Welcome to the Wicked Wax Museum

by RL Stine

  You and Liz stare at each other. “She’s batty,” you say.

  “True,” Liz agrees. “There’s only one thing to do.”

  You nod. “Here we go again. RUN!”

  The two of you take off. Behind you, Sybil screams with rage. “Axel! Get them!” she shouts.

  Pounding footsteps tell you the skull-faced driver is close on your heels. You crash through racks of waxy arms, legs, torsos. Where’s the exit? you wonder frantically.

  There doesn’t seem to be one. Instead, you and Liz find yourselves in a corner. There’s nowhere to go. You’re trapped!

  Axel and Sybil are standing there, laughing at you. This is it. You’re done for.

  Or … are you? You spot a glass box on the wall. Letters on the box say:

  IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, BREAK GLASS.

  If you think this is an emergency, turn to PAGE 36.

  If you don’t think it’s a real emergency, turn to PAGE 119.

  There really are monsters under the bed!

  You want to scream in terror. But you can’t, because then whoever is in the room will hear you. So you battle the slimy thing under the bed in silence. Kicking. Shoving. Even biting.

  The trouble is, the more you struggle, the more the sticky goo gums up your hands, your face, every part of you.

  Soon your mouth and eyes are sealed shut with the goo. You think it might be wise to yell now. But it’s too late. You can’t yell. You can’t even move. You can only lie there, helpless, as the slime monster wraps itself around you and starts digesting you whole.

  Oh, well … easy come, easy goo!

  THE END

  You twist and scratch until you pull yourself free from the wax madman. You grab Liz and pull her up the stairs. You reach the room where the light is on. There’s no time to knock. You throw open the door —

  — and come face-to-face with the tall museum worker who captured you in the Executioner’s room. He’s still wearing his white overalls, but he’s taken off the doctor’s mask.

  “I’ve been expecting you,” he says. “You didn’t really think you could get away, did you? You’re staying with us forever.” He looks past you and speaks to the man behind you. “Aren’t they, Strangler?”

  You turn to run, but the Strangler’s towering figure blocks the way.

  “Why try to leave?” the man in overalls snarls. “You should feel honored to be part of the grand opening of the museum.”

  While he talks, you search the room with your eyes. You’re looking for anything that might save you and Liz. Then you see it. The candle in the window.

  You’ve got an idea! And it just might work.

  You have no choice but to try it. Turn to PAGE 7.

  “History!” The tall worker laughs. “That’s a good one! The public wants horror, not history. And we aim to please. You’ve already met the Executioner. Soon you’ll meet the others.”

  “Others?” you cry. “What others?”

  The short man answers. “First things first. There’s no time to steam you. We’ll send you straight to the next step.”

  He pulls a red curtain aside. A door in the wall slides open to a dimly-lit hallway. At the far end there’s a glass door with red letters on it. They say SKIN SCRAPING CENTER. And there’s Jake on the other side!

  “Jake!” you cry. “Hold on! We’re coming to get you!” He’s struggling in the arms of another masked museum worker. Now he’s being strapped onto a rolling stretcher and pushed out of sight. He’s gone again. But at least you know he’s still alive!

  “Get moving!” the tall man orders. They push you and Liz through the doorway. The door slides shut behind you and locks.

  You and Liz are alone. Now’s the time to make your move. You’ve got to act — before they turn Jake into a statue!

  On the wall, two buttons glow. One is yellow. One is green. They look important. Just what you need to create a distraction. But which button should you push? Yellow? Or green?

  If you push the yellow button, turn to PAGE 16.

  If you push the green button, turn to PAGE 55.

  “That’s plain creepy!” Liz cries. “Stop the ride! I want to get off!”

  She pushes hard against the metal lap bar. Everything screeches to a halt.

  A moment later the lights go out. You’re sitting in the dark again!

  What happens next depends on what day of the week it is.

  If you’re reading this on a weekday, the ride starts right back up again. Go to PAGE 51.

  If you’re reading this on a weekend, you have to get off the ride. Go to PAGE 25.

  You’re so busy scratching the wax surface of the Executioner that you hardly notice what’s happening. But it gradually dawns on you.

  Fingers. Five of them. Fingers have wrapped themselves around your right arm. And they’re starting to squeeze.

  You can’t bring yourself to raise your eyes to the Executioner’s face. Your eyes are level with his chest. In and out. In and out.

  You gulp. “Liz,” you say. “I certainly hope that’s you squeezing my arm.”

  “Knock it off,” Liz says from across the room. “You’re scaring me.”

  They’re not Liz’s fingers.

  That can mean only one thing….

  What happens next depends on how easily scared you get. Are you the type who flies into a panic? Or are you cool and collected when things get scary?

  Go ahead and test yourself. Hold out your hand away from your body. Can you keep your fingers perfectly still? Or do they wiggle and twitch?

  If you can keep them still, go to PAGE 10.

  If your fingers are trembling, even a little, go to PAGE 120.

  The two men in doctor’s masks drag you and Liz off the belt. “Two more for steaming,” says one. “Dr. Wicked will be pleased.”

  They roughly load you and Liz into separate test tubes, close the glass doors, and seal them. “They’re going to steam us!” your mind screams. “We’ll die!”

  Already you have to fight for breath. You’ve always been frightened of enclosed places. It’s hard not to panic!

  Your mind races, trying to come up with a plan. Now that you’re away from the sleeping gas, you feel strength returning to your arms and legs. Maybe you can break out of this contraption! But what about the two men?

  Besides, once the steaming starts — whatever it is — you’ll probably need all the strength you can muster. Maybe you should lie low, try to conserve air and energy, and hope you come out alive….

  What’ll it be?

  If you fight to escape, go to PAGE 107.

  If you stand perfectly still to save oxygen, go to PAGE 47.

  The next thing you know, you’re lying on the floor, staring up at a lavender ceiling. You feel all right. Kind of limp, but all right. “I think I’ll get up and look around,” you say to yourself.

  But when you try to sit up, you get the shock of your life. Your body won’t obey you. All you can do is ooze a little.

  “What’s happening?” you whimper. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a skin rug on the floor nearby. It’s freckled. And it has a mop of red hair on top. And it’s pulsing slowly.

  With a shock, you realize it’s Liz. Liz without her bones!

  It’s all coming back to you now. The Deboner machine. That’s why you can’t move. You’ve been deboned! You no longer have a skeleton! You’re just an envelope of skin!

  Make no bones about it, this is …

  THE END.

  “I can’t get in this car,” you say reluctantly. “I’d get in big trouble with my parents.”

  “What?” Liz explodes. “Jake’s in danger and all you can think about is what your parents will say? You wimp! Fine, stay there. I’m getting into the limo.”

  She climbs into the long black car. You stand on the pavement, feeling like an idiot. Then you hear her give a cry of surprise. “Jake!”

  Huh? You bend down and peer into the car’s interior. Sure enough, there’s Jake, loun
ging on the buttery leather seat with his red sneakers propped on an embroidered footrest. He raises his soda can to you. “See you later, sucker,” he calls.

  “Wait! How did you get there?” you demand. But it’s too late. The car door slams in your face. Dimly through the tinted window, you can see Liz and Jake inside. It looks as if they’re laughing. Laughing at you, probably.

  A deep, threatening voice behind you makes you spin around.

  Spin to PAGE 100.

  “I still think we should help Axel,” you tell Liz. “No matter how awful he is, this horrible Deboner is worse!”

  Liz looks doubtful. “All right,” she says at last.

  The drill is almost touching Axel’s chest by now. You rush over and yank on the Deboner’s electrical cord.

  Sparks shoot from the outlet as the machine is unplugged. Slowly the drill stops turning. The claws drop Axel into the giant funnel. He picks himself up and climbs out.

  “Thank you,” he cries, hugging you and Liz. Tears pour down his bare cheekbones. “I’m so touched! No one’s ever done anything nice for me before! You two are real friends.”

  “Great!” Liz grins. “So you’ll let us go, right?”

  Axel shakes his skull sadly. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I can’t do that. Miss Sybil would never forgive me.”

  Liz glares at you. “I knew I never should have listened to you!” she yells. “Come on, let’s run!”

  “Wait!” Axel cries.

  Turn to PAGE 54.

  BEWARE!!

  DO NOT READ THIS

  BOOK FROM

  BEGINNING TO END!

  It’s bad enough that your mom thinks you still need a baby-sitter. Then Zoe from the KidsCare Agency turns up at your door. Whoa! Zoe has a rat tattooed on her ear. You have a feeling bad just got worse.

  Zoe offers you a choice: fun? Or games? Whatever you choose, prepare for a scare! Can you take the horrors of the Fun Zone? Escape the Bottomless Ball Pit? Survive the swirling Sand Blob? Beat the evil games-master Dare at his own games?

  This scary adventure is all about you. You decide what will happen. And you decide how terrifying the scares will be!

  Start on PAGE 1. Then follow the instructions at the bottom of each page. You make the choices.

  If you choose well, you may survive your baby-sitter nightmare. But if you make the wrong choice … BEWARE!

  SO TAKE A DEEP BREATH. CROSS YOUR FINGERS. AND TURN TO PAGE 1 TO GIVE YOURSELF GOOSEBUMPS!

  DING DONG!

  “Get the door, please!” your mom calls from upstairs. “It’s the baby-sitter from Fun and Games KidsCare.”

  “I’m too old for a baby-sitter!” you yell for the hundredth time. “Stinko’s the one who needs a baby-sitter. Or maybe a zookeeper would be better!”

  “Mom!” your six-year-old brother whines. “I’m not a stinko!”

  “Stop calling your brother that silly name,” your mother scolds as she hurries down the stairs. “I don’t have time for arguments. Dad is waiting for me in the car.” She smoothes her hair. “Now, answer the door and be nice. I don’t want you torturing this baby-sitter like you did the last one.”

  “Who, me?” you ask innocently.

  Your mother rolls her eyes.

  DING DONG! DING DONG!

  “I’m coming. I’m coming.” You shuffle to the door and throw it open.

  And come face-to-face with a giant pink bubble.

  Turn to PAGE 2.

  POP! The huge bubble bursts in the face of a mousy-looking girl. “Hey,” she greets you. She peels the gum glob off the tip of her pointy nose. “How’s it going?”

  You check her out. Straight brown hair hangs down to her waist. A long tie-dyed skirt and tank top droop on her thin frame. You know the perfect word for this girl: hippie!

  Your mom joins you at the door. “Are you Mary Ellen?”

  “Zoe,” the hippie corrects her. “From KidsCare.” She marches past you and your mom, straight into your living room. “Sorry if I’m late. Traffic was nuts. Some car went into a ditch.”

  “I thought our baby-sitter’s name was Mary Ellen.” Your mom steps toward Zoe. But then your dad honks the horn in the driveway. Your mom shrugs. “I must have heard wrong.”

  “No prob,” Zoe says. She tucks her hair behind one ear.

  Your eyes widen when you spot the tattoo of a rat on her earlobe. You’ve seen some strange tattoos, but a rat? Weird!

  Zoe notices you looking at her ear. She quickly yanks her hair back into place. Then she smiles at your mom. “You go enjoy your weekend. Zoe will take care of everything.”

  For some reason, you don’t like the way Zoe said that.

  Turn to PAGE 3.

  “Um, Mom?” you begin. Then you stop yourself. You complained all day about having a baby-sitter. You’d seem like a real baby if you confessed that Zoe makes you nervous.

  “We’ll be back the day after tomorrow,” your mom promises. Then she gives you a hard look. “And I expect everything to go just fine here.”

  “Never fear, KidsCare is here,” Zoe recites. She reaches into her huge shoulder bag and pulls out a bag of chips. She starts munching.

  Was it your imagination, or did Zoe say “KidScare”?

  Zoe shuts the door behind your mom. You jump when the phone rings.

  “I’ll get it!” Stinko hollers. He races to the phone. “Hello!” he bleats into the receiver. “Mary Ellen? There’s no Mary Ellen here. Oh, you’re Mary Ellen. Well, that’s okay. We already have a baby-sitter. Bye!” He hangs up.

  “What was that about?” you ask.

  “Some baby-sitter named Mary Ellen,” Stinko replies. “Her car went off the road. But don’t worry. I told her we already have a baby-sitter and we don’t need another one.”

  “Mary Ellen?” you repeat.

  Turn to PAGE 65.

  R.L. Stine’s books are read all over the world. So far, his books have sold more than 300 million copies, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written the teen series Fear Street and the funny series Rotten School, as well as the Mostly Ghostly series, The Nightmare Room series, and the two-book thriller Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and Minnie, his King Charles spaniel. You can learn more about him at www.RLStine.com.

  Goosebumps book series created by Parachute Press, Inc.

  Copyright © 1996 by Scholastic Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, GOOSEBUMPS, GOOSEBUMPS HORRORLAND, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First edition, December 1996

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-84172-6

 

 

 
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