by Kirk Scroggs
Copyright © 2007 by Kirk Scroggs
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com.
First eBook Edition: October 2007
ISBN: 978-0-316-05578-9
The Little, Brown and Company name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
Series design by Saho Fujii
The illustrations for this book were done in Staedtler ink on Canson Marker paper, then digitized with Adobe Photoshop for color and shade.
The text was set in Humana Sans Light and the display type was handlettered.
Contents
CHAPTER 1: Thick and Creamy
CHAPTER 2: The Kitchen Stink
CHAPTER 3: E.T.—The Eggy Tentacle
CHAPTER 4: What About Blob?
CHAPTER 5: Foam for the Holidays
CHAPTER 6: Santa Claud
CHAPTER 7: The Spittin' Image
CHAPTER 8: The Curd on the Street
CHAPTER 9: Clap Your Hans and Say, “Yah!”
CHAPTER 10: The Quiver Dance
CHAPTER 11: A Grosser Look
CHAPTER 12: General Mayhem
CHAPTER 13: Dreck the Halls
CHAPTER 14: Use Your Noggin
CHAPTER 15: Something Liquid This Way Comes
CHAPTER 16: As the Milk Turns
CHAPTER 17: Noggy By Nature
CHAPTER 18: Who Let the Nog Out?
CHAPTER 19: Spong Blob, Square Pan
CHAPTER 20: A Crumby Ending
CHAPTER 21: Hight on a Hog
CRACKPOT SNAPSHOP
This book is in loving memory of Betty Aulds.
Special Thanks to:
Steve Deline, Jackie Greed, Suppasak Viboonlarp, Mark Mayes, Hiland Hall, Amy Pennington, Alejandra, Inge Govaerts, Joe Kocian, Jim Jeong, Will Keightly, Mrs. Nelson's Books, Tim Nelson, and the mezz crew woo woo!
A special holiday-spiced thanks to Andrea, Jill, Alison, Elizabeth, Saho, Sangeeta and the Little Brown crew.
An extra noggy thanks to Ashley & Carolyn Grayson and Dav Pilkey.
And a super, nutmeg-sprinkled thanks to Harold Aulds and Diane and Corey Scroggs.
CHAPTER 1
Thick and Creamy
Ladies and gentlemen…I’d like to take a moment to talk about eggnog. To some, eggnog is a delicious holiday beverage that brings joy to all To the rest of us sane and normal folks, it is a disgusting yellow milky concoction that resembles elephant mucus.
This is a heartwarming story about eggnog—rivers of evil, frothy, putrid eggnog. So sit down, dim the lights, and pour yourself a big ol’ glass. Enjoy.
Look out! A stream of eggnog is headed straight for you!
No, wait! That’s just Jubal demonstrating his awesome ability to shoot milk out of his nose. It was only a few days until Christmas vacation and Jubal was celebrating with a twenty-one-nostril salute.
“Hey! Watch it!” I yelled. “You almost hit my science project. I’ve spent weeks perfecting my Superblob 3.5 formula.”
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to have such dangerous chemicals in the cafeteria?” asked Jubal.
“Yeah,” said Coach Haunch. “You wouldn’t want to contaminate those perfectly good toxic chemicals with Vera’s cooking.”
“This is no ordinary batch of toxic chemicals,” I said. “It can be sculpted into any form.”
“Hey! It’s Santa!” said little Mary Ann.
“Or it can be used for educational purposes. Just look at this sculpture of our nation’s capitol…
or this authentic baboon’s butt.”
“Neato!” said Mary Ann. “It jiggles just like the real thing!”
Suddenly, we heard a shriek from the kitchen! It was Vera, fresh back from her vacation and out of her mind.
“Help! Help!” she screamed. “Something slimy and horrible just attacked me in the kitchen!”
“Are you sure it wasn’t the Salisbury steak with brown gravy?” I asked.
“Nooo!” she screamed. “This was much more vicious!”
CHAPTER 2
The Kitchen Stink
We gathered whatever weapons we could find and bravely crept into the kitchen. The air was filled with the smell of rot and doom, which was, of course, perfectly normal.
“You guys go ahead without me,” said Coach Haunch nervously. “I’m gonna go check on the parking lot and make sure our precious fleet of school buses is okay.”
“Whatever it is, it’s in the fridge,” said Vera.
We approached the refrigerator with caution. It was vibrating, and strange fluids were leaking out of it—again, perfectly normal.
We opened the door to find…
“Argh! A monster!” I screamed.
“Don’t be frightened,” said Vera. “That’s just my holiday meat loaf snowman. I made it myself from seven different types of meat.”
CHAPTER 3
E.T.—The Eggy Tentacle
“Sorry, Vera,” I said. “It’ll have to be removed and destroyed. We can’t take any chances. In fact, just to be safe, I think we should seal this whole area off and destroy every bit of food in this kitchen.”
Just then, a slimy tentacle slithered out of the fridge and tapped Jubal on the shoulder!
The tentacle came from a rancid carton of eggnog in the back of the fridge.
“Good gravy!” I yelled. “Vera, that carton of eggnog expired in 1983! It’s so rotten, it’s come to life!”
“Well, I was saving it for a special occasion,” said Vera.
Suddenly, the carton of eggnog jumped out of the fridge and spit a stream of expired nog right at our heads.
“This little guy’s got some impressive moves!” said Jubal.
“Look!” I screamed. “The carton is hopping toward the lunchroom. We can’t let it escape. Stop that beverage!”
CHAPTER 4
What About Blob?
The kids in the cafeteria grouped together and blocked the exit.
Jubal and I tried to run the offending dairy product down with the condiment cart, but our efforts didn’t cut the mustard.
Then we laid down a suppressing fire of corn dogs and bombsicles.
Finally, Vera trapped the creepo carton with my Superblob 3.5 formula.
The eggnog absorbed all of the Superblob formula and started to shake uncontrollably. Then a huge glob of nog burst out and transformed into a mighty hammer!
“Oh, no!” I said. “My Superblob formula has given the eggnog the power to transform into any object!”
“I hate when this happens,” said Vera.
The eggnog blob morphed into a bat, a zombie, even a hairy tarantula, and came after the other kids.
“Stay strong, fellow students!” I yelled. “It’s just taking the form of scary monsters to intimidate us! Don’t be fooled!”
Then the blob transformed into the most horrifying object imaginable.
“Sweet mother of pearl!” I screamed. “It’s a giant math book! Runnn!”
We were defenseless against this milky menace, and it made its escape.
CHAPTER 5
Foam for the Holidays
Later that day, at Grampa’s house, the spirit of Christmas was in the air. Grampa’s hounds, Esther and Chavez, were decorating their doghouse.
Inside, Merle was lovingly putting the finishing touches on his litter box whi
le dancing to the Nutcracker Suite (meowed by an all-cat choir, of course).
Grampa was helping Gramma decorate the tree.
“Grampa!” I said. “You won’t believe what happened at school today!”
“Not now, Wiley,” said Grampa. “I must focus all of my concentration on supporting your Gramma. One slip and you’ll have to scrape me off the floor with a spatula.”
CHAPTER 6
Santa Claud
After decorating, we sat down in front of the TV.
“I tell you what,” said Grampa. “There’s nothing like sitting down with your loved ones and enjoying some delicious snacks and quality family Christmas entertainment.”
“Oh, goody!” said Gramma. “I love Christmas movies.”
“Season’s greetings! This is Claud Bones, your horrible holiday host, and tonight we’ve got three classic yuletide yuckfests: The Fright Before Christmas, The Incredible Melting Snowman, and I Saw a Mummy Kissing Santa Claus. And remember, when those wintery winds have your lips feeling chapped, use melon-flavored Puckers Lip Embalmer. Preserve those suckers with Puckers!”
“I don’t think so!” said Gramma. “I can’t stand to see Christmas corrupted in such disgusting, slimy horror movies. I’m gonna go bake some cookies.”
“Suit yourself, Granny,” said Grampa. “But you’ll be back. Once you hear the shrieks of the evil alien elves and the roar of Frosty 5000, the genetically mutated snowman, you’ll come crawlin’ back.”
The movie was just starting to get good when we heard a scream from the kitchen. It was Gramma!
“Hey, hold it down in there!” said Grampa. “I can’t hear the screams of the civilians with you shoutin’ like that!”
“The cat’s gone crazy!” screamed Gramma from the kitchen. “Merle just broke into the fridge and drank all the eggnog!”
“But that’s impossible!” I said. “Merle’s been out here the whole time, clawing your brand-new sofa!”
“But if it’s not Merle,” said Gramma, “then who is it?”
CHAPTER 7
The Spittin' Image
We peeked into the kitchen, and sure enough, there was Merle and he had plundered the fridge. At least, it looked like Merle—except he kinda looked like he was made out of gravy.
“Ooooh! How cute. A new kitty!” said Gramma. “He looks so cuddly and…creamy!”
“That’s no kitty,” I said. “That’s a mutant blob of eggnog that’s morphed into the shape of Merle. We created him in school today. It looks like he’s absorbed the eggnog from the fridge.”
Suddenly, the noggy feline spit a stream of goo at Gramma and swept me and Merle up into its milky tentacles!
“Oh, fiddle!” shouted Gramma. “I just cleaned this kitchen!”
Gramma was quick on the draw with her power cake mixer.
Merle held off the beast with the sign of the crazy straw (known for centuries to ward off evil eggnog).
And I gave the ghastly gruel a blast of hot water from the sink.
The eggnog blob hopped to the living room and went after Grampa, but he was too wrapped up in his movie.
“Hey! Down in front!” shouted Grampa. “You’re blocking the TV. I’m trying to watch Frosty eat a school bus!”
I managed to lasso the eggnog with some lights from the Christmas tree.
“All right, Merle,” I said. “Plug ’em in and stand back!”
Merle plugged in the Christmas tree lights and the blob lit up like a…uh, Christmas tree. The electrified beasty quivered like a frog in a blender, made a dash for the window, and escaped once again.
The house was a shambles. Little pools of nog were all over the place.
“I’ll run a sample of the killer nog over to Nate Farkles for analysis,” I said.
“Boy!” said Grampa. “That snowman movie sure wore me out. If only real life were that exciting. I think I’m gonna hit the hay.”
CHAPTER 8
The Curd on the Street
The next day, we headed to town for some more nog. The place was abuzz with activity.
“Beware, citizens!” said Cleta Van Snout. “There’s an eggnog bandit on the loose. Twelve robberies just last night. I suggest you hide your nog and guard it with high-powered weaponry!”
Things were especially crazy in front of the grocery store. Cops were all over the place.
“Stay calm, folks!” said Officer Puckett. “A few moments ago this grocery store was attacked and the entire eggnog aisle was destroyed and depleted. The mayor has declared this Piggly Jiggly a disaster area and is sending in a battalion of mops and grief counselors!”
“Wait a minute! It was her!” said Luigi, the grocer, pointing at Gramma. “I saw her in the eggnog aisle before the attack!”
“That’s not true!” said Gramma.
“Utterly absurd,” said Grampa. “But I would like to point out that I have no idea who this woman is. I’m just here for some Pork Cracklins.”
These crazy people thought Gramma was the culprit. We had to get outta there.
“Look out!” I screamed. “A runaway reindeer is headed this way!”
While the townspeople were distracted, I turned to Gramma and Grampa and shouted, “Run!”
“But I wanna see the runaway reindeer!” said Grampa.
We outran the crowd before they could identify us and stopped for a breather around the corner.
“I don’t see why they think I took the eggnog,” said Gramma. “Aside from crashing that blimp into the Chattanooga chimichanga factory in 1957 I’ve never broken the law in my life!”
“Look!” I said pointing at the big-screen TV store. “Gramma, you’re on TV!”
“You saw it here first, folks,” said Blue Norther. “Actual footage of the eggnog bandit. If you see this large, quivery woman, head for the hills! The mayor has hired a team of local goons with tranquilizer darts to hunt this nog-lovin’ fiend down. Have a merry Christmas.”
“Oh, dear!” said Gramma.
“Don’t worry, honey,” said Grampa. “Those darts might sting a little goin’ in, but they won’t do any permanent damage.”
“The eggnog must have morphed into Gramma to slip into the Piggly Jiggly unnoticed,” I said. “We’ve gotta get you home before someone recognizes you. We’re gonna need a disguise.”
“How about Conan the Barbarian?” said Grampa. “No, I’ve got it—a rabid hula dancer!”
We settled on something simpler and headed home, but the town was crawling with folks looking for the bandit.
“I just hope they catch her before the school musical tonight,” said Merna Figleaf. “They say there’s over two hundred fifty gallons of eggnog in one of the big dance numbers. If that scoundrel shows her face tonight I’ll get her in a head lock, then I’ll beat her with a wet noodle. Then I’ll …”
“Musical!” said Grampa nervously. “Heavens to Betsy! Wiley, we’ve gotta get you in costume. Sorry, Merna. Gotta be going.”
CHAPTER 9
Clap Your Hans and Say, “Yah!”
That night was the big school Christmas musical, Andrew Lloyd Webfoot’s Jingle Bell Stomp. The play’s director, Hans Lotion, and his grandson, Jurgen, greeted the crowd.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”
“I know a lot of you are vorried about ze fountain of eggnog zat is ze centerpiece of my show, but do not fear. If ze eggnog bandit appears, she vill have to deal vith my army of soldiers, my vicious attack hounds, and Jurgen’s beloved trained spider monkeys. Now, please, relax and enjoy ze show.”
Backstage, Jubal and I were pretty nervous.
“I have a hunch that the blob will go after the eggnog sometime during the show,” I said. “Probably during one of the boring musical numbers when the audience is asleep.”
“I just hope no one spots your Gramma in the audience,” said Jubal.
“Don’t worry, Jubal,” I said. “Gramma is in a brilliant disguise. No one will suspect a thing.”
“I think the show
is about to begin, honey—I mean, Felipe,” said Grampa.
CHAPTER 10
The Quiver Dance
The show got off to a blazing start with the big-haired Sugar Sisters singing “Don’t Gimme No Sass for Christmas.”
Merle did some modern reindeer dance.
Then we all came out for the huge musical number “Clog Around the Nog,” where we stomped around the fountain of eggnog.
“Hey, Wiley!” said Jubal.
“Not now, Jubal,” I said. “I’m in a groove.”
“But I thought you should know,” said Jubal, “I think Elvis is dancing next to me.”
“That’s not Elvis!” I screamed. “That’s the eggnog monster!”
The blob leaped over Jubal and shot straight into the eggnog fountain.
Then it absorbed all of the nog and grew twenty times its original size! The nutmeg nightmare loomed over the audience.
“Bravo!” said Grampa. “These special effects are amazing! You’d never see this kinda thing in Dreamgirls!”
The soldiers, attack dogs, even the trained spider monkeys had no effect on the blob.
Hans tried to calm the audience. “It’s okay, folks! Never mind ze explosions and ze shrapnel. It’s all part of ze show!”
