Boogers from Beyond #3

by M. D. Payne

  “Why are you still in the house?” Shane asked.

  “We were trapped in the South Wing when the fire started,” said Quincy’s father. “We think it was the servants.”

  “But there is no South Wing,” Gordon said.

  “Exactly,” said Quincy.

  “We’re sorry,” I said. “But I think the old monsters are here to stay. All we can do is ask them to behave. And now that we know you’re here, I’ll ask them to do that.”

  “You might want to cover your mouth when you sneeze,” said George, pointing at Ben. “It was such a powerful load of snot that it flew through my eyehole and directly into my eye.”

  All the ghosts shuddered.

  “They hate bogies, too,” said Quincy. “I once dug one out with my finger, and—”

  “Quincy!” Lady Stratford scolded.

  “Got it,” said Ben.

  Quincy waved as the mysterious figures faded away in front of us.

  “Um . . . bye?” said Shane.

  Mysterious Gifts

  Somehow, Director Z convinced us to help out the next night. I think it was punishment for breaking the vase. After we shuffled around school like zombies for the day, we found ourselves standing at the snowy entrance to Gallow Manor once again.

  But something was different.

  “What’s that noise?” asked Ben.

  We all put our ears to the massive wooden door.

  “Are the monsters . . . laughing?” Gordon said, flabbergasted.

  “There’s something else,” said Nabila. “Scratching and whimpering. It sounds like a puppy.”

  She concentrated for a moment.

  “And a kitten.”

  We rang the bell, and soon heard the sound of claws scraping down the hall and toward the door.

  The door swung open, and a cute little brown puppy waddled out onto the welcome mat and started nibbling on Shane’s shoes.

  “Hey,” Shane said, leaning down and patting the dog, “what’s up, dude?”

  “I thought your hearing was flawless,” Gordon scolded Nabila. “Where’s the kitten?”

  From the feet of the Nurse who had answered the door, a small black-and-white kitten hissed at the dog.

  “Friendly little thing,” said Nabila. “I’m still trying to figure out why my ancestors were so in love with cats.”

  Shane shuffled the dog (and us) inside, and the Nurse closed the door.

  “Where did these guys come from?” I asked the Nurse.

  “Grigore,” said the Nurse.

  “Why are you back in your old uniform?” Ben asked. “Your tight uniform?”

  “More comfortable,” said the Nurse.

  “I see,” said Shane, thinking about it as the Nurse walked away.

  The kitten took off down the hallway toward the East Wing. The puppy gave a sharp bark that echoed in the foyer, and chased after the kitten.

  “Careful of the zombies!” I yelled at the furballs, and turned to my friends.

  “They’ll be eaten alive!” I said.

  “I dunno,” said Shane. “Everyone loves puppies and kittens.”

  “Exactly,” said Gordon. “Sooooo tasty!”

  “I wonder if Director Z knows about this yet,” Nabila said.

  “Let’s go talk with Grigore first,” I said.

  We found the batty old vampire in the game room with the huge fireplace. He was talking with Grace, the most with-it of the zombies. She moaned in approval at something he said.

  “Are you guys agreeing on who gets to eat them?” I asked.

  “Oh, no,” said Grigore. “Your mother’s gift is just vonderful. We vouldn’t even think of eating them.”

  “My mother’s gift?” I asked, confused.

  “The puppy and kitten,” said Grigore. “It vas so nice of them to thank us for using the space.”

  “The puppy and kitten are from the PTA?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said Grigore. “They vere at the door this morning. I vas the vone who heard them scratching. They came vith a nice note.”

  “Oh no,” said Ben. “The PTA has no idea what it’s done.”

  “Where’s the note?” I asked, not believing that my mother would send a puppy and kitten—at least not without talking to me first.

  “I don’t know,” said Grigore. “I lost it somevhere vhile ve vere playing.”

  There was a bark in the hallway, and the cat rushed into the room and pounced on Ben. Ben screamed.

  “Nooooo!” He grabbed the cat and tried to pull it off of himself.

  “Claudine!” Grigore stood up and yelled. “Bad kitten! No, Claudine!”

  “They named the cat Claudine?” Gordon asked, chuckling.

  “My allergies!” Ben continued screaming as Grigore pulled the kitten off of him.

  When Grigore finally got the cat off, Ben was covered in cat hair.

  “Get the hair off of me!” said Ben. “Hurry! I’m gonna get hives!”

  We brushed the hair off of Ben while Grigore sat down and stroked Claudine.

  “Grab my inhaler, Nabila!” Ben shrieked. “Hurry!”

  “I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!” she shrieked back.

  She dug around furiously in her fanny pack, and when she finally found the inhaler, she shoved it into Ben’s hand.

  He pulled off the cap, shoved the inhaler into his mouth . . .

  . . . and stopped.

  “Why aren’t you using it?” I asked.

  “I don’t think I need it,” he said. “I’m usually hacking and coughing and wheezing as soon as cat hair hits my skin, but I feel fine.”

  “Maybe it’s one of those hypoallergenic cats?” Nabila said.

  “Hypo-what?” asked Gordon.

  “Cats that are less likely to trigger your allergies,” Nabila said.

  “AHHHH . . .

  “AHHHHHHHHH . . .

  “CHOOOOOO!” sneezed Grigore, and his dentures flew into the fireplace. They jumped out of the flames and chattered out into the hallway, most likely heading down to Grigore’s coffin in the dungeon.

  “Guess not,” said Shane.

  Before we could come up with any more theories, there was a scream from the hallway.

  “You MONSTERS,” said an otherworldly voice. “WE WILL DESTROY YOU!!!”

  Cute and Cuddly Poop Machines

  The room shook violently. A chandelier fell on top of the chessboard, flinging Howie the werewolf and Jimmy the Moth Man back onto the dusty carpet.

  The fire blew out in the fireplace.

  A great roar thundered down the hallway.

  “What is it?” asked Gordon, covering his ears.

  “It’s got to be—” I said.

  “GHOOOOOOOOSTS!” Grigore finished.

  The half dozen old monsters in the game room got up as fast as they could, knocking into one another as they shuffled around the shaking room.

  “Why are you guys scared?” asked Gordon. “Didn’t Director Z tell you what was going on with our ghost friends?”

  The puppy flopped into the room, frightened out of its mind, and right into Nabila’s arms.

  “Yip, yip, yip, yip,” it barked.

  “GET THAT THING OUT OF MY SIGHT!” A voice rattled our teeth, and Quincy’s father floated into the room.

  “Very angry ghost friends,” said Gordon.

  “Father! Father, stop!” Quincy yelled as he floated in after his father.

  But Quincy’s father didn’t stop. He headed right toward Grigore.

  “Noooooo!” Grigore cowered in the corner, holding the kitten tightly. “I don’t even have any teeth. You vouldn’t harm a helpless old vampire vith no teeth, vould you?”

  “Helpless old vampire?” huffed Quincy’s father. “You were the one tha
t brought them into the house. These evil little things.”

  The kitten hissed from Grigore’s arms as Quincy’s father leaned in closer.

  The puppy growled in Nabila’s tight grip.

  “Whoa,” she said. “Settle down.” She tried to calm the dog, but it bit her. “OUCH!”

  She dropped the yipping puppy, and it scurried out of the room.

  “Father,” Quincy tried again. “Leave them alone. You’re worse than Great-Grandfather.”

  “Yeah,” I said, moving next to Quincy. “What’s the big deal! It’s just a puppy and a kitten!”

  “Don’t tell me how to act, boys!” he shouted. “I’m defending our house! Our honor. How dare they bring these creatures into our home . . .”

  His ghostly face turned demonic; fangs poked out over his lips, his eyes glowed red, and he roared into Grigore’s face.

  “Please, sir,” whimpered Grigore. “Please don’t drain me of my juice. Please.”

  “He can’t hurt you,” I yelled at Grigore. “He’s just upset that you’re in his house and you let the dog and cat in.”

  “I can most certainly hurt him,” hissed the demon ghost. “I will scare him until he’s demented.”

  “Too late,” Gordon said, giggling.

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Shane said.

  He moved between the quaking vampire and the upset ghost. The kitten saw the perfect moment for escape and bolted into the hallway.

  “We can work this out,” Shane said in his calmest Zen master voice. He turned to Quincy’s father with his hands up in surrender.

  “I know that you’re upset . . . um . . . ,” he said, “what’s your name?”

  “RICHARD,” roared the ghost.

  “And you have every right to let your feelings be known, Richard,” Shane said calmly. “But I’d ask that you calm down just a little, otherwise Grigore will only hear that you’re screaming, not that you’re saying something.”

  Richard roared again, this time blowing Shane’s hair back.

  “Okay, thank you for listening,” Shane said calmly, and then turned to me.

  “Richard, we didn’t have time to tell the monsters about you,” I said. “I’m sorry. But we were pretty tired yesterday, thanks to your big show at the PTA meeting.”

  “That was fun,” squealed Quincy.

  “Har, har, har,” said Ben.

  “Grigore,” I said, “go find Claudine and Sir Kibblebreath. I’ll have to bring them back to my mother—if it really was the PTA that brought them into the house. They can’t stay here—not if you want to live in this place without being haunted every day.”

  Grigore slowly limped out of the room, and Richard didn’t stop him. The other old monsters followed, Grace the zombie taking a swipe at Richard’s face with an upset groan. His face returned to normal. Well, normal for a ghost, anyway.

  “Now wait a minute,” Lt. Commander Stratford said as he floated into the room. “I don’t think we should be too hasty, Grandson.”

  “Do you really want those beasts strutting around this house?” asked Richard. “You said yourself these old monsters would rain ruin upon our house—letting those terrible creatures into it is certainly a step toward that.”

  “I think, Grandson,” Lt. Commander Stratford said, waving his short sword around the room, “that those beasts will end up doing more harm to the old monsters then they will to us, or our house.”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said the old ghost. “I just think they’ve got something in them.”

  “Yes, they’ve certainly got a lot in them,” said Lady Stratford as she entered the room, Leila in tow. “And quite a lot of it has come out onto our carpets. Disgusting.”

  The puppy and kitten scampered into the room again, and Quincy backed away.

  “I think they’re scary,” said Quincy. “And they make my nose feel funny.”

  Just thinking about it, Quincy sneezed, and snorted up a huge, glowing booger. He went to pick it, when—

  “Quincy!” his mother screeched. “WHAT IN HEAVENS ARE YOU DOING?”

  “Ma,” said Quincy. “Why are you always ruining my fun?”

  “Fiddlesticks,” said his mother. “You should really use a handkerchief! It’s completely uncouth.”

  “This is what’s going to happen,” I said, scooping up the dog. “We’re going to get these guys out of your hair. Then, we’ll introduce you to the Director, and you guys can set some ground rules about the old monsters in the house. Everyone’s gonna be happy, I swear it. Shane, grab the cat.”

  “It was a terrible idea, anyway,” added Ben. “Quincy, let me get a look at that booger . . .”

  “I’ll search the house for stained carpets, and do what I can to scrub up the mess,” Gordon said.

  “Great,” I said. “Nabila, could you help Gordon?”

  Nabila sat in a chair staring off into space. A long string of drool hung from her mouth.

  Nothing to Sneeze At

  “NABILA!” screeched Ben. “What’s going on?”

  “It bit me,” she mumbled. “So badly.”

  “What?” I asked.

  We all rushed over. Her hand was red and swollen.

  “She’s having an allergic reaction to the dog bite,” said Ben, and he unzipped Nabila’s fanny pack. “I just need to get my rash cream, Nabila. And an allergy pill.”

  The Lt. Commander floated over. “See, I told you that there was something special about these mangy little furballs,” he said.

  I looked down at Sir Kibblebreath, and wondered if there was something special about him. He shook his little head in my arms, and some hair floated up into my nose.

  “Ah, ahhhh, ahhhhhhh . . . CHOOOOO!” I sneezed so hard that the glass on the fallen chandelier shook a bit.

  “Yes,” said Richard. “There is something ‘special’ about these animals. Which is exactly why we need to get them out of our home immediately. They’re making me itchy just looking at them.”

  “We’ll leave you to help out your friend,” said the Lt. Commander. “We’ll be back for an update. Unless we see your friend first.”

  “See our friend first?” Gordon asked.

  “Oh, you mean if she dies?” Shane asked.

  “Exactly,” wheezed the old ghost.

  “Great-Grandfather!” squeaked Quincy. “You’re so mean!!!”

  “I’m. Not. Goingtodie.” Nabila gasped. “Feeling better . . . already.”

  “Come on, Grandfather,” said Richard. “They’ve had enough.” Richard sneezed himself out of the room with a huge ACHOOO.

  “And so have I,” came Richard’s voice from the hallway.

  “Where do they go, anyway?” I asked as the rest of the family floated into the hall, some through the open door, and some through the walls.

  Shane sneezed.

  “What the heck is going on?” Ben said. “I’m feeling better than I have in weeks, and everyone else is sneezing or having allergy attacks—even the ghosts!”

  “Okay, everyvone,” Grigore said as he entered the room with a basket. “I’ve found vone of our furry little friends.”

  “Wait, what?” I asked. “We’ve already got Claudine and Sir Kibblebreath.”

  “Huh . . . ,” Grigore said as he put down the basket. “But . . .”

  We all peered into the basket to see . . .

  Another kitten!

  “What the . . .” Gordon was astonished.

  Grigore sneezed, his dentureless lips flapping like a whoopee cushion.

  “Were there two kittens when they arrived?” I asked Grigore.

  “No,” he said. “Just vone. Of each. Two in total.”

  Grigore scratched his bald head, trying to figure it all out.

  “Are you
sure?” I asked.

  “Gentlemen,” said Director Z as he stormed into the room. “Are you responsible for the puppy which is currently in my office?”

  “Nope,” said Shane. “We’re just responsible for this one.”

  “That one looks exactly like him,” said Director Z, pointing at the puppy in my arms. “Yes, that’s the one. How did you get him out of my office? I just locked him in there so he wouldn’t be eaten by the residents.”

  “So there must be two of each,” I replied.

  “What?” asked Director Z, annoyed. “Please tell me what’s going on here. I don’t think it wise to have animals at this facility.”

  “We’re not sure what’s going on,” said Shane, “except that Grigore found a puppy and kitten at the door, with a thank-you note from the PTA. And he brought them in.”

  “Just two, though, I svear!” Grigore said.

  “But then how are there four animals now, Grigore?” demanded Director Z.

  “I don’t know,” whined Grigore.

  “De. Mented,” chirped Gordon.

  “Stop it,” Ben said, and kicked Gordon in the shin.

  “Yeah, you show him,” said Nabila.

  “Feeling better?” I asked Nabila.

  “What happened to Nabila?” asked Director Z.

  “That little beast bit me,” said Nabila, pointing at the puppy. “And I had a very bizarre allergic reaction.”

  “We’ll have the witches take a look at that,” said Director Z. “Or would you like Leech Lady to take a little blood from the wound?”

  “I’ll go see the witches,” said Nabila, and she made her way out of the room.

  “Chris, I need you to get these animals out of the house at once,” Director Z said.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll tell my mother she needs to pick me up early. Maybe we can take them back where she got them. Shane, can you help?”

  “Sure thing,” said Shane. “The sooner the better. I’m starting to get hives.”

  “Gordon and Ben,” said Director Z, “can you please help the chefs prepare dinner? It’s taco night, so things might get messy, between the olives, onions, eye-of-newt, and other toppings crawling all over the place.”