by Mark Tatulli
I can’t believe it! Just as I’m about to grab my note, Scott hands it off to Grub Wasserstein, one of his minions who’s strapped into the ride! Suddenly the brakes of the Swiss Bob shriek and the fake bobsleds lurch forward, taking Grub Wasserstein and my note for Tina with them!
But as the ride picks up speed and Grub Wasserstein flings his arms up, I realize what’s going to happen.
My note escapes into the wind and I race along after it.
And once again, it falls into the hands of the enemy. This time it’s StinkEye Blanchard, . . .
. . . another of Scott’s agents of evil. Proudly waving the note, StinkEye bolts into the Wacky Shack funhouse. I chase after her.
I dash up the stairs and burst through the funhouse door into inky blackness.
I can hear StinkEye’s jittery laugh echoing ahead of me in the dark and I head toward the noise. As I creep forward, I see a shaft of light. Another room.
A maze of mirrors and glass walls!
I can see StinkEye running through the maze with my note, but she’s always on the other side of the glass or just a reflection. Suddenly she smooshes her face into the glass wall right in front of me.
Normally I’m a fan of gross-ocity, but the snot and skin smears StinkEye leaves behind are not something I ever want to see twice in my lifetime!
I make my way through the mirrored halls until I find myself in the funhouse tunnel. I spot StinkEye, just ahead of me!
The problem is the tunnel is spinning and it’s really hard to move in something that’s churning you around like cement in a mixer. StinkEye is definitely better at it. Probably because she has suckers on her hands like an octopus. That’s my theory, anyway.
And just as we’re about to make the trade, the tunnel spins in the opposite direction, . . .
. . . knocking us both on our butts and sending the loose sneaker and note flying around us.
I’m inches away from grabbing the runaway paper and ending this crazy chase when suddenly . . .
. . . the note flies out of the mouth of the tunnel, floats down into the crowd below,
. . . and lands . . .
. . . right at the feet of Tina Schimsky!
9 your attention, please
Tina Schimsky sees the note! She’s going to pick up my note!
The cutest girl in the entire sixth grade at Cloverfield Memorial Junior High School is going to read the note that I wrote to her! My plan just might work out after all!
Once again, Scott Seltzer appears at the worst possible moment! What a talent he has for that! Before Tina can even react, Scott lunges over to the Inflate-A-Baboon game and grabs the barker’s microphone.
“I shall now read from the note of Desmond Pucket, addressed to Tina Schimsky,” Scott’s greasy voice booms out from the giant gray loudspeaker mounted over the game area. The crowd begins to quiet as I watch in helpless horror from the balcony of the Wacky Shack.
Meanwhile, a pier security guy and a handful of the chaperones try to stop Scott, but he scampers up and out of reach. They have no idea the level of advanced dill-weediness they are dealing with.
“Love always and forever, Desmond Pucket!” Scott finishes with a flourish in his best stage actor’s voice.
OK, Scott changed my words to the most embarrassing ones he could think of, but he did get the spirit of the note right. Still, I couldn’t help noticing that Tina cringed during the whole thing.
The crowd turns into one giant laughing mob and Scott bows as he slides down to the ground and into the hands of the angry chaperones.
The laughter grows louder and I start to formulate Plan C: My Escape from Crab Shell Pier.
“Your attention, please,” a different voice suddenly crackles out of the speakers, cutting through the howls of laughter. “Your attention, please!”
The crowd hushes.
10 mountain full of monsters, part one
Too good to be true! Tina Schimsky and me! Together! On the Mountain Full of Monsters ride! Is this really happening?
I decide to ignore the beasties.
Stomach failure is not an option when you’re standing next to the girl of your dreams and about to go on the greatest amusement ride in the world.
And there it is . . .
For a second, I just stand there and gasp at all this amazing monsterly awesomeness, this gargantuan beast of a spook–house mountain, crawling with moving animatronic creatures, ghosts, skulls, claws, and tentacles! A huge animated dragon, whose giant snake-like body coils around the entire mountain, sporadically spews fire and smoke with a loud . . .
. . . momentarily hushing the excited crowd waiting on line.
The coolest thing is, the Mountain Full of Monsters used to be just an old rollercoaster called the Wild Mouse.
The pier folks built fake rocks and caves around it; they made a mountain out of a mouse hill as the saying sort of goes.
Then they filled the mountain with every kind of animated bugaboo, bogie man, goblin, and ghoul they could find from old out-of-business haunted house rides. A recycled horror show, I guess you could say. And I totally mean that with respect!
Good point.
Luckily, Ricky appears before I can say anything else stupid.
“Hey, dudes,” he says, smiling his goofy Ricky smile that he saves for awkward situations, like whenever he’s around girls, “I got four tickets. We should get in line.”
The other ticket, of course, is for Becky DeWicky, who is giving me a look like I just ate her last tater tot.
I look over at Ricky who is using his Whoopee cushion to clear a path through the long line of kids.
“Well, he is going to get us onto the ride faster, that’s for sure.”
I walk forward and stand next to Tina. As we get closer to the front of the line, I can see she is getting nervous. The rickety cars roar around the tracks, in and out of caves, and screams echo over the creepy organ music. Now Tina’s biting her fingers. Should I reach for her hand? Would that be too weird? What should I do?
Suddenly my brain jumps back in time . . . girl advice from the old man:
Holy crud, that was useless! It’s a wonder Dad ever married anyone! I squeeze my eyes tight to try and shake away the memory when suddenly . . .
. . . the dragon lets loose a humongous fireball and
Well, what do you know? Who would’ve thought the best move would be . . . nothing at all.
When Ricky sees me and Tina holding hands, he decides to make his move. And Becky makes hers.
Poor Ricky! I’m going to have to give him some pointers.
Finally, we get to the front of the line and it’s our turn to board the Mountain Full of Monsters. It’s all happening just as I dreamed! As the little car pulls in front of us I try to memorize everything about it . . .
. . . because I want to remember every detail of the greatest day of my life, for the rest of my life!
I jump in the car, fasten my safety harness, and when I turn to help Tina—
This ride is about to be scarier than I thought.
11 mountain full of monsters, part two
“Yes, Mr. Pucket, it didn’t take me long to figure out your little text message from Principal Badonkus was a fake,” Mr. Needles says triumphantly from the seat that Tina Schimsky is supposed to be sitting in.
I don’t believe it! Mr. Needles bumped Tina out of the line and cut in! And now he’s about to pull me off the Mountain Full of Monsters ride and ruin everything!
But just as Mr. Needles is yanking me out, his foot gets tangled in the safety strap. Even as he tugs and pulls, our little pretzel car lurches forward to begin its journey into the dark mountain.
“You can’t, sir, the ride is already in motion,” yells the operator. “You have to sit! You are endangering the other pas
sengers and violating park rules!”
Realizing that our car is now almost at the cave entrance, Mr. Needles obediently drops into his seat and pulls the strap tight.
“I don’t want to break the rules,” Mr. Needles says to me, nervously. “You’re already in enough trouble as it is!”
I peek over and suddenly it dawns on me . . .
I turn around for one last look at the gang.
Well . . . this not exactly going as I had planned, but at least I’m finally experiencing the Mountain Full of Monsters! And it’s going to be awesome, even with Mr. Needles next to me making little nervous baby sniffly noises.
The car approaches the skull entrance and bang!
We punch through the doors and into the pitch dark!
Our little car suddenly bursts through the exit doors and the ride’s brakes squeal, jerking us to an abrupt stop. The car eases forward to let us out, pick up the new passengers, and the whole thing will start again.
It’s over! I’ve done it! I’ve gone on the Mountain Full of Monsters! I haven’t written my full review yet, but it will go something like this:
12 there and back again
I excitedly jump out of the car, ready to get back in line and do it all again. I quickly look around and then—
Out come Ricky and Becky, with the same blown-away look that I’m wearing . . . but no sign of Tina anywhere.
“Holy crud, Desmond!” Ricky says, grabbing me, his face the color of a cherry slushie. “What did we just go through?!”
“I know, right? Did you see the giant spider and graveyard of zombies and that crazy snow monster?!”
“And how about the exploding volcano!” Becky chimes in. “And the avalanche and the burning lake of fire!”
“I’ve got like a bajillion new ideas for my next Monster Magic event! Let’s go on it again!”
“Well, maybe she’ll see me in line. I’m going back in and this time I’m taking notes!”
“Nice hair, Needles!” laughs Principal Badonkus, who walks up from behind surprising us both. “Looks like you’ve been busy sharing a fun time with the children! What a team player! Good show!”
“Yes, news!” I jump in. “I have a great new idea for another Monster Magic show and Mr. Needles has been encouraging my creativity by taking me on the Mountain Full of Monsters ride!”
“Now just a second, Pucket—” sputters Mr. Needles.
“Yes! Another monster show!” booms Principal Badonkus. “Brilliant! That last one was such a success for the school it paid for this entire class trip! Keep it up, Needles!”
“Go on that Mountain Full of Monsters ride with Desmond as many times as you have to, Needles! You are making great strides forward in positive student–faculty relations! We’re all counting on you! Well done, sir! Well done!”
Mr. Needles and I go on Mountain Full of Monsters nine more times. He stops screaming after the seventh time because he has no voice left. But I love every second!
OK, so the Mountain Full of Monsters ride doesn’t go down exactly as I always dreamed . . .
But even with Mr. Needles next to me screaming and almost puking, it’s a pretty amazing experience.
And the day isn’t over yet! Mr. Needles is clearly suffering from coaster-overdose, so I Ieave him groaning on a bench near the Frozen Sour Gummy Worms stand. There’s still time to get in one last Mountain Full of Monsters ride, and I start looking around for Tina.
And that’s when I see the new sign . . .
13 the bad news
“. . . if you want to know why the ride is closing, ask the guy who closes the rides!”
“So who’s the guy who closes the rides?”
“Hey, what do I know, kid? Like I said—”
“Yeah, I know, I know. You’re the guy who puts up the signs.” Note to self: if I ever need a sign guy, I know where to go.
“I think you’re catching on, kid,” the sign guy says as he walks away. “But you might want to ask up at the pier management office . . .”
“You don’t think they’d close the dunking tank, too, do you? That thing is my future dream job!”
And suddenly we’re stopped dead in our tracks.
It’s Tina Schimsky’s best friend, Sheila Cutter! As usual, I’m completely flabbergasted whenever one of the popular kids talks to me. Or knows my first name, not to mention my last name, too!
“Who, me?”
“Yes, you! Tina was looking for you everywhere to go on that stupid monster ride! What happened?”
“Oh, I, uh . . .”
“He went on the ride ten times with Mr. Needles!” offers Ricky. “Mr. Needles has this special bracelet that lets them go to the front—”
“I had to go on the ride with Mr. Needles!” I explain. “Principal Badonkus was watching!”
“Yeah, I bet her dad had to come because she chickened out!” laughs Ricky. “Tina looked like she saw a ghost just standing in the line!”
“That’s as much as you know, doofus!” Sheila shouts in Ricky’s face. “She got sick!”
Sheila hands me a small piece of folded paper and walks away, totally ignoring the rude noises Ricky is making.
A note. A note from Tina Schimsky! To me!
I start to open the crinkled page when—
Not this time, Scott!
Like I always say: never leave home without extra rubber body parts and plenty of fake blood! And in a great diving play, Ricky grabs the note that Scott tossed.
Yeah, super-villain Scott Seltzer’s one weakness: he’s totally squeamish!
Once we’re a safe distance from El Creepo, we stop running and Ricky hands me the note.
“Whoa,” says Ricky who is reading over my shoulder. “Nice penmanship.”
“Ricky, look at the heart . . . what do you think that means?”
“It means she likes you, dude!”
“. . . while you’re making that happen, I’ll be waiting for you back on planet Earth.”
“I have to at least see why they’re closing it, Ricky! Look, there’s the management office . . .”
Suddenly I feel a tug on my shirt and my feet lift off the ground . . .
“No ‘buts’ this time, mister! I saw the blood and Scott Seltzer told me everything that happened!” I turn around and see Scott laughing at me, fake blood all over his face!
“How lucky for you, Mr. Pucket! Now you’ll have plenty of time to plot your next monster magic project in Jug! Principal Badonkus will be so pleased!”
14 jug
“Jug” is short for the Latin word jugum, which means yoke, which is that giant wooden thing that goes on the cow’s neck to pull a cart or a plow or something. But at Cloverfield Memorial Junior High, Jug has one meaning . . . “detention.”
Or if you’re me, it means hour after hour of sitting in one place while Scott Seltzer throws bits of whatever’s in his pockets at your head.
Yeah, Scott’s sitting Jug too, because we both got thrown out for fighting. But I know Scott doesn’t care about missing the rest of the day at Crab Shell Pier.
It’s been four hours in this hard seat, and I’m starting to lose the feeling in my butt. That’s when I see Ricky in the hallway, waving for me. The class trip must be over!
I have this theory that the school punishes the lame teachers by making them sit with the kids who have to sit Jug. Which is why Mr. Turkle, the sleepiest teacher at Cloverfield, is usually in that chair.
“What . . . uh . . . Desmond Pucket, yes,” Mr. Turkle says groggily, pawing at the attendance sheet. “What is it you are asking for?”
Good ol’ Scott! He comes through again!
