by M. D. Payne
I finally got my helmet on and then CHOMP, one of the zombie herring bit into the air hose feeding my helmet.
“Uh, oh,” I said. “Oh…”
I gagged on the next breath. The bubble of skin expanded with the green and brown gas of the zombie herring that were trapped with me.
“Oh, it’s terrible,” I said.
“What’s going on down there?” asked Gordon.
“My skin. Is filling up. With gas,” I said between coughs.
Sure enough, the entire school was slowly becoming separated as bubbles of gas formed in what used to be the membranium skin. And I was in the middle of it all.
“We’re coming down there,” said Gordon.
I coughed and gagged. It smelled a million times worse than being trapped under a sheet with Gordon’s fart.
The herring, frightened by being trapped in their own gas, began farting even harder. We started to rise in the water, slowly at first, and then picking up speed as the bubbles expanded even further.
The bubble I was in popped with a loud BANG. We jiggled the hundreds of other bubbles, most of which were filled by one or two fish.
“No!” I yelled, still coughing in the green/brown fart stew. “Turn back!”
COUGH, GAG, COUGH!
“The skins,” I screamed between coughs, “ARE GOING TO EXPLODE!”
But it was too late. The gas bubbles were expanding at amazing rates, and the frantic school rose up the side of the trench.
The entire mass of bubbles began to jiggle and vibrate, until, suddenly.
POW! POP! BAM! BLORP!
All the bubbles burst violently and shot us to the surface of the water. I flew up out of the water fifteen feet and then landed on top of a huge wave that had formed by the explosion. It crashed over the beach, over the jungle, and smashed into the resort!
When I finally stopped spinning, I found myself facedown in the Jacuzzi!
Gordon and a mermaid washed up nearby, in the infinity pool. I scanned the horizon for Ben, Nabila, and Shane, but all I could see were zombie herring flip-flopping everywhere. A few wet Nurses looked around confused, and waved their hands at the horrendous odor that had washed up with the wave.
“Do you see the others?” I asked Gordon.
“Ben and Nabila, sitting in a tree…,” Gordon said, and pointed up.
“Just so you know, we are NOT k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” came Nabila’s voice from above.
I looked up to see Ben and Nabila tangled up in the fronds of a palm tree.
“Woooo-hooo,” Ben yelled. “And I didn’t even barf in my helmet!”
Gordon turned to the mermaid in the pool.
“So,” he cooed, “what are you doing later?”
The Sweet Stench of Success
I laid in the Jacuzzi for a few minutes, and let the bubbles blurp at my backside.
“Ahhh,” I sighed.
“Can someone get me out of here?” asked Ben from his perch.
“Relax and enjoy the view,” scolded Nabila. “Or are you still trying to get away from me?”
“No, I’m not. But, how can you enjoy the view, when—oh, riiiiiiight,” said Ben. “You can’t smell the massive fartbomb that just exploded.”
A zombie herring flopped out of the palm tree above Ben and smacked him in the head on its way down.
“I think it smells like victory!” said Shane, who ran up to the infinity pool and jumped in.
“I don’t want to know what losing smells like,” quipped Gordon, floating in the pool.
“Shane!” I yelled. “How were you able to ride the Kraken? That was amazing!”
“I just remember what Gordon told me Clive had said,” Shane said. “And gave him one swift karate chop to the top of his head.”
“Works every time, brah,” a weak voice came from the pool.
“Hey, what’s that?” Gordon said.
I lifted my head out of the relaxing Jacuzzi and looked to see Gordon pointing to something bobbing up and down in the water.
“Is that Clive?” Gordon asked.
“WHAT!?” I yelled, and jumped out of the Jacuzzi.
Shane ducked underwater, and swam up to the surface a few seconds later with…
“CLIVE!” I yelled. “You’re alive! I mean, you’re not dead. I mean…it’s great to see you!”
Shane lifted him up to the side of the pool, and I dragged out the old zombie surfer.
“Hey, buddy,” he gurgled, water pouring out of his mouth. “I think I’m a little waterlogged here. Get me in some sun!”
“What happened?” I asked. “I thought we lost you!”
Shane walked over to Clive and me. Gordon swam up to the side of the pool. Ben waved from the palm tree.
“Hey, I think I tweaked my right ear,” Clive said. “Is it still there?”
I turned his head to have a look, and a crab scurried out of his ear and into the jungle.
“I think it’s fine now,” Shane said. “So, what happened?”
“Well, I was able to hide in a small crevice under the coral where the sharks couldn’t reach me,” he said, “but when they finally left, I realized I was stuck. How did I get here?”
“It’s a long story,” I said, “but the short version is—”
Before I could start, Director Z, a dozen Nurses, and almost all of the residents showed up poolside. Some of them looked like they were about to fall over, and were held up by other residents, or by the Nurses.
“Chris,” said Director Z, “you and your friends have done it again! I’m so very, very pleased.”
The crowd burst into applause, the monsters laughing and smiling.
“Aw, thanks!” I said. “We had a lot of help. Gil, your farts are amazing! Clive, you saved our lives! And, Nabila! We never could have done it without you.”
The swamp creature walked out of the crowd and I gave him such a hard hug that he farted…of course! Then I shook the Director’s hand.
“Don’t forget to thank Ms. Veracruz,” said Director Z. “If it weren’t for the rare zombie piranha she fed you, you wouldn’t have been quite so agile in the water.”
“Zombie,” Gordon choked, “piranha?”
A shower of vomit fell from the palm tree. Poor Ben.
“Yes, twice actually,” Director Z said. “Once at school—”
“The Mac ’n’ Sneeze!” Shane yelled. “I knew it tasted fishy!”
“And again during the barbecue in Cape Canaveral,” finished Director Z.
“Aw, man,” said Gordon, “my stomach is cramping.”
Gordon grunted and little bubbles rose to the surface of the pool. As each one popped we heard:
“POP—Oh—POP—man—POP—I—POP—ate—PLIP—zombie—PLUP—piranha!”
“Interesting,” Director Z said. “The zombie piranha was meant to help you swim faster in case you ended up in the water. But apparently, a side effect is that you can fartspeak.”
Shane lifted his leg and farted a single word: “AWESOME.”
“Everyone that still has skin on them is fine,” Director Z said, “although they no longer have superstrength. If it wasn’t for that superstrength, I don’t think we would have made it through the day. I’m told a werewolf and Gil personally held me down to keep me from wreaking havoc on the facility. I want to apologize for my actions. I couldn’t fight the mind control.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” said Shane, “but I apologize for kicking you in the noggin.”
“Not a problem,” said Director Z, rubbing his jaw. “Now, how do we get out of this skin? Any ideas?”
“Get to fartin’!” said Gordon. “You’ve got to pop it like a balloon!”
“That’s what caused the fartsunami,” I said. “All the zombie herring popped their skin bubbles at once.”
“Fartsunami!” Ben called down from the palm tree. “That’s awesome!”
“Well, it looks like we have a lot to fartspeak about,” said Director Z.
Shane looked at Director
Z strangely.
“I ate zombie piranha as well,” Director Z said.
“Ohhhhhhh,” we all said.
Grigore walked forward and stood next to the swamp creature.
“Chris,” said Grigore, “I just vant to apologize on behalf of all the residents. You saved us from the sussuroblats, cleaned up our messes, wiped blood soup off our mouths, made our coffins, and ve returned the favor by treating you like servants. Ve’re very sorry—ve’ve not quite been ourselves. Ve vere cooped up and getting crazy in Raven Hill. It vas hard not to be cranky. But ve’ll try to be better. Ve’ll try our best to vork as a team.”
“Hear, hear!” screamed the crowd.
“Now,” yelled Director Z, “let’s soak up some sun, eat a few zombie frogs, relax, and build up our lebensplasm!”
Gordon jumped out of the pool and walked over to Director Z.
“I was just wondering if I could ask you one thing,” said Gordon.
“Please,” said Director Z, “anything you need.”
“Can you just call it monster juice? It sounds so much more fun than lebensplasm.”
“MONSTER JUICE!” yelled Clive from his seat.
“All right,” said Director Z, “monster juice it is!”
The crowd cheered.
We spent the next few days at Paradise Island, enjoying the sun, sand, and sea. The swamp creature and I took a trip down to the membranium hive to make sure it was completely destroyed. It was. Clive gave us surfing lessons. Shane finally got his fruit smoothie. And when the zombie sharks returned to the aquarium, we made them special vegetable-brain smoothies.
It was the vacation we had desperately needed.
A Nurse fixed the telephone lines and we called in transportation. We returned to Cape Canaveral, where Lunch Lady made all the preparations for folks to think we had been there the whole time.
Then it was back home!
I walked into my house completely relaxed, but b efore I could say, “Hello,” my mother attacked me.
“Chrissy!” she screeched. “You have A LOT of explaining to do!”
“Huh?” I asked. “What’s going on?”
“THAT’S WHAT I WANT TO KNOW!” she screeched even louder.
“Whoa, Mom,” I said, “calm down.”
“I will not calm down!” she said. “I can’t even count how many times I called you, and you never called back! You always call back! What’s going on?”
“I was just hanging out with my friends,” I replied.
“Oh, really?” she asked. “I saw all sorts of pictures from parents of their kids, and you’re not in any of them. We always talk about how much you love space, and you didn’t even text me a photo of Kennedy Space Center!”
“Mom, I was busy,” I said, starting to get nervous.
What if she knows about my trip to Paradise Island? I wondered.
“Yeah, you’re always busy these days,” she replied. “Ever since you started volunteering at Raven Hill, you’ve been so busy…and acting so strange.”
“It’s…hard work,” I stammered. “Really tiring. Sorry if I’m a little out of it and just wanted to relax on vacation.”
“Chris, I know you too well. Something’s wrong. What’s going on at Raven Hill? You always stay there so late. I’ve been e-mailing your father about it, and he’s just as worried.”
“All right, Mom, all right!” I said, not really knowing what to say. “Everything is fine. Nothing is wrong.”
“I think it’s about time I spoke with the Director of Raven Hill,” she said. “In fact, I think I would like to speak with him IMMEDIATELY. RIGHT NOW.”
“All right,” I said, not knowing what to do. “I guess I’ll go and get him.”
“Go and get him?” Mom said. “I don’t want you go anywhere until I speak with him—just give me his number.”
“I…don’t have his number,” I said.
“Well,” she said, grabbing her purse, “I’ll go up there myself.”
“No, wait,” I said. “Everything’s fine, and there’s nothing to worry about. I need…um…I need to get my volunteer form anyway! Trust me.”
“FINE,” she yelled. “But if you come back here without the Director, you’re going to be sorry.”
I biked up to Raven Hill as quickly as I could. My mind was buzzing. What are we going to tell my mother? We have to tell her something!
But soon my mind was buzzing even more. When I reached the top of the hill, there was nothing there but a smoldering pile of rubble. The Nurses were erecting large tents behind the burned remains of Raven Hill. Director Z stood in front of the building with his head down.
“Director Z!” I yelled. “What happened?”
“Chris!” he replied. “It’s terrible. The ravens—and there are only three of them now—report that Herr Direktor Detlef was a tool of the membranium this whole time. He never intended to bring his residents to Raven Hill. They were all sucked dry by the membranium shortly before we arrived. We were lured to Paradise Island by the membranium! Herr Direktor Detlef destroyed our facility—and himself.”
He paused, then said, quietly, “There’s something bigger going on here. Why would the membranium want to destroy Raven Hill?”
“When you were possessed,” I said, “you said that someone was making the membranium collect all the monster juice.”
“Yes, I seem to remember that now…,” said Director Z. “And ‘they’ look to be collecting even more than monster juice. Herr Direktor Detlef’s pendant can’t be found anywhere.”
“Pendant?” I asked.
Director Z loosened his tie and pulled a necklace out from under his shirt. A sliver of bloodstone hung off the bottom.
“Every Director has one, and Herr Direktor Detlef’s is gone. This is all very troubling,” said the Director.
A Nurse approached with a slightly-charred painting. He held it up to Director Z.
“I told you so,” said Lucinda B. Smythe.
The Nurse carried the painting away.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“We don’t have the resources to rebuild,” he said, sadly. “So we’ll have to seek shelter somewhere else. I’m not sure where yet.”
“Well,” I said, “we have another problem.”
“What?” he said.
“My mother knows something’s going on at Raven Hill.”
“We’ll just have the witches whip up a batch of memory-erasing serum.”
“No, it’s not that simple. My father’s in Afghanistan with the Air Force Reserve, and she’s already e-mailed him about it. We can’t erase his memory—unless you have a facility in Afghanistan, and can find him. His mission is classified—but there are e-mail records, and the US government doesn’t destroy e-mail records. She’s asked to speak with you right away.”
“All right.” He sighed.
We both looked at the smoldering rubble, and at the same time, said:
“We should have just stayed on Paradise Island.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR…
M. D. Payne is a mad scientist who creates monsters by stitching together words instead of dead body parts. After nearly a decade in multimedia production for public radio, he entered children’s publishing as a copywriter and marketer. Monster Juice is his debut series. He lives in the tiny village of New York City with his wife and baby girl, and hopes to add a hairy, four-legged monster to his family soon.
