The Evil Pumpkin Pie Fight!

by Jaden Kent

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  An imprint of Bonnier Publishing USA

  251 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10010

  Copyright © 2017 by Bonnier Publishing USA

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. LITTLE BEE BOOKS is a trademark of Bonnier Publishing USA, and associated colophon is a trademark of Bonnier Publishing USA.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  Printed in the United States of America LB 0617

  ISBN 978-1-4998-0409-6 (hc)

  First Edition 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  ISBN 978-1-4998-0371-6 (pb)

  First Edition 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  littlebeebooks.com

  bonnierpublishingusa.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  1: A HEAD FOR TROUBLE

  2: ALL HAIL THE PUMPKIN KING!

  3: WHAT A TANGLED WEB

  4: WARTS UP?

  5: WARTY WART HAG FACE

  6: PUMPKIN PIE PANDEMONIUM

  7: STICKY BUSINESS

  8: DING DONG, THE WITCH IS WED

  9: THE PARTY’S OVER

  1

  A HEAD FOR TROUBLE

  “Give us me wishes!” Dumberdoor the troll said.

  “We found the pink platypus that plays the ukulele upside down!” Dumbdalf, the other troll, said. “Now you owe us wishes.”

  The two trolls raced out from the forest toward Ella and Owen.

  The dragon twins were shocked.

  “How did they find a pink platypus?” Owen asked his sister.

  “I don’t even want to know about the ukulele,” she replied.

  “So, where’s me wishes?” Dumberdoor demanded.

  “Okay, okay. I have your first wish,” Owen said. The trolls rubbed their hairy, wart-covered hands together with excitement.

  “Your first wish is that you wish you could watch me and Ella run away!” Owen and Ella turned and ran away.

  “Me not want that wish!” Dumberdoor said. “Me wish for dragon stew!”

  “Me, too, wish for stew dragon!” Dumbdalf added. “Grant me wish!”

  The trolls watched as the two dragons ran into the forest and disappeared into the shadows.

  “I think we lost them,” Ella said.

  “I hope so,” Owen puffed. “My claws are aching from all that running and my wings are too tired to flutter.”

  Owen looked around. “Wait a minute! We’re back in Terror Swamp again! I didn’t want that either!”

  “Don’t worry. I think home is this way,” Ella said, pointing through the trees, “. . . or maybe it’s that way.”

  “Good,” Owen replied. “You go that way. I’m going the other way.” Owen ran away but crashed into a tree. A branch broke off and fell on his head. “It’s a Swamp Tree Goblin! It’s got me!” Owen’s scaly body wobbled and he tripped over a tree stump. He crashed into Ella.

  “Watch where you’re going!” she cried.

  Ella and Owen splashed down into the inky black doom of Terror Swamp.

  Ella shivered, shaking the water from her scales. “Don’t be such a scaredy-dragon,” she said. “There’s hardly any water here.”

  Owen stood up and picked the mud off of his claws. “Great. So we’re lost again.”

  “Maybe not,” she replied. Ella pointed toward something moving on the other side of some trees. There was a flickering light in the distance. “Let’s check that out,” she said.

  “Oh, let’s not,” Owen replied. “Every time we go check out something, we get captured and something tries to eat us.”

  “It could be a way out of Terror Swamp,” she said.

  “Really?!” Owen said. “There’s no way I’m going to investigate the only light glowing in the middle of a place called Terror Swamp!” Owen folded his scaly arms. He wasn’t budging.

  “Well, I’m going to go see what it is. You can stay here. On your own. In the dark.” Ella’s dragon wings fluttered and she flew off toward the light.

  Owen looked around as it grew darker. Leaves rustled and swirled in the night air.

  A Grizzly Owl hooted.

  A Swamp Bat swooped low, passing by Owen’s snout.

  On second thought, being left all alone while someone else goes to check out the only light glowing in the middle of a place called Terror Swamp is even worse than going to check out the only light glowing in the middle of a place called Terror Swamp! Owen thought.

  Owen flew off after his sister. “Okay, Ella! Wait up! Let’s see what’s making that light!”

  Together, the two dragons pushed through the forest. They came to a clearing in front of a broken-down wooden swamp shack. A jack-o’-lantern with an angry face carved into it sat on the porch. Light flickered from the candle inside of it.

  “That’s one creepy jack-o’-lantern!” Ella said.

  “Okay, we’ve seen what the light is. Let’s leave,” Owen said. “This place looks haunted.”

  “You can’t ever go,” the jack-o’-lantern suddenly said to them. “Ever-never!”

  “Who-who are you?” Ella stuttered.

  “I am . . . the Pumpkin King!” he said. “Vines up!”

  “AHHHHHHHH!” Ella and Owen screamed.

  Vines stretched out from beneath the porch and wrapped around Ella and Owen.

  “I told you something like this would happen!” Owen yelled.

  2

  ALL HAIL THE PUMPKIN KING!

  “Just what are you the king of?” Ella asked. The Pumpkin King’s head sat on the wooden floor inside the swamp shack. The dragon siblings sat on the floor, wrapped tightly in leafy green vines.

  “Right now, I’m the king of, well . . . just this shack,” the Pumpkin King replied. “But I have very big plans for next year! Soon I’ll be king of those rocks over there and maybe those bushes right outside the front door.”

  “It’s good to have dreams,” Owen said. “Can you let us go now?”

  “Never!” the Pumpkin King said. “You’re working for the witch! She already stole my body, and now you’re here to steal my royal crown!”

  Ella and Owen saw the king’s “crown” resting on a broken chair. The crown was made of twigs and pinecones. A beetle crawled lazily across it.

  “Looks . . . um . . . fantastic,” Ella said.

  Owen snorted, and Ella elbowed him to keep him from laughing.

  “You try making a crown without any arms and see how well you do!” the Pumpkin King huffed.

  “We don’t work for anyone!” Ella said.

  “And we don’t know any witches either,” said Owen.

  “We’re just lost,” Ella explained.

  “We want out of Terror Swamp and we want to go home!” Owen explained.

  “If you’re not spies, maybe we can make a deal,” the Pumpkin King said.

  “What kind of deal?” asked Ella.

  “A royal deal! I’ll give you a map that will take you out of Terror Swamp,” the Pumpkin King said.

  “That’s great!” Owen said.

  “And in return, you have to go GET MY BODY BACK FROM THAT WITCH!”

  “Why can’t you just go get your body back yourself?”
Ella asked.

  “I’ve been growing a pumpkin army to attack that witch and steal back my body, but it’s taking way too long,” the Pumpkin King explained. “Did you know that pumpkins take months to grow? And pumpkin kings are terrible farmers. Also, I’ve got this itch that’s killing me. And don’t even ask me about how hard it is to make pies without a body!”

  “Uh, pies?” Owen asked.

  “Yes! Pies!” the Pumpkin King snapped, tilting his head to motion to the stacks and stacks of pies in the corner of his shack.

  “That’s a LOT of pies,” Ella gasped.

  “Eleventy-raccoon at last count!” the Pumpkin King proudly announced.

  “Uh, ‘eleventy-raccoon’ isn’t a number,” Ella said.

  “Whattya expect?! My head’s hollow, okay?!” the Pumpkin King griped. “Also, math wasn’t required at Pumpkin King School.”

  “Okay, we’ll help you,” Ella agreed.

  “Wait! We’ll do what?” Owen exclaimed.

  “In exchange for the map,” Ella added.

  “Can you throw in something to eat, too? A little fire thorn stew?” Owen suggested. “Fish bone casserole? Screamer Beetle nachos with extra screams?”

  “All I have are pumpkin seeds,” the Pumpkin King replied.

  “We’ll still do it,” Ella said. She grabbed a handful of seeds that were scattered around the shack and popped them into her mouth. Then she grabbed another handful for later.

  “So this witch . . .” Owen began. “I’ll bet she lives on the other side of a creepy graveyard?”

  “No,” the Pumpkin King corrected.

  “Whew! That’s a relief!” Owen replied.

  “She lives in the middle of a creepy graveyard,” the Pumpkin King finished.

  “Great,” Owen said with a groan.

  3

  WHAT A TANGLED WEB

  “It’s quiet,” Owen whispered. “Too quiet.”

  “Shhhhhh!” Ella whispered back. “It’s not quiet if you keep talking.”

  Ella and Owen tiptoed through the dark graveyard. Headstones stuck out from the mossy ground. Leafy vines hung from trees and wrapped around their trunks. Owls hooted. Bats flew overhead. Wind rattled the iron gates of the cemetery. A thick fog covered the ground.

  “Watch your step, Ella,” Owen said. “I can’t see my claws in the fog and—oof!” Owen tripped over a headstone and fell to the ground. “OUCH!”

  “Shhhh!”

  “No one can hear us in a graveyard,” Owen said.

  “I know. I just hate graveyards,” Ella whispered. “They remind me of cemeteries.”

  “Graveyards and cemeteries are the same thing,” Owen said.

  “That explains it, then,” Ella whispered back.

  “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly afraid,” Owen said. “One of us has to be a brave dragon.”

  “I’m not afraid of the dark,” she replied. “I’m not afraid of bats, rats, vampires, or even witches.” She paused and took a deep breath. “But I am afraid of zombies.”

  “Zombies? They’re already dead. You can’t be afraid of dead things.”

  “They eat dragon brains,” Ella said. “And I’d prefer my brain to stay in my head.”

  “Okay then, since you want out of here faster, you go first,” Owen said.

  “Well, since you’re not scared of zombies, you go first,” Ella said, nudging Owen forward.

  “Since you’re more scared than I am, you go first more,” Owen said. He pushed Ella to take the lead.

  “Who dares disturb my slumber?” A ghostly specter rose up from the ground.

  “Okay! Now I’m scared!” Owen gasped.

  “I’m scared more!” Ella said.

  “Not as much as I am!” Owen said.

  “Like ten bajillion times more than you!” Ella replied.

  “Um, excuse me,” the ghost said. “Remember me? Angry ghost? In the cemetery?”

  “Be with you in a sec, Mr. Ghost,” Owen said then turned back to Ella. “Well, I’m waaaay more scared than if I woke up and found a thousand headless Screamer Scorpions crawling under my pillow!”

  “Uh, guys?” the ghost interrupted.

  They both ignored the ghost and continued to argue over who was more scared.

  “And I’m even more scared than if I woke up and found out that I looked like you!” Ella said to Owen.

  “WOOOOO-HOOOOOOO!” the ghost howled. Ella’s and Owen’s wings shivered. The ghostly voice had stopped Ella and Owen from arguing. They flew backward in a panic . . . and landed in a huge spiderweb.

  “Okay, now I’m really scared,” Owen said. He tried to pull himself out of the web. “And we’re stuck, too.”

  “I’d love to help,” the ghost said, “but I really don’t like spiders.” He sunk back into the ground and disappeared.

  “Don’t move,” Owen said to Ella.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Unless I’m mistaken, this is the web of a giant twelve-fanged Vampire Tree Spider,” he said. “I’ve seen pictures of them in a book called Spiders That Can Eat a Dragon. Oh no! It’s seen us!”

  The giant twelve-fanged Vampire Tree Spider slid out from a web tunnel at the top of the tree. It slowly and hungrily creeped toward Ella and Owen.

  “Did you ever notice that a lot of things want to eat us lately?” Ella asked. She tugged on the web and kicked as hard as she could. She was stuck, too.

  “Of course they do,” Owen replied. “I’m very tasty.”

  The spider moved closer. Its eight hairy legs skated across the web.

  “Tasty! That’s it! Ella, do you still have those seeds from the Pumpkin King?”

  “Food? You’re thinking about food when we’re about to be food?!” Ella yelled.

  “Let’s give the spider something that isn’t dragon meat!” Owen cried.

  The spider crept right up to the trapped dragons. Drool dripped from its hungry mouth. It was close enough for Owen to count ten of its twelve fangs.

  The spider jumped at Ella, eager for a yummy dragon snack. Ella ducked and threw her extra pumpkin seeds into the spider’s mouth.

  The spider happily gobbled them down and burped. No longer hungry, it crawled to the edge of its web and lay down to sleep. It would not be eating two dragons . . . yet.

  “Nice job, Ella!” Owen yelled. He finally managed to hook one of his thumb claws into the web and cut them free.

  The two dragons plopped to the ground and took off.

  4

  WARTS UP?

  “Okay, now that looks spooky,” Owen said. “I told you we shouldn’t have come here.”

  The witch’s home sat in the middle of the cemetery, just like the Pumpkin King had said. The cottage was quiet and still. Moss covered much of the roof, and many of the windows were dark. But a light in one window suggested someone was inside.

  “How are we supposed to sneak in and get the Pumpkin King’s body back from the witch?” Owen asked.

  “I have an idea,” Ella said. She grabbed some mud and slapped it onto Owen’s face, covering him with moss and swamp muck.

  “Ow, I’m going to get scale warts!” Owen complained.

  “Quiet, please,” Ella said. “I’m making you into something witches love: a zombie.”

  The mud covered Owen’s entire face. “Yuck!” he said. Ella stuck a couple of twigs and leaves onto Owen’s muddy face. “But you’re scared of zombies.”

  “I am. But I’ve heard that witches love zombies,” she said. Then she slapped mud onto her own face and spread it all around, covering her long snout.

  “Now we just walk and talk like two mindless zombies,” Ella explained. “Then we can knock on the witch’s door and she’ll let us in.” She smiled. “And that’s when we take back the Pumpkin King’s body.”

  Ella and Owen stumbled in the direction of the witch’s house. Owen held one leg stiff and dragged it along the ground. Ella stretched out her arms in front of her body.

  “Braaaaains,” Ella g
roaned. “Must . . . have . . . braaaains!”

  “Chocolate caaaaake,” Owen groaned. Ella glared at him. “What?! I don’t wanna eat brains! They’re gross!”

  They lumbered up to the front door of the cottage. Ella banged on the door with her foot.

  The door opened slightly. The witch peered out from behind it.

  “Braaaaains,” Ella groaned.

  “Oh, zombies! I haven’t had zombie guests for weeks!” the witch said. “What can I do for you delightful walking undead?”

  “Braaaaains,” Ella groaned again.

  The witch nodded and turned to Owen, waiting for his answer.

  “Ummmm . . . soup?” Owen groaned.

  “What kind of zombie eats soup?” the witch asked.

  “Don’t mind him,” Ella groaned. “He stopped making sense after I ate his . . . braaaaains.”

  The witch opened the door all the way. Ella and Owen stumbled inside. “Where are you zombies from anyway?”

  “Zombie . . . ville?” Owen replied, not quite sure where zombies would come from.

  “Zombieville? I’ve never heard of Zombieville,” the witch replied.

  “It’s across the Zombie Bridge from Zombieburg,” Ella added. “It’s a very small village.”

  “Let’s have lunch,” the witch said. “I’m all out of brains and soup, but I do have a nice stew in my cauldron.” She dipped a ladle into the pot and pulled out an oddly shaped object.

  “AAAAAAAAH! BRAINS!” Owen screamed and jumped into Ella’s arms.

  “It’s not a brain! It’s a turnip!” Ella said.

  “AAAAAAAAH! TURNIPS!” Owen screamed. He jumped from Ella’s grasp and into the witch’s arms.