by David Lubar
Before I knew it, the day was almost over. “Well,” Nanny Flugle said, “you children have given me a most magical experience. And now, it is my pleasure to return the favor. Some folks say that all children are animals.” Her voice dropped close to a whisper. “But this is not a bad thing. It can be wonderful to be an animal.”
She looked straight at me. “Child, you are brave and beautiful. You are an eagle.” She wove her hands in a strange pattern. I felt dizzy for a moment.
I gripped the edge of the chair with my claws.
I spread my wings.
I flew.
It was glorious. I felt that I could soar and fly forever. But I knew it wasn’t meant to last. I returned to the garden. She made her magic again and I was a girl. But I was a girl who had known the world through the eyes of an eagle.
Then Danny became a chimpanzee. I’m sure he loved it. He did stunts and climbed and frolicked until his turn ended. It was wonderful to see. Everyone watched, amazed and amused, and, if they were like me, just a tiny bit scared. Except for Ronald, who still had his face buried in the food.
Then April became a deer. Beth, who loved to swim, became a fish in the small pond at the edge of the garden. Mark, who is quiet and extremely smart, became a fox.
“Come visit again,” Nanny Flugle said after she made Mark into a boy once more.
“Hey! What about me?” Ronald looked up from the pretzel bowl, his face full of anger, his mouth full of food. “Don’t I get a turn?”
Nanny Flugle smiled. “If you insist,” she said.
“Yeah. I insist.” He pointed at us. “They got turns. It’s not fair if I don’t.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Nanny Flugle did her magic again.
“Yeeeeek!” April said again.
“Ick,” I said.
Ronald had become a giant slug. I had to admit that Nanny Flugle had a knack for picking the right animal for each of us.
Danny reached toward the salt shaker. “I’m tempted,” he said.
But I knew he was joking. None of us would do something to hurt anyone. Well, maybe Ronald would, but he was in no position to do much of anything.
At that moment, Ronald slid off his chair and hit the ground with a sluggy splat. I waited for him to crawl around or do something interesting, but he quivered like a nervous tower of Jell-O. Then he started jerking around.
“Oh dear,” Nanny Flugle said. She went over and picked up the empty bowl by Ronald’s seat. “He certainly did eat a lot of pretzels. Salty pretzels.”
I looked at Ronald, whose slug stomach was stuffed with salt. He was shrinking before my eyes, getting smaller and full of wrinkles. I had a funny feeling he’d eaten his last snack. That made me sad.
“Cheer up,” Nanny Flugle said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure you can find another catcher for your ball games.”
I guess she could read minds, too.
SNAKELAND
This vacation stinks,“Jason said for about the hundredth time that day from his prison in the backseat of the family car.
“Now, Jay,” his mom said, looking over her shoulder, “you’ll never have any fun with that kind of attitude.”
“Why can’t we go somewhere good? There’s nothing to do out here.” He waited, but she didn’t answer. He couldn’t believe they’d actually gone to a desert for vacation. A stupid desert. All this sand was useless without an ocean. It was a giant waste of time.
“Hey, see that sign?” his dad asked from his seat of power behind the steering wheel. “It’s only four miles to Snakeland. Now that sounds like a fun place to stop. You like snakes, don’t you, Jayboy?”
Jason grunted, not wanting to admit that anything on this trip could interest him.
“Okeydokey, let’s go.” Jason’s dad turned onto the next exit ramp. He glanced toward his wife. “Do you mind?”
“I guess not.”
They drove several more miles, traveling past lots of sand and little else. Up ahead, Jason spotted two buildings jutting out of the empty landscape. The sign in front of the farther one said DESERT VIEW MOTEL. Pretty hard not to have a desert view anywhere around here, Jason thought. The other building must be Snakeland. There was a sign between the two buildings, near the edge of the road, but it was facing the other way.
“What a dump,” Jason said as they pulled into the empty Snakeland parking lot. Secretly, he was pleased by the thought that the place would disappoint his parents. Maybe a couple of bad tourist experiences would teach his dad a lesson about picking vacation spots.
“I think it’s closed,” his mom said, looking around.
His dad pointed to a handwritten sign that said OPEN. They walked to the door. It was unlocked. Jason noticed large words freshly painted on the outside wall of the building: COMING SOON—THE TERROR OF THE AMAZON.
Probably an anaconda, Jason thought. That would be neat to see. He’d read about those giant snakes in school. They grew to be over twenty feet long. He’d heard they could swallow other animals up whole. But there wouldn’t be anything that good here. Not on this stupid vacation, and certainly not in this ridiculous roadside ripoff. Jason followed his parents into the building, where warm, damp air fell over him like a wool blanket.
“Welcome to Snakeland.” A man rose from a chair against the far wall and came forward, looking at them as if he was starving and they were lunch. “Please come in. A fabulous assortment of our slithery friends await your visit. And your timing is perfect. We have a special bargain today—one child free with any two adult admissions.”
“I’m not a child,” Jason muttered, stepping away from the man.
“What a deal,” his dad said as he pulled out his wallet.
“Wonderful, wonderful,” the man said, reaching eagerly for the money. “My stupendous serpents are anxious to meet you. They are lovely, yes they are. But it pains me to tell you that my fabulous new display is not quite ready. Soon, any day, but not yet. No, not yet. Still, there is much here for you to see. “Go,” he said, sweeping his right hand toward the far wall, “and see all the wonders of my reptile companions. Be sure to spend time with Percy the Python.”
Jason walked through a door at the other end of the room and headed toward the exhibits. Behind him, he could still hear the man talking. “Not just snakes,” he called after Jason. “Lizards, too, and even spiders. Far-flung samples of critters large and small. New exhibits all the time.”
“Thrilling,” Jason said, shaking his head. He suspected he’d have had a better time staying home all summer. This place certainly couldn’t be any fun. As he’d expected, Snakeland wasn’t much more than a bunch of glass tanks holding snakes and other creatures. It was like a trip to a small zoo. Percy the Python was half interesting. He was pretty big, but he didn’t do anything. He just lay at the bottom of his pit like a bloated garden hose.
But something else caught Jason’s interest. Next to a door at the end of a hall, he saw another sign. Like the ad on the front of the building, this sign announced the Terror of the Amazon. At the bottom was a warning: NOT RECOMMENDED FOR SMALL CHILDREN. Jason decided it wouldn’t hurt to sneak a quick peek, even if the exhibit wasn’t ready yet. He started to open the door.
“Feeding time!”
Jason yanked his hand away from the knob and spun around. There was Mr. Reptile, or whatever his name was, holding a pair of cages filled with squirming white rats. The man was grinning. “Well, how about that? You are one lucky boy. They don’t eat every day, you know. Nope. They’re not like us. But today is the day. And you get to watch. No extra charge.”
Jason shrugged. It beat looking at another dose of this endless scenic desert splendor. One more gorgeous sunset and he was sure he would lose his lunch. He followed the man and watched the rats start the long process of becoming snake turds. Jason didn’t feel at all sorry for the rodents. Some creatures were just meant to be food. That’s life. “What about him?” Jason asked, pointing to the large python in a pit behind an
iron fence.
“Maybe Percy will eat tonight,” the man said. “Feeding time is over for now. Run along.”
Jason finished his tour, then met up with his folks. As they were looking through the small gift shop, Jason’s dad asked the man, “How’s that motel up the road?”
“Just fine. Absolutely fine and dandy. Best motel around here. Only motel around here.”
“Good. It’s about time to stop for the day.” Jason’s dad led his family to the parking lot.
Jason looked at the cheap piece of junk he’d bought in the gift shop—a rattlesnake skull complete with fangs. “Probably died of boredom,” Jason muttered as he stuck the skull in the front pocket of his shorts.
Behind them, the man was calling, “Come back soon and see the Terror of the Amazon. We’re always adding new attractions. Tell your friends.”
He kept talking, but his voice faded as they got in the car and drove off.
After a day in the desert heat and an hour in the dankness of Snakeland, Jason was dying for a swim.
“Where’s the pool?” he asked the man at the desk.
“No pool,” the man said.
“That figures,” Jason muttered. As he soon found out, the motel didn’t even have cable. It did have enough empty rooms so Jason got his own next door to his parents.
“This really rots,” he shouted, dumping his suitcase on the bed. He looked out the window. There it was, that sign, advertising the Terror of the Amazon. Jason had come so close to getting into the display, he had to satisfy his curiosity. He knew his folks would go to sleep early. He just needed to wait … .
That night, when he was sure his parents were asleep, Jason slipped from his room. Even after a week in the desert, Jason still wasn’t used to how cool it grew at night. He shivered as he crossed the sand toward Snakeland. For a moment, he considered going back and changing from shorts to jeans. But it didn’t seem worth bothering for such a brief trip. Despite what his mom might say, a couple of minutes in shorts wouldn’t kill him.
The door was still unlocked. “Hello?” Jason said, stepping inside. If the man caught him, Jason planned to explain that he was coming back to see him feed the python.
Straight ahead, Jason thought, left, down the hall, then right. He remembered the path to the closed room. It was just past the python. He made his way, using the moonlight that came through the windows. There was the door, straight ahead. Nothing else lay between him and the Terror of the Amazon.
“Feeding time!”
Arms wrapped around Jason, pinning his elbows to his chest. He struggled and kicked. “Let me go!”
“Time to feed the python. Percy gets tired of rabbit. You’re a lucky boy. You get to watch for free,” the man said, his mouth just inches from Jason’s right ear. He dragged Jason toward the pit. “Even better, you get to watch from the inside.” He started laughing.
Jason twisted and jerked, trying to break loose. His hand hit against his pocket, striking a hard and sharp object. The skull! He yanked it free and jabbed the fangs into the man’s hand.
The man yelped and jerked his arm back. Jason, suddenly free, stumbled forward. He knew he couldn’t get past the man. He raced away from him, toward the door that held the Terror of the Amazon.
He could hear the man chasing him.
Jason pushed at the door. It moved an inch, then stuck.
“No!” the man yelled.
Jason slammed his shoulder against the door. It flew open. His momentum carried him through. His first step landed on the floor. His second step met nothing but air. Jason screamed as he fell. For a sickening second he was weightless, too surprised to brace himself for whatever waited below.
A heartbeat later, Jason hit water. He went under, then splashed to the surface, coughing and choking. As he thrashed his arms, he heard the man shouting. Jason looked desperately for another door. Nothing on either side. He looked across the pool. A sheet covered the wall in front of him. Maybe there was an exit behind it.
“Get out of there!” the man yelled. “Right now!”
“No way,” Jason said. With a few strong strokes, he swam to the other side. He reached to pull himself out. The floor was too high above his head. Jason barely got his hands over the edge. As he tried to struggle out, he banged his bare knee against the side of the pool. The pain was so intense, he lost his grip and fell back.
His knee stung as the water hit the wound. He reached desperately toward the edge and grabbed a handful of soft fabric. He pulled. The sheet ripped from the wall, revealing another crude, hand-painted sign.
For an instant, Jason stared at the sign. For an instant, he froze. Maybe, if he had moved sooner, things would have been different.
Large, red letters exclaimed: THE TERROR OF THE AMAZON. SEE THEM HERE. LIVE PIRANHAS. KILLER FISH THAT CAN STRIP A COW IN SECONDS. FEEDINGS AT NOON AND EIGHT. At the bottom, there was a painting of an animal, perhaps a cow, its eyes impossibly wide with fear, thrashing in a river while the water churned and boiled in fury.
Jason felt a hundred sharp stings at once.
Across the room, the man closed the door.
BURGER AND FRIES
My dad owns Jumbo Burger. This is kind of cool since just about everyone eats there. It’s also a pain at times because he makes me work on the weekends. Despite this minor violation of the child labor laws, our family was the picture of small town happiness, just me and Mom and Dad, living the good life selling fatty hunks of fried meat to the pleasant people of Spring Junction. Then, in less than one short month, everything changed.
The first sign of trouble appeared when I was walking home from school with my friend Tony. “Hey, Jake, what’s going on over there?” Tony asked. We were passing the corner by Winchel’s Mini-Mart. The store had been empty for years, ever since the big supermarket opened up across the highway. Now, the whole lot was level. Someone had come in with a bulldozer and scraped the building off the face of the earth the way you might scrape a scab from your arm.
“Beats me.” I shrugged. “Maybe they’re putting in a new store.”
“I hope it’s a comic-book store,” Tony said.
“Or a hobby shop. You know—one with a slot-car track.” I thought about how great that would be. But it was more likely whatever they put up would be a convenience store.
We walked past the spot, discussing all sorts of wonderful shops we’d like to see built there.
“Want to grab a bite?” I asked when we reached Jumbo Burger.
“Sure. You don’t think I hang around with you for the company, do you?”
“I always knew your friendship could be bought with burgers.” I also knew he was kidding.
We went into the back and I grabbed a couple burgers from the grill. “Hey,” Davey, the cook, said. “Make your own next time or I’ll murder you.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I liked Davey. He’d been flipping burgers for my dad for years. He must have been about eighty. He’d cook all day, just stopping whenever he could to sneak out back and smoke his awful little cigars. They smelled like burning skunk tails. I don’t see how anybody could do that for pleasure. His lungs must have looked like the inside of a fireplace. But he was a neat guy. He wasn’t just a cook, either. He could repair most of the appliances in the kitchen and do plumbing and wiring and all sorts of stuff. I once saw him fix a customer’s car using nothing but a piece of tape and a plastic fork.
I snatched a couple of sodas, with lots of ice to help us cool down from the heat. It was way warmer than usual for this time in May, and I was dripping with sweat after spending just a moment next to the grill. I took the food to one of the booths. Tony and I stuffed our faces, then headed out to see what was happening in town. When we went past the corner lot, there was a sign stuck in the ground: MONSTER BURGERS—COMING SOON.
“Monster burgers?” I said, wanting to kick down the sign. I settled for throwing a clod of dirt at it. “They can’t do that. There isn’t enough business in town for another burger pla
ce. And we were here first.”
“Don’t worry,” Tony said, “no one will go there.”
Boy, was he wrong.
The rest of the building went up almost as fast as the sign. By the end of the week, Monster Burgers was open for business. And they were selling their biggest burger, the Monster Triple-Decker Meat Slab, for half the price of our own Jumboriffic Jawbuster. Within two weeks, Jumbo Burger looked like a ghost town.
“I can’t figure it out,” my dad said, leaning on the counter and staring out at a room full of empty booths. “There’s no way they can possibly sell burgers for that price. If I did that, I’d be out of business in a week. I have to find out what they’re doing.” He grabbed a ten from his wallet and handed it to me. “Go buy some of their burgers and bring them back.”
“Sure, Dad.” I went down to the corner and joined the crowd waiting to be served at Monster Burgers. There were four registers on the counter, with a person behind each. Five more people shuffled around in the back filling the orders. There was one guy out front, mopping the floor. Whatever he was using, it made the place smell like a hospital. When it was my turn, the guy behind the counter looked at me like I wasn’t even there—or maybe like he wasn’t even there.
He just stared at me and waited for my order. It wasn’t exactly the warmest service I’d ever experienced.
“Uh, give me a Triple Slab, a Hunkburger, and a couple of Mini-meats,” I said, ordering a variety of items. I scanned the menu board to see if there was anything else I should get. “What’s in a Screaming Chicken Sandwich?” I asked.
“Chicken,” the guy said without any change of expression on his pale face.
“How about in the Giant Shrimp Basket?”
“Shrimp.”
“Does that come with fries?”
“Fries,” he said.
“And I suppose the Blood-Rare Roast Beef Club has roast beef?” I asked.
The guy nodded and said, “Beef.”
I could see I wasn’t going to get much information from him. “That’s all,” I said, deciding to just get the burgers.
