by Bill Doyle
Happy focused almost completely on getting the crowd to cheer for him. When they seemed a little bored by his same old tricks, Happy had to dream up new elaborate schemes. He made up a tap dance he called “Do the Happy!” Soon all the fans were following his lead and stomping in their seats.
Lucky for the Scream Team, the Swine Creatures had their own problems. Whenever someone threw the ball or kicked it, the Swine players would panic and oink. “No!” they would squeal. “Call for help! Don’t let it fall!”
“What’s up with them?” Mike asked as two Swines grabbed the football and ran off the field.
“They are Swine Creatures,” J.D. said, “and the football is called a pigskin.”
“Now you’re just making me hungry,” Dennis said, drooling.
With Happy distracted by the crowd and the Swine Creatures afraid to hurt the ball, the Scream Team managed to pull off the Statue of Bitterly play.
Karl pretended to hand off the ball to Beck, and then threw it to Patsy. His pass was wild, but J.D. caught it. He spun, raced down the field, and scored a touchdown.
With a score of 7 to 0, the Scream Team had defeated the Swine Creatures!
“We actually won!” Patsy said after the game. “And we didn’t kick Happy off. You know what that means?”
“We’re going to the Wolfenstein Muck Bowl!” Mike cried.
Eric bounced up and down and the team cheered. But not Karl. He wasn’t celebrating.
“What’s wrong, Karl?” J.D. asked. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
It was. Except, now he had a new worry.
Karl and his teammates had gone through so much to be considered a real team. Now, thanks to Happy, they were the league’s biggest joke.
Would they look like fools in front of his all-time hero, Wolfenstein? Would he start laughing at them, too?
Four days later, the night of the Wolfenstein Muck Bowl finally arrived!
Karl woke up feeling queasy and anxious, but he knew he couldn’t miss this game. Even if things went horribly wrong, at least Karl would finally meet his hero Wolfenstein at halftime.
That would make up for all of Happy’s mean pranks.
When he arrived at the stadium on his bike, the Scream Team, Mr. Benedict, and the Coaches Conundrum were already there. The coaches were both wearing their headsets and yelling into them. They didn’t seem to notice anyone around them.
While the rest of the Scream Team stretched before the game, Happy warmed up the crowd by imitating his teammates. He rolled into the goalpost like he was Eric and chased an invisible tail as if he were Karl. But the crowd especially loved it when he imitated Beck.
“Squish, squish.” Happy made sound effects and stomped around in the muck. “Look at me, everybody, I’m Beck the flipper foot! Abso-tootly!”
The crowd roared with laughter. Karl was just about to imitate a werewolf biting someone when Hairy Hairwell’s voice blasted over the speakers.
“What a night for football here in Putridge Stadium!” he shouted. “The air at the annual Wolfenstein Muck Bowl is crackling with excitement as we await the arrival of All-Time All-Star Wolfenstein at the halftime show!”
The spectators whooped and cheered.
“And of course, on either side of the halftime show, we have some football for you,” Hairy said with a chuckle. “We have a mismatched matchup tonight. Say hello to the usually dogged underdogs, the Scream Team. . . .”
Hairy paused so the Scream Team could wave to the crowd. Karl thought he could hear someone clapping. Then he realized it was just the sound of Dennis’s wings flapping nervously together.
“And,” Hairy continued, “please give a warm welcome to the unstoppable Frankenstein’s Monsters!”
The crowd went wild. Turning toward the other team’s bench, Karl got his first good look at the Frankensteins. “Wolfsbane,” he said. Now he could guess why they didn’t let Bolt on their team.
Bolt had a leg that belonged to a ballet dancer, one arm from a teacher’s pet, the other arm from a gardener, and a mishmash of different parts.
Not the monsters on the Frankensteins.
Their linemen had legs the size of tree trunks, from sumo wrestlers. Their running back, Josie, had springy feet from a high jumper. The Frankenstein wide receiver, Hayden, had hands like tennis rackets, from a worker who had gotten stuck under a steamroller. And all of their players were at least twice as tall as Bolt.
When Frank the Cyclops called for the coin toss, the Frankenstein quarterback, Leo, thudded out to the 50-yard line like a moving block of granite. He cast a shadow like a skyscraper over Karl.
“Leo hungry,” Leo grunted. Karl just hoped werewolf wasn’t on the menu.
The ref flipped the coin. The Frankensteins won the coin toss and elected to kick. Both teams’ players lined up to start the game.
“Uh-oh,” Mike said nervously. Karl couldn’t blame him. The Scream Team looked like tiny squish-ants compared to the giant-sized Frankensteins.
“Just make it until halftime,” Karl told himself. “And it will all be worth it.”
Lillian the Frankenstein kicked the ball long and high.
As the wave of humungous Frankensteins lumbered toward him, Karl wasn’t sure he would even make it past this play.
The rest of the Scream Team scattered, leaving Karl to catch the ball. He snagged it out of the air and started running down the field.
That was when a tiny voice started speaking in his head. “This is so scary and totally not worth it,” the voice said. “You should just turn around and run home.”
For a second, Karl thought about following that advice when—Wham!
Edward the Frankenstein slammed into him.
“Fumble!” Hairy shouted as the ball flew out of Karl’s paws. Edward caught it but tripped before he could gain any ground.
Meanwhile, Karl was still flying high up into the air and had a good view of the field.
All the monsters on the Scream Team were acting strangely. Eric was rolling in circles, Bolt was digging a hole, and Dennis was gnawing on the bottom of the goalpost as if it were made of headcheese.
Karl splashed into the muck helmet-first. “What are you guys doing?” he asked his teammates as he got back on his feet. And why did one side of his shoulder pads feel kind of squirmy? Karl jabbed it with his paw, and the pad said, “Ouch!”
A grizzled little head popped through his uniform where his shoulder pad should have been.
“It’s a gnome-it-all!” Karl yelled. The mini monsters were famous for giving incredibly bad advice. Soon the heads were pushing through the uniform fabric of all the members of the Scream Team . . . except for Happy.
“The Scream Team seems to be having an equipment malfunction,” Hairy announced. “It seems someone has swapped gnomes in place of their shoulder pads. But who would do something so wicked?”
“I did it!” Happy shouted to the crowd. “Hee hoo hee!”
“Hee hoo hee!” the spectators cheered back.
“Now I know how the Conundrums feel,” Patsy said, giving the gnome on her shoulder a little flick.
After a turnover of downs and fixing their shoulder pads, the team hurried back out onto the field to play defense. “We’ve got to hold them!” Karl called from his position at corner back.
But now the Scream Team was too worried about Happy to concentrate. What would he do next?
Tommy, the Frankenstein center, snapped the ball to Leo. The offensive line tore through the Scream Team’s defense.
With all the time in the world, Leo stepped back and nailed the pass to his wide receiver, Hayden, who rolled down the field like a tank.
Hairy Hairwell kept up with the play-by-play: “Hayden’s at the 25 and 20. . . . No Scream Team players are even close. . . . He’s at 15, 10, 5 . . . touchdown! This is a doomsday scenario for the Scream Team!”
The Frankensteins went for a two-point conversion and easily picked it up, then kicked the ball to the Scream Team. As t
he football headed straight for him, Mike the swamp thing turned even more green. He waved his hands frantically—and then his tail just to be safe—to signal a fair catch.
On the first play, Karl took the snap from Patsy. He went for the pitch back to Beck, and Beck broke to the right. A clear path to the end zone was open in front of him. He started running.
“The Frankensteins didn’t see that play coming!” Hairy announced. “Beck could actually go all the way!”
“Yeah, right,” Happy yelled so monsters in the stands could hear him. “On those spatulas? I don’t think so.”
The laughter from the crowd was like an invisible force field. It stopped Beck in his tracks. But he didn’t stay still for long.
Kablam! Kevin, the Frankenstein middle line- backer, slammed into him like a freight train, sending him back ten yards and dropping him at the 45-yard line.
That was when Happy called a time-out.
“What are you doing?” Karl demanded. “Beck actually gained some ground. We’re on a roll!”
Happy started laughing so hard, he had to lie down in the muck. “You’re all like my crunch bug puppets in my show! I am the puppet master!”
The rest of the first two quarters of the game was a blur of Happy pranks, Scream Team missteps, and Frankenstein tackles. Karl kept waving to get the Conundrums’ attention, but they were still shouting into the headsets and paying no mind.
Then a cannon went off with a loud bang.
“What was that?” Dennis asked in shock. All eyes went to Happy as if he were behind the explosion. He grinned.
“Wasn’t me.” Happy laughed. Frank the ref had fired the cannon. Karl realized it was halftime.
It was time to meet Wolfenstein!
Normally, Karl wasn’t a fan of halftime shows. A year ago at the Wolfenstein Bowl, The Squid Screechers screamed the song “I Ink I Love You” while eating a truckful of accordions. And another year, the Blobs did an aerial dramatic reenactment of Paint Drying on Pond Scum.
But nothing would keep Karl from being part of this halftime show. Not even the fact that they were losing the game 8 to 0.
This is it! he thought, clutching the empty BURP jar in one paw. I will finally get to meet Wolfenstein! Moments before Wolfenstein was set to arrive, the Scream Team gathered with the Frankensteins on either side of the 50-yard line. The fog machine clicked on and the laser lights spun. Dr. Neuron came down from his skybox and stood at the podium at center field.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Neuron said into the microphone. “It is my great honor as JCML president to introduce you to the one . . . the only . . . Wolfenstein!”
Dr. Neuron pointed to the ramp leading to the locker rooms as the band started playing “Wail to the Grief.” All of the crowd’s eyes, tentacles, and feelers turned to look at the ramp.
“Here he comes!” someone screamed in the stands.
But instead of Wolfenstein, it was a small snail creature. He emerged from the fog, carrying a paper bag and leaving behind a trail of goo.
“That must be his bodyguard,” Mike whispered to Patsy.
“Shhh,” Karl said. He didn’t want to miss a single second!
Everyone watched as the snail creature inched its way to the podium. It reached its slimy head into the paper bag, grabbed a note with its mouth, and handed it to Dr. Neuron.
Then, with all eyes still on it, the snail began the slow, slimy trip back to the gate, where it disappeared into the fog.
Dr. Neuron opened the note and read it. His tentacles drooped, and he whispered something, then more loudly he said, “Wolfenstein isn’t coming!”
The band screeched to a halt. There were gasps, gulps, and shrieks from the stands.
“Someone sent Wolfenstein a message,” Dr. Neuron said. “It told him that the Muck Bowl had been moved to the middle of the ocean. He’s on a freighter right now heading out to sea.”
Monsters started weeping. Even Frank the Cyclops had what looked like a puddle-sized tear pooling in his one giant eye.
“Who would trick Wolfenstein like this?” Dr. Neuron asked as he gazed up into the stands. “Who? I ask you . . . who?”
The monsters looked at each other’s faces, trying to find the culprit. That was when Happy shouted, “Me! It was me!”
Dr. Neuron’s eyes bugged out a little. Now everyone was staring at Happy. He jumped up and down on the field next to the Scream Team. He seemed to love the attention. “I did it!” he yelled. “I sent the note!”
“Uh . . . ,” Dr. Neuron said, as if he had no idea what to say. “I have an urgent meeting to attend.”
Dr. Neuron hurried away from the podium, hopped into his nearby limo, and was gone in a squeal of tires. He had faced angry crowds before and knew it was time to get out of there.
Karl’s fur stood straight up and he stormed over to Happy. “You!” The werewolf jabbed a paw toward Happy. “Look what you’ve done!”
Happy started to laugh. “Hee hoo—!”
Karl interrupted him. “You knew how important meeting Wolfenstein was to me. I want you off the Scream Team.”
“You can’t always get what you want. You abso-tootly can’t play without me. You’d have to forfeit. It’s in the rules.” Happy started giggling and turned to the audience. “Did you hear what this shaved cat just said?” he yelled to them. “Isn’t that purr-fect, everyone?”
But no one else laughed. The crowd just silently stared at Happy, clearly angry about Wolfenstein not showing.
“Hee hoo hee?” Happy said. But no one responded. His smile cracked. Without the audience cheering him on, he seemed to deflate and his tentacles drooped.
“You don’t even want to be on the Scream Team!” Patsy said. “Why don’t you just quit, Happy?”
“If I quit, I won’t get my crunch bug puppet theater, and . . .” Happy’s voice trailed off like maybe that wasn’t the most important thing anymore. “You love football, Karl. And you’d give it all up just to get me off the team?”
Karl didn’t say anything, he just looked at the empty BURP jar in his hand. Workers had cleared away the podium and were cleaning up the rest of the field. Halftime was almost over.
Happy looked at the jar and stepped closer to Karl. “If you let me destroy the Scream Team now, people will always laugh at you. You and your friends will be a joke forever. And believe me, I know about jokes.”
“Bad jokes,” Karl snarled.
“But,” Happy said, “if you keep playing, I’ll be a real part of the team. I’ll stop trying to destroy you.”
Frank the Cyclops blew his whistle. The second half was about to start.
Karl had to make a decision. Could he trust Happy? Or was this just one more big joke?
“Welcome back to the Wolfenstein Muck Bowl!” Harry Hairwell called from the announcer’s booth. “I’m surprised to see that the Scream Team hasn’t fled the stadium! After that disastrous first half, odds are they’re about to be crushed by the Frankensteins.”
“He’s right,” Karl said as the team gathered near their bench. “We need to score eight points against the toughest team in the league just to tie things up.”
“Does that mean the Scream Team is still together?” J.D. asked hopefully. “And that we’re playing the second half?”
Karl smiled and nodded. The Scream Team cheered.
Holding up a paw, Karl said, “But only if Happy promises to really help out the team.”
“Abso-tootly,” Happy said. “Let me start here.” He walked over to the Conundrums and pulled off their headsets.
“What are you doing?” Coach Wyatt demanded.
“The headsets I gave you are only connected to each other,” Happy explained.
Virgil rubbed his ears and looked at Wyatt. “You mean I’ve been talking to you this whole time?”
“You’re the one who put me on hold for twenty minutes?” Wyatt snapped.
As the Conundrums started bickering again, Karl led the Scream Team out to the field to
kick the ball.
“Come on, Beck,” Karl said. “We need you to kick. Things are different now. Happy won’t make fun of you anymore.”
Beck shook his head. “That hasn’t changed the size of my feet. Or the fact that all the monsters in the stands will still laugh at me.”
In the end, Eric the blob tried kicking but it was more like a bounce. The ball rolled right into the hands of Ali of the Frankensteins. She lumbered down the field slowly. Karl could guess why. She probably thought Happy would keep messing up his own team and that she had all the time in the world.
Out of nowhere, a blur of tentacles tangled itself around her legs. Ali tripped and came crashing down into the muck.
Karl couldn’t believe it. Happy had just tackled the Frankenstein!
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Happy said, getting to his feet. “Hee hoo hee!”
Now that the Frankensteins didn’t have Happy’s help, it wasn’t as easy for them to get a first down. They went three and out, and kicked to the Scream Team.
Karl tried calling running and passing plays, but the Frankensteins’ defense kept driving the Scream Team back. Soon it was fourth and 45 on their own 5-yard line.
Patsy snapped the ball to Karl. He tossed it to Beck in the backfield.
“Punt!” Karl shouted.
Beck hesitated and stumbled backward. Now he was in the Scream Team’s end zone with the ball.
“Beck of the Scream Team has two choices,” Hairy announced. “He can’t run the ball through that wall of Frankensteins. He can punt the ball or get tackled. That would put the Scream Team down by two more points and the game would definitely be over for them.”
Beck paused for one more second. Then he dropped the ball. As if trying to hide his foot, he waited until just before the ball hit the ground, then brought his leg up and punted.
