,” he said, “and the monkey wanted to see where he grew up.”

  “Well . . . we need a doctor,” I said.

  He nodded his head. “I’m Dr. Nerse.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’ll have to make up your mind,” I told him. “Are you a doctor or a nurse?”

  “Yes, I am,” he said.

  Adam Bomb stepped up behind me. Adam studied the man in the doorway. “Brooke, what’s taking so long?”

  “He says he’s Dr. Nurse,” I said.

  Adam squinted at the man. “Are you a doctor or a nurse?”

  “Yes, I am,” he replied again. He shifted his doctor bag from one hand to the other. “Do you have patients for me?”

  “No, I don’t have any patience,” Adam said. “I’m pretty hot-headed. I don’t have patience for much of anything. Sometimes, I totally explode.”

  “But do you have any patients in the house? Is there a sick person here?”

  Adam nodded. “Yes. We need someone to check Brainy Janey. Her brain stopped working and we’re very worried.”

  “Well, I’m Dr. Nerse,” the man said. “Let’s take a look at her.”

  He followed Adam and me into the living room and set down his black bag. “That’s Janey,” I said, pointing to her. She was sitting tensely in the big red armchair in the corner.

  Dr. Nerse crossed the room to her. “Hello, Janey,” he said. “I’m Dr. Nerse.”

  “I’m Janey,” she said quietly.

  “Awwwk. Ptooey!” the parrot chimed in from his perch. “If you’re a doctor, I’m a blue-nosed penguin!”

  The doctor ignored him. “What is Janey’s problem?” he asked.

  “It’s her brain,” Adam answered. “It stopped working.”

  “Well, let’s take a look at you,” Dr. Nerse said to Janey. “Do me a favor. Stick out your right hand.”

  Janey blinked. “My hand?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “Stick out your right hand.”

  Janey stuck out her right hand.

  The doctor pulled a big wad of chewing gum from his mouth and pushed it into her palm. “Thank
s,” he said. “I needed to get rid of that. It lost its flavor.”

  “Can I have it?” Junkfood John asked.

  Janey ignored him. But the doctor turned to look.

  “It can’t hurt to ask, right?” John said and shrugged.

  The doctor ignored him. He opened his medical bag and pulled something from it. Then he turned back to Janey. “Open your mouth, please.”

  Janey squinted at him. “My mouth?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Open wide.”

  Janey opened her mouth, and the doctor placed a cube of sugar onto her tongue.

  Adam Bomb stepped up to Dr. Nerse. “Why did you do that?” he asked.

  The doctor smiled. “Well, I usually work with horses, and sugar calms them down.”

  “Are you going to examine Janey’s brain?” Adam asked.

  “Yes, of course,” he answered. “I Googled the brain before I came over here, so I know what I’m doing.”

  The doctor leaned toward Janey, but Junkfood John stepped between them. “Doc, I need you to look at my mouth,” he said. “It’s hurting a lot!”

  John opened his mouth wide and shoved his face up close to the doctor.

  Dr. Nerse pulled down John’s lower lip and gazed intently into John’s mouth. “Hmmmmm,” he murmured. “Hmmmm.”

  “Why does my mouth hurt?” John asked in a trembling voice.

  “It looks like you’ve been eating cactus needles,” Dr. Nerse said.

  “Yes!” John cried. “Yes! That’s it! This doctor is awesome! Brilliant!” He turned back to Dr. Nerse. “What is the cure?” he asked.

  “Don’t eat cactus needles.”

  “Brilliant!” John cried. “This man is a genius!”

  “John, back off and let the doctor examine Janey,” Adam Bomb said.

  But Rob Slob moved in front of Dr. Nerse. “Doc, would you look at my feet? I don’t know why, but I counted my toes this morning and I have fourteen.”

  The doctor let out a gasp. “You counted fourteen? Let me have a look.” He bent down on his knees to examine Rob’s bare feet.

  Dr. Nerse gazed up at Rob. “Have you washed your feet lately?”

  Rob nodded. “Yeah. I had a bath last year. Or . . . was it the year before?”

  “Well . . .” The doctor frowned and shook his head. “You don’t have fourteen toes. You only have ten toes. But you have worms living on your feet.”

  “Oh, thank goodness!” Rob Slob cried. “I thought I had a problem!”

  TEN

  “Everyone stand back and let the doctor examine Janey,” Adam Bomb said.

  But Wacky Jackie pushed up to the doctor and shoved her arm into his face. “Doctor Nerse, can you tell me what this bump is on my arm?” she asked.

  The doctor lifted her arm closer. “This bump? It’s called an elbow,” he said.

  Jackie repeated the word. “El-bow? Can you do anything about it? Will it go away?”

  “I don’t think so,” Dr. Nerse replied. “I think you’ll have it your whole life.”

  Jackie sighed and shook her head. “My whole life,” she muttered. “Wow.”

  Luke Puke had been sitting quietly in the corner. Now, he pushed Jackie aside and stuck his face up to the doctor’s. “My name is Luke Puke,” he announced. “Can you tell me why I always feel like I have to vomit?”

  Dr. Nerse thought for a while. “Perhaps it’s your name,” he said finally. “Did you ever think of changing it?”

  Luke nodded. “Yeah. A while ago I thought of changing it to Barry Barf. But it didn’t seem to help.”

  “Please step back, everyone,” Adam Bomb pleaded. “I know you are all unwell, but Janey—”

  “Just one more thing,” I said. “Before the doctor examines Janey, I want to do a cheer for her.”

  “Brooke, please—” Adam started.

  But I shoved him aside. “I’ve been practicing this cheer I made up for Janey, and I want to do it for her now,” I said.

  They all know I’m an awesome cheerleader, and I write amazing cheers. And I knew I could cheer Janey up before her exam.

  So I jumped in the air, clapped my hands, and began my cheer.

  “GO, JANEY! YOU’RE BRAINY!

  “WHEN IT’S SUNNY, AND WHEN IT’S RAINY!

  “DUH DO DO DUH DUH . . .

  “DUH DUH DO DO DO!”

  I did a perfect somersault and landed on my head. Then I staggered to my feet. It took a little while for the dizziness to go away. “Janey, did you love it?” I cried.

  “What are all those duh duh do dos at the end?” Cranky Frankie asked.

  “Well, I haven’t finished it yet,” I explained. “It takes time to write a good cheer.”

  I turned to Janey. “Did you like it?”

  “Maybe,” she said. She shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  “I liked it,” Dr. Nerse said. “It was very peppy. But do you always land on your head like that?”

  “Usually,” I said.

  He frowned. “Maybe I’d better examine your brain!”

  The doctor turned to Janey. She sat up straight and stiff. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair.

  The doctor leaned close to her. “Do me a favor, Janey,” he said. “Take several deep breaths and then blow the air out really hard.”

  Janey sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. Then another deep breath, which she blew out. Then another. She blew the air out of her mouth as hard as she could.

  Dr. Nerse smiled and backed up a step.

  “Why did you have Janey do that, Doctor?” I asked.

  “It’s hot in here,” he said, “and I needed a little breeze.”

  “Awwwwk. Ptooey!” the parrot squawked from across the room. “If he’s a doctor, I’m a duck!”

  “Are you a real doctor?” Cranky Frankie asked.

  “Of course I’m a doctor,” Dr. Nerse replied. “If I wasn’t a doctor, would I have a doctor bag?” He held up his black briefcase.

  He moved behind Janey and pressed his hands against her temples. “Hmmm . . . your mandingles are firm,” he said. “That’s a good sign.”

  He stood up and rubbed the little gray beard on his chin. “I need to study Janey’s brain,” he said. “So I have to take a brain sample.” He gazed around the room. “Does anyone have a teaspoon?”

  ELEVEN

  A teaspoon?

  No one answered.

  “A drinking straw will do, too,” the doctor said. “I can go right up her nose and suck the brain sample down.”

  I gazed around the room. My friends were standing with their mouths hanging open, their eyes bulging. I think we all knew that we had a major problem with Dr. Nerse.

  Before anyone could say anything, the floor started to shake. We heard thudding booms, like someone pounding a bass drum.

  “Earthquake!” Dr. Nerse cried. “The house is shaking!”

  I grabbed the side of the couch to keep from falling. Then I turned and realized it wasn’t an earthquake. It was an enormous hippo thundering toward us.

  Rob Slob Junior was back in the house.

  We all screamed in surprise. Dr. Nerse shrieked in horror, and his beard practically flew off his face.

  The big hippo didn’t seem to like the doctor. Rob Slob Junior kept moving his enormous hippo jaws up and down as he charged. The hippo grabbed the doctor’s bag and chewed it noisily.

  Dr. Nerse screamed, “I’ll send my bill in the morning!”

  Then he took off, running. He burst out of the front door and scampered down the front lawn, with Rob Slob Junior galloping after him.

  We all watched through the front window as our new housekeeper chewed a bite off the doctor’s back bumper before his car could squeal away.

  I heard laughter behind me. When I spun around, I saw Janey laughing her head off. She slapped the arms of the chair and laughed and laughed.

  I ran over to her. “Janey, are you okay?” I said.

  She wiped tears from her eyes. “That’s just what I needed!�
� she exclaimed. “A good laugh!”

  “You feel better?” Adam Bomb asked.

  She nodded. “I feel fine. That hippo helped clear my head. I feel awesomely smart again.”

  Everyone cheered.

  I saw that Nervous Rex was trembling. “What’s the matter?” I asked him.

  “Hippos make me n-nervous,” he said.

  “All animals bigger than a flea make you nervous,” Cranky Frankie told him.

  “Fleas make me nervous, too,” Rex said. “What if a flea flies up my n-nose? What am I supposed to do about that?”

  “We’re not talking about fleas,” Wacky Jackie said. “We’re talking about hippos. Hippos won’t fly up your nose.”

  “That hippo changed my life,” Janey gushed. “I feel great now.”

  Handy Sandy squinted hard at Brainy Janey. “We have to test you,” she said. “We have to make sure you’re a brainiac again.”

  “Okay,” Janey replied. “Ask me a question.”

  “Try this one,” Sandy said. “Name the top seven mineral elements.”

  “No problem,” said Janey. “There’s iron . . . zinc . . . calcimum . . . plotassliam . . . stodium . . . mangalese . . . and pekinese.”

  “That sounds about right,” I said. “Janey is definitely back.”

  We all cheered again.

  “Okay, problem solved,” Adam Bomb said, stepping to the center of the room. He gazed down at Pooper, who had slept through all the excitement.

  “Now we have to talk about another problem,” Adam said. “How are we going to win the Smellville Pet Show?”

  TWELVE

  Adam Bomb here again, continuing the story.

  Junkfood John stepped in from the kitchen, wiping grease off his chin with the front of his T-shirt. He burped, and then his eyes bulged and he started to cough.

  Sputtering and choking, he pulled a feather from his mouth. Then he coughed up another feather. And another.

  I rushed over to him. “John, what’s wrong?” I asked.

  He spit out a few more feathers. “It’s . . . it’s the chicken I just ate,” he stammered.

  I rolled my eyes. “John, you’re supposed to pull the feathers off before you cook the chicken,” I said.