Weirdo Halloween

by R. L. Stine

  “You may not believe in ghosts,” Carlos said. “But Kelly does — because the headless ghost lives in her basement.”

  Kelly laughed, breaking the silence.

  “Kelly always laughs to cover up the truth,” Carlos whispered. “She doesn’t want anyone to know of the hideous ghost that haunts her house. She doesn’t want anyone to know why she removed the ghost’s head. She’ll never tell where she hid that ugly head.”

  “Carlos, it’s on your neck!” someone shouted.

  Everyone laughed.

  “It’s easy to make jokes,” Carlos whispered. “When you’re afraid. And we all have a reason to be afraid. Because if you listen carefully … No one make a sound. Just listen. And you will hear the headless ghost coming up the basement stairs. You will hear the creak of its footsteps. Listen …”

  The room grew silent again. No one moved. We were all listening.

  I felt a chill at the back of my neck.

  I screamed when a deafening crash shattered the silence.

  Sharp pieces of glass shot over the room. Other kids screamed. Some dove to the floor.

  A rush of freezing wind blew over us. Blew out all the candles.

  Darkness now — and the clatter of glass — and the steady rush of wind.

  I stumbled up from the couch arm where I’d been sitting. I staggered a few steps in the darkness.

  Kids were shouting and crying out startled questions:

  “What happened?”

  “What crashed?”

  “Did something blow up?”

  “Was that broken glass?”

  For a brief second, I thought of Carlos’s headless ghost. He told us to listen for it — and then …

  A crazy thought.

  Someone clicked the ceiling lights back on. I gazed around. Everyone looked so stunned, so confused. Kids climbed to their feet, shaking their heads.

  “It’s the window!” Kelly yelled.

  I turned. Yes. The living room window had been shattered. I saw a big jagged hole in the center with cracks zigzagging over the rest of the pane.

  Kelly started for the window, then stopped. She knelt down beside a brown package on the carpet in front of the broken window.

  “Hey — did someone toss this through the window?” she said.

  Crunching over broken glass, kids gathered around the package.

  “What is it?” I cried. “Kelly — be careful! Don’t open it.”

  I hurried up beside her. My warning was too late.

  She was already tearing it open.

  “Who would do this?” she cried. Her hands were trembling as she ripped at the package. “Who would heave something through my living room window?”

  She tore off the lid — and whooooosh!

  I felt a blast of hot air against my face.

  I raised my hands to shield myself. I stumbled back a few steps into Carlos. He caught me and stood me up straight.

  And then the horrible odor invaded my nose.

  “Ohhhhhh.” I let out a sickened moan.

  I saw other kids’ eyes go wide. Their mouths twisted in disgust.

  And Kelly shrieked at the top of her lungs:

  “Oh, help! Help! What’s that disgusting smell?”

  I tried to hold my breath. But it was too late. The sour smell was already in my nose and mouth.

  I squeezed two fingers over my nose. My stomach lurched. I struggled to keep the pizza down.

  The room rang with the sick moans and cries of all the kids. Still holding my breath, I spun around and searched for my brother. But my eyes began pouring out tears. I could barely see.

  Finally, I found Chris, bending over the couch, struggling not to puke.

  My stomach heaved again. I couldn’t help it. I had to take a breath. And I got another sharp mouthful of the bitter, disgusting odor.

  I started to gag. I stumbled toward Chris at the couch. And bumped hard into Melody.

  She struggled to pull off her mushroom costume. She was choking and gagging, stumbling toward the front door.

  I heard the door crash against the wall as it was pulled open. Kids were running out of the house, moaning and retching. The living room carpet was littered with costumes and masks.

  In one corner, I saw Bubba, Kelly’s dog, with his head lowered, tail between his legs. His whole body was shuddering.

  Kelly was sprawled on the floor. She looked dazed. She was panting hard.

  Holding my breath, my chest aching, I stumbled over to her. “Kelly? Are you okay?”

  She shook her head no.

  “Can you breathe?” I asked.

  “I … I guess,” she choked out.

  All around us, kids screamed and cried and moaned. They stampeded out the door. The room was nearly empty.

  Chris staggered up to us. One of his pointy ears had fallen off.

  “Whoa. That smelled like a dead horse!” he cried. He picked up the brown package from beside Kelly on the floor. “What is this? Some kind of powerful stink bomb?”

  “Put it down!” I cried. “Maybe it has more inside it.”

  He tossed it across the room.

  “Who …?” Kelly moaned. “Who would …?” Swallowing hard, she gazed at the broken front window.

  I patted her shoulder. “Take a deep breath,” I said. “The smell is almost gone. Try to calm down.”

  “Who …?” she repeated. “Meg, who would do that? Who would throw a disgusting stink bomb through my living room window?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know what to say.

  “Who hates me that much?” she cried. Tears rolled down her red, swollen face. “Who hates me that much to ruin my party and wreck my house? Who?”

  “I don’t know,” I said softly. I grabbed her by the arms and helped her to her feet. “I don’t know anyone who would do such a horrible thing.”

  Kelly rocked back. I held her steady till she caught her balance.

  “Man, that thing totally stunk!” Chris exclaimed. He turned to Kelly. “And you got the major blast.”

  “I … I can still smell it,” Kelly said in a trembling voice. “It’s on my skin! On my clothes!”

  I wiped tears off her cheeks with my fingers. “Chris and I will help you clean up,” I said.

  “We will?” Chris said.

  I gave him a playful karate chop in the stomach. “Yes, we will.”

  Behind us, Bubba groaned and lay down on the floor.

  I turned to Kelly. “Where are your parents?”

  Kelly shook her head. “They thought the party was under control. So they went to a late movie.” She let out a long sigh. “Look at this room. The window … When they get home, they’re going to kill me!”

  “We can clean up most of it,” I said. I kicked a sharp triangle of glass out of my way. “First, let’s wipe up the puke. Where are the paper towels? We need rolls and rolls of paper towels.”

  The three of us started to work. We didn’t say a word. The eerie music was still playing. Kelly shut it off with a sob. She kept shaking her head and muttering to herself.

  My stomach felt shaky. Cleaning up puke isn’t my favorite job. I scrubbed really hard. But there were orange and yellow stains all over the carpet and furniture.

  “Do you have air freshener?” I asked Kelly.

  That question made her start to cry again. Her black eye makeup ran down the sides of her face.

  “We need a ton of air freshener!” Chris said, holding his nose.

  “Shut up,” I said. “That’s not helpful.”

  He crunched over a shard of glass. “How about if I get the vacuum cleaner?” he said. “If we get rid of the broken glass, the room will almost be back to normal.”

  “No, it won’t,” Kelly murmured. “Nothing will ever be normal again.”

  I couldn’t blame her for being so upset. She had been throwing the best Halloween party in history, and someone deliberately ruined it.

  Who could it have been? Someone she forgot to invite? Jus
t about every kid in our class was there.

  My brain spun. I couldn’t think of anyone who hated Kelly or had a grudge against her. I couldn’t think of anyone who would play such a mean and harmful joke.

  The three of us vacuumed and cleaned the carpet. We did the best we could.

  I told Kelly I’d call her in the morning. Then Chris and I started for home.

  As we walked, we both struggled to think of who might have ruined Kelly’s party. But we couldn’t come up with a single name.

  Chris sniffed hard two or three times. “I can still smell that stink on my clothes,” he murmured. “Wonder if it’ll ever come out.”

  The cold wind swirled around us. We were shivering by the time we got home.

  We went in through the back door. Penny was asleep, but she left all the lights on for us.

  We climbed the stairs. I stepped into my bedroom.

  And let out a cry.

  The orange baby-kid stood in front of my dresser. “Did you get the message?” he asked.

  Chris heard my scream and came running into my room. We both stared at the kid in the weird costume.

  His baggy blue T-shirt came down over his diaper. He leaned on the dresser and tapped one red shoe on the floor.

  “My feeling is lonely,” he said in his tinny cartoon voice. “I sent you aroma message. To come home.”

  “Huh?” I cried. “What did you send us?”

  “Aroma message,” the kid repeated.

  I nearly choked. I took two or three steps toward him. “You did that?” I shouted angrily. “You threw a stink bomb through Kelly’s window?”

  He nodded his round head. He had a big grin on his face. Like he was proud of what he did.

  “How COULD you?” I screamed. “Your aroma message ruined my friend’s party. And it made a lot of kids sick.”

  The kid’s grin stayed plastered on his face. “You got message,” he said.

  “Who are you?” Chris demanded. “How did you get in our house?”

  “Never mind,” I said. “Just get out of here. Really. I mean it. Get out!”

  “But my feeling is lonely,” the kid said.

  Why did he talk so strange in that weird hoarse voice? It had to be a joke. But the joke wasn’t very funny.

  “My name Bim,” he said. The orange antennae on top of his head wiggled as he talked. “You know my planet? Weirdo Planet?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, sure,” I said. “You’re a weirdo. Very funny. You can go home now.” I motioned to the door.

  “You’re a little too weird,” Chris said. “Go home, dude!”

  “No. Bim is home,” the kid said. His raisin eyes glowed darkly. “First time on your planet. Bim never visit before.”

  I turned to Chris. “Should we call 911?” I whispered. “Call the police?”

  Chris shrugged. “Beats me. This kid is a nut job.”

  Bim picked up a glass paperweight from my dresser top and began rolling it between his three-fingered hands. He smiled again. “You saved Bim’s life.”

  I squinted at him. “Excuse me?”

  “You mean because we pulled you from that hedge?” Chris asked.

  Bim nodded. “Yes. Bim’s life saved by you. So my feeling is happy.”

  “Big thrill,” I said. “Will you please go home now?”

  “Bim is home,” he replied. “You save Bim’s life. Bim belongs to you now.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  What kind of dumb joke was this kid pulling?

  He licked the glass paperweight with a fat pink tongue. Licked it all around. Then set it back on my dresser.

  “It’s really late,” I said. “Why don’t you give us a break?”

  His antennae stood straight up. “Translate, please.”

  “Just go home!” Chris said through clenched teeth. He balled his hands into tight fists. I could see my brother was about to lose it.

  “This my home now,” the weirdo repeated. “I belong to you now. You save Bim’s life.”

  “Are you crazy?” I screamed. “We didn’t save your life. We just pulled you out of a hedge!”

  Chris turned to me. “Is this kid for real?”

  I felt a shiver run down my back. I suddenly pictured Bubba, Kelly’s dog. At first, Bubba came bursting out of the house to attack this kid. But the dog stopped suddenly and started to shake with fright.

  Something very strange was happening here. Strange and frightening. I began to believe this wasn’t a kid in a funny costume.

  But what was he?

  Is he dangerous? I wondered.

  “My feeling is happy,” the kid said. He did a little dance, tapping his shiny red shoes on the floor.

  “You’re going to wake up Penny,” I said. “Please … please … I’m begging you to leave.”

  “Where Bim sleep?” he asked, gazing around.

  “You sleep at your own house,” Chris said. “You know, dude, this joke isn’t funny anymore. It’s just stupid.”

  Once again, Bim’s snail-like antennae stood straight up. “Translate, please,” he said.

  “I’ll translate,” Chris shouted. “It means I’m kicking your butt out of here!”

  He dove forward and grabbed the little kid around the neck. Then he slid his hands under the kid’s armpits. And hoisted him into the air.

  “Oh, NO!” Chris let out a startled cry — as Bim flew from his hands and went sailing up to the ceiling.

  CRAAASSSHH.

  He smacked the ceiling hard.

  “Chris — you’ve hurt him! You’ve hurt him!” I cried.

  “WHEEEEE!” Bim cried. “Ceiling game fun. Do again! Do again!”

  He came floating down slowly. I moved under him and caught him in my arms. “He — really is light as a feather!” I cried.

  Chris was breathing hard. “That’s why he got away from me,” he said.

  “Let Bim down,” the kid said in his funny voice. “Bim live here now.”

  “No, you don’t,” I said. I held him tightly and started for the door. “You’re leaving now, Bim — or whatever your real name is.”

  “It’s so weird,” Chris said, following me to the bedroom door. “He weighs less than Aunt Lucy’s Chihuahua! Maybe he’s telling the truth, Meg. Maybe —”

  I was nearly into the hall when Bim started to change. He shut his tiny eyes tight and clenched his whole face. He began to grit his teeth. Then disgusting grunting sounds came up from his throat.

  “Rrrrruggggh. Rrrrrrugggggh.”

  I gasped as he began to feel heavier. I struggled to hold him up.

  But he was gaining weight fast.

  “Ohhh!” I tried to grab on tighter. But he was too heavy.

  Pain shot down my back and arms. I had to drop him to the floor.

  He landed with a hard, loud thud.

  “He — he weighs a thousand pounds!” I stammered.

  Bim crossed his arms in front of his slender chest and glared at us. His face was bright orange now.

  “How did you do that?” I screamed. My voice came out high and shrill. “What’s going on here? You’re not really an alien from outer space! You can’t be!”

  I totally lost it. I reached down to his chin and grabbed the bottom of his mask. “Let’s see who you really are!”

  I tugged on the kid’s mask.

  I tugged harder.

  I gasped. Then I jerked my hand back and nearly stumbled into my brother.

  “It’s NOT a mask!” I choked out. “That’s his real face.”

  Chris’s eyes went wide. “For real?”

  “For real.”

  I stared at the orange guy, about three feet tall with his baby face and perky antennae … his three-fingered hands … those raisin eyes.

  All real. Not a Halloween costume.

  A cold wave of panic ran down my back.

  Bim didn’t move. He just stood there, glaring at Chris and me with his arms crossed.

  “T-tell us the truth,” I stammered. �
�Who are you?”

  “Bim,” he replied. “Bim Bim Bim. My name Bim. I am Weirdo.”

  Chris took a step back. His voice shook with fear. “But … how did you get here?” he asked. “Why did you land in our neighborhood?”

  “Why I land here?” Bim replied. He rubbed his round orange chin. “I try remember.”

  Then he stopped. He made a hoarse coughing noise. Then he cleared his throat really loud.

  “Excuse Bim,” he said.

  He opened his mouth wide … wider. He began to cough and sputter. He made raspy choking noises from deep in his throat.

  Then, with a SPLUTTTT, something wet and disgusting slid out of his open mouth — and plopped onto my bedspread.

  “Oh, sick!” Chris groaned. “It’s some kind of dead animal, covered in yellow slime!”

  “Excuse Bim,” he said, wiping the wet mucus off his lips with the back of one hand. He spit a fat glob of yellow mucus onto the floor.

  I blinked several times and gaped at the sticky mess on my bed. A dead bird. Still whole. Its feathers matted to its body by yellow slime.

  My stomach heaved. I pressed a hand over my mouth.

  I heard a sound at the door.

  I spun around and saw Penny come shuffling into the room. She squinted through her thick glasses at the dead bird on my bedspread. Her eyes bulged and she let out a cry:

  “Meg! What’s THAT?”

  My heart skipped a beat.

  Penny leaned over the bed and squinted at the yucky dead bird on the bedspread.

  Think fast, Meg! I told myself.

  Chris and I didn’t want to upset our old babysitter. She was so frail and weak.

  But how could I explain a whole mucus-covered dead bird on my bed?

  “It … it’s a Halloween thing,” I told Penny. “A joke. You know. It’s made out of rubber or something.”

  Penny turned and lowered her gaze on Bim.

  “That’s our friend … Max,” Chris told her. “Isn’t that an awesome baby costume?”

  “Everyone loved Max’s costume at Kelly’s party,” I added.

  I hated to be such a liar. But it was for Penny’s own good.

  Penny laughed. “That’s wonderful,” she told Bim. “Very clever. Did you make it yourself?”

  “Bim made it,” he answered, nodding his head.