by Steve Cole
Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Dedication
Map of Trashland
Once Upon a Slime . . .
Chapter One: A Sinister “Something”
Chapter Two: The Fabric Thieves
Chapter Three: Socks Run Amok
Chapter Four: Enter . . . Conk-Whopper
Chapter Five: Sock Hunt
Chapter Six: Shock Sock Confessions
Chapter Seven: The Big Squeeze
Chapter Eight: State of Sock
Chapter Nine: The Plan and the Peril
Chapter Ten: It’s a Sock-Out
About the Author
Also by Steve Cole
Copyright
About the Book
Plog, Furp, Zill and Danjo aren’t just monsters in a rubbish dump. They are crime-busting super-monsters, here to save their whiffy world!
There’s trouble afoot in Whiffsville! Giant fire-breathing sock monsters are on the rampage. Can the Slime Squad fight these foul fashion freaks before Trashland is destroyed?
For Helen and James Grice
ONCE UPON A SLIME . . .
The old rubbish dump was far from anywhere. An enormous, mucky, rusty landscape of thousands of thrown-away things.
It had been closed for years. Abandoned. Forgotten.
And then Godfrey Gunk came along.
Godfrey wasn’t just a mad scientist. He was a SUPER-BONKERS scientist! And he was very worried about the amount of pollution and rubbish in the world. His dream was to create marvellous mutant mini-monsters out of chemical goo – monsters who would clean up the planet by eating, drinking and generally devouring all types of trash. So Godfrey bought the old rubbish dump as the perfect testing-ground and got to work.
Of course, he wanted to make good, friendly, peaceful monsters, so he was careful to keep the nastiest, most toxic chemicals separate from the rest. He worked for years and years . . .
And got nowhere.
In the end, penniless and miserable, Godfrey wrecked his lab, scattered his experiments all over the dump, and moved away, never to return.
But what Godfrey didn’t know was that long ago, tons of radioactive sludge had been accidentally dumped here. And soon, its potent powers kick-started the monster chemistry the mad scientist had tried so hard to create!
Life began to form. Amazing mini-monsters sprang up with incredible speed. Bold, inventive monsters, who made a wonderful, whiffy world for themselves from the rubbish around them – a world they named Trashland.
For many years, they lived and grew in peace. But then the radiation reached a lead-lined box in the darkest corner of the rubbish dump – the place where Godfrey had chucked the most toxic, dangerous gunk of all.
Slowly, very slowly, monsters began to grow here too.
Different monsters.
Evil monsters that now threaten the whole of Trashland.
Only one force for good stands against them. A small band of slightly sticky superheroes . . .
The Slime Squad!
Chapter One
A SINISTER “SOMETHING”
Night had fallen over Trashland like a giant’s shadow. The moon was lost behind clouds, and yet the skies over the town of Whiffsville held an eerie, flickering glow . . .
A big factory was on fire!
Flames licked at the darkness. The streets around were all but lost in a thick cloud of smoke. Monster workers, their blue skin blackened with soot, staggered out of the factory, coughing and choking.
“Help!” one monster yelled at the top of her lungs. “My friends are trapped inside . . . Can’t anybody help us?”
“They certainly can,” came a froggy voice from out of the darkness. “Let fear disappear – the Slime Squad is here!” With a rattle of metal pants, a pale yellow frog-monster in a crash helmet landed beside her. “Furp LeBurp, at your service, madam.”
“I’m Jurley, the factory boss,” said the monster. “My team and I were working the night shift when this fire started up out of nowhere.”
“Don’t worry.” Furp leaped onto the side of the smouldering building and started scaling the wall with his slimy hands and feet. “The super-scanner in my helmet will soon show me exactly where your friends are stuck.”
“And then what?” Jurley fretted.
“And then WE will save them,” came a booming voice.
Jurley jumped as a large, crimson crab-monster in golden shorts came striding up on three stocky legs. “You . . . you’re Danjo Jigg. The Slime Squad really is here!”
“In the ever-loving, baddie-shoving flesh,” Danjo agreed, snapping his powerful pincers. “Sorry for the hold-up – we’ve just been clearing everyone away from the area.”
“Right!” A sharp-snouted she-monster in a golden leotard swung into sight on the end of a sticky slime-rope and landed beside Danjo. “If we don’t get this fire under control fast, the whole of Whiffsville could go up in smoke.”
“Zill Billie!” Jurley stared – one part poodle and two parts atomic skunk, the Slime Squad’s third member was instantly recognizable. “But . . . what if you can’t stop the flames? It’s the fourth fire at one of my fabric factories in as many days.”
“We’ll sort everything out,” Danjo assured her. “Even now, our leader is inspecting the whole building, checking out the blaze from all angles, staying cool and calm while he plans our next move—”
“Arrrrrrrrrrgh!” A burly, orangey bear-rat monster in heavy iron boots came hurtling out of the blazing factory, trailing smoke behind him as he ran in frantic circles. “My tail’s on fire! My tail’s on fire! Arrrrrgh!”
“This is Plog.” Danjo grinned at Jurley. “As leaders go, he’s smokin’ hot!”
Zill stuck out one of her six legs and tripped up Plog.
“Oof!”
Then Danjo raised his right pincer and scooshed icy slime over Plog’s behind, putting out the fire.
“Ahhhhhhhhh,” sighed Plog, his bottom gently steaming. He wore a threadbare waistcoat and trousers, and a mask made from Danjo’s old shorts. He looked up at Jurley and smiled. “You’d better get to safety. Tackling this blaze is a job for the Slime Squad.”
“I thought your job was fighting evil monsters!” said Jurley.
Plog nodded thoughtfully. It was hard to believe that, up until a few months ago, evil monsters had been unheard of in Trashland. In those days, the Slime Squad had gentler duties like rescuing trapped insects or sorting out traffic jams. But then an evil mutant chicken-thing called Lord Klukk had turned up with a horde of toxic, terrifying allies, determined to take over Trashland – and the Slime Squad’s new mission was to stop these baddies at any cost!
“There are definitely monsters still stuck inside this building,” Furp reported from the smouldering wall. “My scanner is showing their precise location . . . But how can we help them?”
“The fire is blocking all ways in and out at ground level,” said Plog ruefully, clutching his tail. “Furp, what state is the roof in?”
Furp climbed right to the top of the building and peered through the smoke. “There’s a massive hole in its middle. It’s completely burned away.”
“Perfect!” Plog declared. “Zill, get up there. Quickly!”
Zill spat a slime-line all the way to the top of the wall and swiftly scaled it. Plog and Danjo climbed after her, their arms and legs aching, their lungs prickling with every smoky breath.
The flames were rising up from the giant cardboard construction. Plog thought about the workers stuck inside and forced himself to climb faster.
As they scrambled onto the roof, Plog turned to Zill. “Spit a slime-strand at
Furp!” he urged her.
“Why, what have I done?” Furp protested. But Zill did as she was told, sending a slightly smoky slime-strand clear across the hole in the roof. It stuck securely to the other side.
“There! An instant tightrope.” Plog turned to Danjo. “I only hope that you are a good tightrope walker!”
Danjo boggled. “You want me to step out and balance over that enormous hole?”
“Yep. And then I want you to squirt as much icy slime in the air as you can,” Plog told him. “Hopefully that slimy sprinkler will put out the fire!”
“But that’ll take time,’ Zill realized. “What do we do about the poor monsters trapped down there?”
“Furp will show us where they are,” said Plog. “If you and I attach ourselves to two of your stickiest, stretchiest slime-lines, we can bungee jump down into the factory, grab them—”
“And bounce straight back out again with the workers safely in our arms!” Zill beamed. “Smart thinking, Fur-boy. Let’s do it!”
Danjo was already balanced precariously in the middle of the slimy tightrope, spraying blue slime in an icy shower. The flames below hissed and sizzled in the downpour.
Zill spun two long slime-lines for Plog and herself, and secured one end of each to the roof. Plog tied the other end of his slimy bungee cord around his waist while Zill did the same with hers.
Checking his scanner, Furp steered Zill into a particular position at the edge of the hole. “There should be two workers directly beneath you here . . .”
“Not for long!” Zill leaped through the hole in the roof, falling down into the smoky blackness.
“Geronimoooo-onster!” A few seconds later, her bungee cord catapulted her straight up and out again with her poodly legs wrapped around a stunned, sooty blue character.
“Yessss!” Furp jumped and caught them both in midair, delivering them safely to the side of the hole with a CLOMP and a clatter. “Rescue stage one complete!”
“I’m Noodle,” said the worker weakly. “Please, save my friend Horace. Some shelves fell on him. I’ve been trying to dig him out.”
“On my way,” Zill cried. She jumped down again, reappearing moments later with Horace in her grasp, collapsing on the scorched cardboard ledge. “There!”
“Yahoo!” Wobbling wildly on the tightrope, still pumping out ice-slime, Danjo beamed at them through the smoke. “Way to go, guys!”
Plog gave Zill a thumbs-up. “And now it’s my turn . . .”
Furp nodded. “If you take two steps to your left, my dear Plog, you should find a rather bigger worker waiting for rescue.”
“Er . . . I don’t think there’s anyone else inside,” said Noodle, still tangled up in Zill’s paws. “All the other workers got out in time.”
“My scanner says differently,” Furp assured him.
“I’ll drop in and find out for sure,” said Plog. “Here goes . . .”
Taking a deep breath, he jumped down into the hot, smoky darkness. Danjo’s sprinkler was taking effect, but the flames were still frighteningly fierce. The slime-line round Plog tautened and stretched, slowing his fall. He reached out blindly to grab another blue factory worker . . .
But his arms closed on something very different. Something huge and lumpy and woollen. Something cold and horrid to the touch. Plog’s nose twitched as a whiff of mouldy cheese and cabbage and wet, sweaty armpits filled the air.
The sinister something wriggled and writhed in his grip. “Hey, I’m only trying to help!” Plog protested. He caught a glimpse of red skin in the flickering firelight – then gasped as his slimy bungee cord snapped and the ‘something’ slammed him to the ground.
With a rattling roar, the creature reared up over Plog, round gaping mouth stretched wide, ready to gobble him up . . .
Chapter Two
THE FABRIC THIEVES
“Who are you?” Plog demanded as the shadowy monster loomed ever closer. “What are you doing inside a burning factory?”
Hissing and gurgling, the shadowy creature’s only answer was to spit a jet of flame from his wide open mouth! Plog barely rolled clear in time.
“Hey!” he shouted. “Did you start this fire?”
The monster nodded his misshapen head and laughed nastily.
But then a loud cry sounded – “Whoooaaaaa!” – and something large and crimson crashed down on top of Plog’s attacker. “Oof! I fell off the tightrope. Good job my butt found a cushion . . .”
“Danjo!” Plog cried. “That is no ‘cushion’ – he breathes fire. He’s alive!”
Danjo jumped up and scrambled away. “Alive?”
Suddenly, there was a series of strange noises: STR-EE-EE-TCH! Boing! WHOOOOOOSH!
Plog’s ears pricked up. “What was that rush of wind?”
Danjo gave him a look. “Whoever smelled it, dealt it.”
“Not that sort of wind,” Plog told him. “It sounded like a rocket taking off . . .”
“I’ll just put out these fires,” said Danjo, “then we’ll have a proper look.”
But as the cool crab-creature buried the last of the blaze beneath a pile of slimy slush, it was clear that the fire-breathing ‘something’ had gone. The factory was empty.
The next moment, Zill and Furp came scooting down a slime-line with Noodle and Horace – the blue workers – on their backs.
“Danjo, are you and Plog all right?” Zill asked worriedly.
“My scanner showed that the other living thing down here just vanished,” Furp added.
“It certainly seems to have disappeared,” said Plog. Quickly he explained all that had happened.
“I’m not surprised this weird monster took off when Danjo fell on him,” said Zill. “But how come we didn’t see him leave?”
Furp shook his head, puzzled. “And why did he start a fire here in the first place?”
“Maybe those other factory fires were started on purpose too,” said Danjo.
“Let’s look for clues,” Plog suggested. “The other factories burned to the ground, but thanks to Danjo’s ice-goo this one’s still standing.”
Horace nodded to a closed door nearby. “It looks like the main storeroom has hardly been touched at all.”
Just then, Jurley came puffing in from outside.
“Horace! Noodle! I’m so glad you’re safe.”
“Thanks to the Slime Squad,” Noodle said happily, pulling open the storeroom door. “And look, that massive pile of fabric you put in here this evening should be completely—”
“Gone!” squeaked Jurley, staring inside. “Oh, no! All my poshest material, in so many beautiful colours – it must have gone up in smoke.”
Furp hopped inside. “Nothing has burned in here – there’s no ash at all.”
Plog nodded slowly. “Then – that fire-breathing thing must have stolen the fabrics . . . But why?”
Dirty and sore, the Squaddies drove back home to their secret base in the Slime-mobile, their invisible mega-monster truck. As day began to break, Zill steered them into the secret passage that led to the underground garage. “Poor old Jurley,” she said. “All four of her factories, burned down and burgled!”
Plog nodded. “I wonder where that smelly, lumpy fire-starter will strike next?”
“The All-Seeing PIE will know what to do,” Danjo declared.
Zill parked the Slime-mobile, and everyone ran to PIE’s office. Plog hoped Danjo was right. PIE – short for Perfect Intelligent Electronics – was the Squad’s computerized boss. His clever, all-seeing sensors were scattered wide and far throughout Trashland; whenever monsters were in trouble, he sent the Squad off to sort things out.
Danjo and Zill heaved open the office door to reveal a massive, battered computer with a funny face on his screen – PIE in all his high-tech glory.
“PIE,” Plog called. “Did you see that fire-starting fabric thief coming or going?”
“ARE YOU BEING CHEEKY?” boomed a mechanical voice suspiciously.
“Er, no,”
said Plog, gulping. “Just puzzled.”
“My sensors detected something leaving the fabric factory in Whiffsville at incredible speed tonight,” PIE confirmed. “Possibly some sort of rocket . . .”
Furp nodded thoughtfully. “That would explain how the thief took all that material with him.”
“Do rockets go ‘boing’?” wondered Danjo. “That’s the sound we heard.”
“I am checking my recordings of the other factory fires for things that go ‘boing’,” PIE assured him. “I will study the evidence frame by frame! Pixel by pixel! Nano-byte by banana!”
Plog frowned. “Nano-byte by banana?”
“Whoops, sorry, I got muddled with my shopping list,” said PIE. “Buy a banana. They’re good for you.”
“This whole thing is bananas,” Zill sighed. “Why would anyone who wanted to steal a mountain of material set fire to the place as well?”
“So no one would know they had taken it?” PIE suggested.
“Do you think Lord Klukk is behind this?” asked Plog nervously.
Danjo frowned. “What would he want with a load of posh material?”
“That clucking fiend is always plotting mayhem from the shadows,” PIE grumbled. “And he has many dangerous friends. We must be on our guard.” Suddenly exclamation marks appeared all over his scuffed screen. “Warning!” he boomed. “A fire has started at the Cotton-Picking Thread Store in Goo York, just outside Monstahattan. It could mean the start of another robbery. SHIFT!”
Within seconds, Plog, Zill, Furp and Danjo were back in the Slime-mobile.
“Hang on, guys!” Zill shouted, leaping into the driver’s seat and revving the engines. “I’m putting the pedal to the metal – NOW!”
The Slime-mobile surged forward and roared away, leaving big stripes of burnt invisible rubber in its wake. Plog held onto his seat for dear life as the journey grew faster and wilder – it felt as though Zill had put the pedal right through the metal and then tied it to the back of a rocket-powered super-elephant!
