by R. L. Stine
He pulled out a tiny doll — a purple-and-green Horror. It looked just like the big furry Horrors who were the park workers in HorrorLand.
“Take a little Horror home with you,” Jonathan Chiller said. He attached it to the ribbon.
I reached into my jeans pocket for some money. But Chiller waved me away.
“Don’t pay me now,” he said. He narrowed his eyes behind the old-fashioned glasses. “You can pay me back next time you see me.”
I took the package. I stared back at him.
NEXT time?
What did he mean by that?
I pressed the POWER button and popped a round orange candy into my mouth. “Want one? They’re really sour.” I raised the phone to Lexi.
She made a disgusted face and shoved my hand away. “You know sour candy makes me puke. One candy and I’ll puke all over your shoes.”
“Thanks for sharing that,” I said. I popped another one into my mouth. Then I tucked the phone into the pocket of my T-shirt.
It was a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon. We’d been back home for a week. I met Lexi after her tennis lesson at City Courts, and we were walking toward my house.
She wore white tennis shorts and a silky gray vest over a white T-shirt. Her hair was still damp from her tennis game.
A blue-and-red neon sign over a little store caught my attention. It was glowing brightly even in the strong sunshine. LITTLE SHOP OF HAMSTERS.
“Is that a new pet store?” I asked.
I didn’t wait for her answer. I tore across the street. Two teenagers on bikes swerved to miss me. They screamed some rude words and shook their fists at me.
I love pet stores. I eagerly peered through the glass door, but I couldn’t see anything inside. I pushed the door open and stepped into the shop. Lexi hurried in right behind me.
The store was dark inside. The air felt hot and steamy. It smelled like a barn. Like straw and dirt and farm animals. A slowly spinning ceiling fan made the deep shadows dance in front of us.
“Whoa!” I let out a startled cry as I nearly bumped into a glass wall. I blinked and let my eyes adjust to the dim light.
An enormous display case filled the center of the shop. It had glass walls on all four sides and a glass top. A narrow sliding wire door was placed in one of the glass walls.
The case was taller than me. It had to be at least eight feet tall. And it was nearly as wide as the store.
From inside the walls of glass, eyes stared out at me. Dozens of tiny black eyes. The case was actually a cage! It had hundreds of hamsters packed inside.
Hamsters poked their noses against the glass, gazing out at Lexi and me. Behind them, hamsters scampered through the wood shavings that covered the cage floor.
What was that strange squeaking sound? Hamster wheels. There were eight or ten of them, with hamsters running hard, making them spin and squeal.
Hamsters were chomping away in the long row of food dishes on the back wall. Others ran through long, twisting plastic tubes. One big guy was trying to climb a side of the glass cage. Two hamsters were wrestling in a food dish.
“Lexi — it’s like a big hamster circus!” I said.
She pressed her hands against the glass and peered in. “You mean like a hamster city!” she said. “The cage is bigger than my bedroom!”
“They are totally cute,” I said. “Look how they wrinkle their noses.”
She poked me. “Hey — check out the funny front teeth. That one looks just like you, Sam!”
“Ha-ha,” I said, poking her back. “What a weird store. No dogs or birds or anything. Just hamsters. Hundreds of hamsters.”
“Look. That one found a piece of carrot,” Lexi said, pointing. “And the big brown one is waiting for him to drop it. Ready to pounce. This is a total riot!”
I watched a cute little gray hamster running on a wheel. The squeaking wheels were the only sounds in the shop, except for the hum of the ceiling fan.
“My parents won’t let me get a dog,” I told Lexi. “They say I have to prove I’m responsible first.”
“Like I don’t know that,” Lexi said, staring into the cage. “Sam, you’ve told me that a thousand times!”
“But maybe they’ll let me get a hamster,” I said. “You don’t have to walk a hamster or anything. It doesn’t take much work.”
Lexi started to answer. But her mouth dropped open and no sound came out. Her eyes bulged.
I turned and followed her gaze. And then I gasped as I squinted into the dim light and saw what she was staring at.
An enormous hamster — gigantic! — taller than Lexi and me — crept out from behind the cage. It walked on two legs, in a strange, shuffling motion.
Its glassy eyes — as big as tennis balls! — gazed straight ahead. Its huge front paws swung low at its bulging sides. Its fur ruffled by the wind from the ceiling fan.
It turned. It SAW us!
And its big paws thudded softly on the floor as it headed right for us!
“No!” A sharp cry escaped my throat.
The creature’s huge eyes didn’t blink. They stared hard at Lexi and me, glowing darkly.
The giant hamster moved in and out of the shadows cast down from the spinning ceiling fan. Lexi and I backed up against the glass cage. And watched it slowly advance, step by step.
And then it reached up with its big white front paws and lifted off its head.
Lexi and I burst out laughing.
A man in a hamster costume! He held the head in front of him. His face was red, and his forehead was dripping with sweat.
“Hot in this thing,” he said.
His curly black-and-gray hair was drenched. He had dark eyes, a big round nose, and a bushy black mustache that looked like a paintbrush.
He set the hamster head down on the front counter. “Like my new store?” he asked. He pulled his arms free and climbed out of the costume.
“I’m Mr. Fitz.” He was short and thin, but he had a deep voice. He put a white apron on and struggled to tie the straps. “Your names?”
We told him.
“Do you wear that costume all day long?” Lexi asked.
He picked up a towel and mopped his face and hair. “No,” he said. “Just sometimes. It’s an attention getter.”
“Sure is,” I said. “You really got our attention!” I decided not to tell him he nearly scared us to death!
“I wear it outside the shop to attract customers,” Fitz said. “When you have a new store, you have to work hard to get people to notice you.”
He shoved the costume under the counter.
“I like your store,” I said. “It’s totally cool.”
“Sam is really into animals,” Lexi said.
Fitz nodded. “Is that so?” He slid open the wire door to the glass cage. A few hamsters turned at the sound. The rest went on with what they were doing.
Fitz reached into the wood shavings and pulled up a hamster in each hand. Then he turned and handed one to Lexi and one to me.
My hamster was white with brown spots down his back. He squirmed in my hand. I almost dropped him. His pink nose twitched, and he gazed up at me with bright black eyes.
Lexi rubbed a finger down the back of her hamster. He was all white, except for a scattering of little brown spots on his face. They kind of looked like freckles.
“I love their fur,” she said. “So soft.” The hamster tried to nibble her finger. She turned it around in her hand.
“Totally awesome,” I told Fitz.
He motioned to the little guy, who was trying to climb up my arm. “Do you want him, Sam? They’re not very expensive.”
“I wish,” I said with a sigh. “I’d love a hamster. But my parents won’t let me have a pet.”
“He has to prove he’s responsible first,” Lexi chimed in.
Fitz eyed me. “You’re not very responsible?”
“Yes, I am,” I said. “It’s just … they want me to prove I’d take good care of a pet.”
Fitz nodded. “Well, you can come back here anytime and play with them.”
The hamster tickled my hand with his nose. I handed him back to Fitz. “Thanks.”
Lexi petted her hamster a little more, then she carried him to the cage and set him down. We started for the front door.
But Fitz stopped us. “Hey — want to help me give them water? I’ve got a lot of water bottles to fill.”
He pulled two glass bottles from behind the counter.
“Sure,” I said. I took one of them from him. “What’s in this bottle? Just plain water?”
“It’s called Vito-Vigor,” Fitz answered. “It’s vitamin water. You know. Like you buy at the supermarket.”
He handed Lexi the other bottle of Vito-Vigor. Then he led us to the back of the cage. “Pour the water into these tubes,” he said. “It runs into their water bottles.”
I tilted the bottle and poured water into the tube that stuck out of the back of the cage. I could see it flow into the bottle on the other side of the glass.
“You have to go inside the cage to feed them and change the floor shavings,” Fitz said.
“Look at them all staring up at us. They must think we’re giants or something,” Lexi said.
“Maybe they think we’re monsters,” I said. “Maybe they’ll have nightmares about us.”
Lexi laughed. “Sam, I already have nightmares about you!”
We filled all the water bottles, then handed Fitz the empty Vito-Vigor bottles.
“Well, thanks for your help, guys,” he said. “Come back anytime.”
We walked out and started toward my house.
Lexi had a strange smile on her face. She had her arms wrapped tightly around the front of her vest.
We walked a few blocks, then she stopped. Her eyes flashed and her grin grew wider.
“Here, Sam,” she said, “here’s a present for you.” She held out her hand.
And I let out a scream. “Lexi — are you CRAZY?”
Lexi dropped a hamster into my hands. She had hidden him under her vest.
“No way!” I cried. “No way!”
She grinned. “It’s the freckly guy. I never put him back in the cage.”
“But — but —” I sputtered.
Lexi shrugged. “What’s the big deal, Sam? Fitz has hundreds of them. He won’t miss one hamster!”
The hamster twitched his little nose at me. I could feel his little heart pounding.
I smoothed a finger down his back to calm him.
“Lexi, this is stealing!” I cried. “You stole this hamster!”
Her smile faded. She tugged her vest down. “I was only trying to help you,” she said. “I know how desperate you are to have a pet.”
“Not desperate enough to steal,” I said. “Don’t help me, Lexi. That man Fitz is a nice guy. No way I’m going to steal a hamster from his store. That’s just crazy.”
Her cheeks turned red. “Okay. Fine. I’m crazy,” she snapped. She balled her hands into tight fists. Then she spun away and stomped off.
“Hey, wait —” I called.
But she started to run. She tore down the block without looking back.
I raised the trembling hamster to my face and spoke gently to him. “Don’t worry, fella. I’m going to take you back to your home.”
I tucked the little guy into my shirt pocket to keep him safe. Then I hurried back to the hamster shop.
I peered into the front window. The store was pitch-black. Then I saw the little sign on the door: CLOSED.
I let out a groan. The hamster wriggled in my shirt pocket. I tucked my hand over him to make sure he didn’t jump out.
I pounded on the door with my other fist. Maybe Mr. Fitz was somewhere in there.
My mind was spinning. Would he believe me when I told him what happened? Or would he think I stole the hamster?
But there was no sign of him.
I tried the door — and it swung open!
“Whoa!”
Now my heart was racing as fast as the hamster’s! I stepped into the darkness and shut the door silently behind me.
It was hot and smelly in there. The ceiling fan was shut off. The back of my neck began to prickle. I felt a drop of sweat run down my forehead.
It was so dark, I could barely see into the glass cage. I could hear the hamster wheels squeaking. And I could hear their paws scratching the wood shavings as they scampered around.
I stepped closer to the glass. Hamsters stared out at me. They climbed over each other to get a better look.
I glanced all around. No sign of Fitz. The big hamster costume was crumpled on the counter. The head rested upside down.
The air felt steamy and thick. Hard to breathe.
I’ll return the hamster to the cage and get OUT of here, I told myself.
I moved to the cage door. I reached into my pocket for the hamster — and POP!
The hamster stepped on the cell phone in my pocket. A sour candy flew out of the phone.
“Hey!” I let out a cry as the hamster grabbed the candy in his front paws. And stuffed it into his mouth. He swallowed the little candy without chewing.
I pulled the hamster from my pocket and raised him in front of me. “Are you okay, Freckle Face?” I asked him.
My chest felt fluttery. Had I just poisoned the little guy?
The hamster lowered his eyes to my pocket. He began to claw with both paws. He stretched his body, pawing for the pocket.
It made me laugh.
He was trying to get more candy!
I wrapped my hand tightly around the hamster and walked to the cage door. It took me a while to figure out how to open the sliding door. I slid the door open.
I tried to lower the hamster into the cage. But he grabbed the top of my T-shirt pocket with both paws — and wouldn’t let go!
“Come on, dude. Get your paws off me!” I begged. “No more candy.”
I wrapped both hands around the little guy’s waist and tugged.
He lowered his head into my pocket and clung tightly to my shirt.
I heard rustling sounds. I looked down and saw hamsters darting toward the open cage door.
“No!” I cried.
I pictured a hundred hamsters escaping — scampering around the shop in the dark.
I moved to block the door. Stumbled — and staggered into the cage. I had to be so careful not to step on any of the hamsters!
Still gripping the hamster, I caught my balance on the cage floor. I reached behind me and slid the door shut before any hamsters could run out.
“Ohhhh.” A powerful stench rolled over me. “It stinks in here!” I said out loud. My voice was muffled by the glass walls.
Doesn’t Mr. Fitz ever clean out their poop?
I tried holding my breath. But I couldn’t get the smell out of my nose.
I jumped as a creature ran over my foot. Too dark to see them. But I could feel hamsters brushing my legs. The wood shavings on the floor rustled as hamsters moved all around me.
I scolded myself. What are you scared of, Sam? They’re just cute little hamsters!
But there were hundreds of them. I felt them run over my shoes and scratch at my legs. And all I could see were their eerie, glowing eyes. Eyes all around me.
“No more candy!” I told the hamster. I gave one more tug — and pulled him off my pocket.
I started to lower him to the cage floor — when the store lights flashed on.
Mr. Fitz stood outside the cage, his eyes blinking. When he saw me, they bulged wide in shock.
He scowled at me and let out an angry shout: “What are you DOING in there?”
I froze.
My brain locked.
How could I explain this?
Did he think I was a thief?
I still had the freckle-faced hamster wrapped tightly in my hand.
Mr. Fitz had his nose against the glass, studying me. He was definitely not happy to see me in there.
I set Freckle Face down on th
e cage floor. The hamster didn’t scamper away to rejoin his friends. He just stood there on two legs, staring up at me.
Weird, I thought.
I turned and walked to the cage door. I could feel my shoes slide on sticky shavings on the floor. Holding my breath, I slid open the wire door. And stumbled out of the cage.
Fitz was watching me. He had his arms crossed in front of his white apron. “Sam, the store is closed,” he said.
“I — I know,” I stammered. “I … had to return a hamster.”
He squinted at me. “Return it?”
I nodded. My mouth was suddenly very dry. “It got caught in Lexi’s vest,” I said. “She didn’t see it till we got halfway to her house. The little guy was stuck to her. So … I … uh … brought him back.”
Yes. I was lying. But I didn’t want to get Lexi in trouble.
Did he believe me?
I couldn’t tell. But the scowl faded from his face. “That was nice of you,” he said finally. “Very responsible.”
“I … knocked on the door,” I said. “I guess you didn’t hear me.”
“No problem,” Fitz said. “You just startled me.”
He picked up a cloth and began wiping off the front of the cage. “These hamsters are real escape artists. They’ll climb into your pants pocket if they think it will give them a few minutes of freedom!”
I laughed. “Well, they sure are cute,” I said. “This little freckled one wouldn’t let go of me.”
“Well, thanks again,” Fitz said. “Come back anytime, Sam. And tell your friends.”
I let out a sigh of relief. I hoped he didn’t hear it. I said good-bye. Then I hurried home to dinner — and more trouble!
Lexi came to dinner. She sat across from Noah and me. She didn’t seem to be angry anymore. She didn’t even mention hamsters.
Noah is three, and he’s a real devil — only my parents think he’s a riot. Take my word for it — he isn’t a riot! Unless you spell riot t-r-o-u-b-l-e!
Noah looks a lot like me, except his hair is blond and wavy. He has the same dark eyes and the same bunny teeth as me. Maybe the worst thing about Noah? He likes to bite!
