Monsters on the March

by Derek the Ghost

  “It must have been Charles Nukid. You didn’t eat him, did you?”

  “No, I had three helpings of maggot pancakes for breakfast. Lucky for him I was full. So I sent him to Ms. T for detention.”

  “Okay, that’s fine. But for future reference, Charles is actually the only student who wears the school uniform. All the other children refuse to wear it because it looks so atrocious. I did that on purpose, you see.”

  “On purpossse? Why?”

  “I am secretly keeping track of all the students who don’t wear the school uniform. If any parents complain that their child was turned into a zombie or fell into the lava pool or got their fingers bitten off by the Venus flytraps, I can say, ‘Look. Your child has been out of uniform three hundred days in a row. What did you expect?’ And that settles the issue.”

  Ms. Hydra’s seventh head said, “That’s a sssssuper idea. I guess that’s why you’re the principal.”

  “Oh, stop being such a sssssssuck-up!” said the third head.

  “I’m thirsty!” said the second head.

  “You’re always thirsty,” said the eighth head. “Why don’t you remember to bring a water bottle?”

  “Hey, we share the same pockets. You forgot the water too!” replied the second head.

  Principal Headcrusher finally butted in. “That will be all, Ms. Hydra. Please go back to patrolling the hallways.”

  “Yesss, right away,” piped the seventh head.

  “No, wait!” said the fifth head. “There’s that other thing.”

  “Oh, right,” said the first head. “Principal, we heard that you were taking the sssstudents to meet the Monster King.”

  “That’s right,” said Principal Headcrusher.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea? Haven’t you heard the sssstory?”

  Principal Headcrusher leaned forward with keen interest.

  “What story?” she asked.

  Ms. Hydra’s nine heads started swiveling back and forth to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. A bead of sweat dripped down each of her nine necks.

  “What story?” Principal Headcrusher prodded.

  5

  King Zog the Terrible (But Always Pleasant Smelling)

  “The story of King Zog the Terrible,” all of Ms. Hydra’s nine heads whispered as one.

  The second head added, “But Always Pleasant Smelling.”

  The other eight heads nodded in agreement about King Zog’s ever-present pleasant odor.

  At that point, all nine of Ms. Hydra’s heads began telling the story of King Zog’s rise to power. When she finished, Principal Headcrusher ordered Ms. Hydra to tell the story to every class. The details would undoubtedly save many students’ lives.

  Ms. Hydra entered Mr. Grump’s sixth-grade class. Having a twenty-foot monitor lizard with nine heads enter the class unannounced was so horrifying, the class ducked under their desks and covered their heads. Mr. Grump had no idea who Ms. Hydra was (even though they had had a pleasant conversation that morning). He trumpeted his snout in fear and jumped out the window. Fred, the boy the without fear, was the only one who remained seated at his desk, still totally certain he was dreaming.

  The class was too afraid of Ms. Hydra to pay close attention to her story, so I decided to take over. Ms. Hydra went to King Khufu’s class, who were more used to learning from a terrifying teacher.

  “To begin with,” I said to Mr. Grump’s class, “you’ll need to know what defines a monster. There are many well-known species of monsters, but there is one common trait that unites them: They all smell terrible.”

  The class laughed, thinking about stinky monsters.

  I continued, “Each monster has a unique odor. It can smell like a combination of skunk juice, spoiled cheese, sweaty feet, rotting fish, boiled liver, or dinosaur burps. The smellier the creature, the more respected it is in the monster community.

  “In the history of monsters, only the ones with the foulest odor have ever become a king or queen. That’s why when Zog was born smelling like fresh-baked cookies, rushing waterfalls, and fields of lavender in springtime, nobody gave him much of a chance to amount to anything.”

  The girls cooed, thinking about those lovely smells.

  “Zog was born with the head of a giant toad, the body of a walrus, and the tail of a scorpion. By the looks of him, he should have smelled atrocious, but the more he rolled in muck and filth, the more he smelled like a summer breeze in a peach orchard.

  “His parents hoped that his foul odor would develop with age, but it didn’t. After several years, he still smelled like a barrel of sweet potpourri. One day, the Monster Patrol sniffed out his appallingly pleasant odor and locked him away in the Dungeon of Rot until he started smelling like a real monster.

  “Heartbroken, Zog’s parents bravely stormed the dungeon to free their son. They managed to break a hole in the wall with their mighty nose horns, giving Zog an opening to escape.

  “Zog ran as fast as he could through Monster Forest, using all the strength of his horse legs. Did I mention Zog has horse legs? He has horse legs. The patrol monsters frantically chased after him, but in the end, he managed to outrun them. His parents, however, were not so fast and were captured and locked away in the dungeon.”

  The class was sad, thinking about what they would do if they were left without parents.

  “Lost and alone, Zog wandered the wilderness until he found a hidden valley. It turned out, a whole society of sweet-smelling monsters was living there. They liked Zog and decided to adopt him.”

  The class exhaled in relief that Zog had found a new family.

  “Scared of being discovered, the monsters kept quiet at all times. They tried to become as unmonsterlike as possible and had very good manners. They always ate their meals with a fork and knife. They said ‘excuse me’ when they belched, which was often.

  “When Zog reached adulthood, he was elected leader of the sweet-smelling monsters. But rather than having them practice their manners, Zog began training the monsters in combat. Did I mention Zog’s father was a karate master who gave Zog karate lessons every day? Zog’s father was a karate master who gave Zog karate lessons every day.

  “Soon, Zog was in command of an army of warriors whom he called karate monsters. They were tough, but smelled like cake batter whisking in a French bakery. One of those monsters was Ms. Stingbottom, the fluffy pink monster with the head of a lion who taught us Monster Math last year.

  “Zog had never stopped missing his parents. He was bent on seeing them again to say thank you for freeing him.

  “On a windy summer day, Zog’s army stormed across the countryside until they reached the castle of Bub-Gub, the Monster King.

  “The palace guards fought fiercely, but hopelessly. Their undisciplined gnashing of teeth and flailing of claws was no match for well-trained karate monsters.

  “The army had soon made its way into the dungeon, where Zog’s parents were chained to the wall. Breaking their bonds, Zog hugged his parents so hard he nearly crushed them. Together, they roared with joy. If monsters had a word for love, they would have certainly said ‘I love you’ a thousand times.

  “Overrun, Bub-Gub the Monster King surrendered to Zog and pronounced him the new king of the monsters.

  “Thus began the reign of King Zog. His first decree was that all monsters were to be treated equally, whether they smelled like a rotting troll carcass or blooming cherry trees.

  “Now, you are probably wondering why Zog is called King Zog the Terrible when he seems to have done so much good. Here is why:

  “Along with his first decree, Zog also made another decree. He enjoyed the customs of the peaceful valley and declared that all monsters must practice perfect manners at all times. Failure to say please or thank you would lead to immediate punishment. An offender would be dismembered or eaten, depending on the offense.

  “Zog gave one seminar on perfect manners and then everyone was on their own. Many monsters lost their lives the next da
y when they burped at the dining table, picked food from their teeth, or forgot to write a thank-you note after receiving a gift.

  “One day, the newly formed Monster Manners Patrol caught five of Ms. Hydra’s heads staring at a good-looking dragon for more than three seconds. Staring was considered impolite and the Monster Patrol began chasing after her. Ms. Hydra had to flee for her life, leaving all of her friends and belongings behind.

  “So, even though there was a new king, things were still really bad. Only in a different way.”

  After I finished telling the story to Mr. Grump’s class, Petunia said, “We certainly can’t refuse the Monster King’s invitation to visit him. He would be insulted and could attack us.”

  Jason added, “But if any of us makes a mistake in our manners, we could be…”

  “Dismembered or eaten. Depending on the offense,” I answered.

  “Well, I guess that’s better than having the whole school attacked by an army of karate monsters,” said the smartest girl in class, Wendy Crumkin. “When we visit the king, we’ll just have to behave well enough to not get dismembered.”

  The rowdiest boys in class—Johnny, Ramon, and Peter—looked at their bodies and thought, Well, limbs, it was nice knowing you.

  6

  Tanya Tarantula

  On the fourth day of school, nobody had ever heard of Tanya Tarantula. By the fifth day of school, not only did everyone know her, she was the most popular girl at school. Despite the fact that she was a giant tarantula.

  When you think of a giant tarantula, you probably think of one the size of a baseball. Or, if you’re really imaginative, perhaps the size of a basketball. In either case, you’re not even close.

  On the fifth day of school, King Khufu asked the class, “Who can name the longest ruling female pharaoh of ancient Egypt?”

  At that moment, a tarantula the size of a shopping cart fell through the ceiling right on top of Bryce McCallister.

  Everyone in class screamed, thinking death upon swift wings was about to come to Bryce. But Tanya was more afraid of the students than they were of her. She jumped onto the floor and scurried all over the room, trying to find a place to hide.

  The students stood on their desks in fright, causing Tanya to display her fangs and raise her legs in defense.

  Charles Nukid was so scared, all of his hairs stood up on end. He had to spend the rest of the day putting them back into place.

  The children continued screaming until King Khufu ordered, “Silence!” Everyone immediately hushed up. Khufu pulled out a golden sword from his sarcophagus and slowly approached the quivering Tanya.

  Khufu was about to strike, so Tanya said the only thing she could think to say. She said, “Hatshepsut.”

  “What did you say?” asked Khufu.

  “Hatshepsut.”

  “God bless you,” said Cindy Chan.

  “No,” King Khufu interjected, “Hatshepsut is the answer to my question—the longest ruling female pharaoh of ancient Egypt. How remarkable.”

  King Khufu continued to pepper Tanya with questions, and she got every one of them right.

  Maybe you’re wondering how a giant tarantula could possibly know those answers. We will have to delve deeper into the life of this very special arachnid to discover the answers.

  To begin with, it is important to note that Tanya Tarantula never met her parents. The reason she never met her parents was because they were also giant tarantulas. Giant tarantulas are notoriously awful parents. In fact, as soon as their tarantula children are born, they consider their parenting job done and they abandon them to survive on their own.

  If your parents aren’t giant tarantulas, you should consider yourself very lucky.

  Until the moment Tanya was born, she had amazing parents. Her mom had laid a batch of five hundred eggs inside a very tight crevice on the side of a mountain on the outskirts of Monster Forest. Within the crevice, the eggs were protected from the elements. The only thing they were not safe from were the hundreds of monsters who could smell the eggs and would do anything to eat them.

  For three long months, Tanya’s parents, who were each about the size of the average camping tent, bravely fought off every monster who came to eat their eggs. The egg sacs were clear, so Tanya and her 499 brothers and sisters watched with pride as their parents took down monsters twice their size.

  Tanya and her siblings were sure that once they hatched, they would have the best parents in the world.

  On a summer morning the baby tarantulas emerged from their egg sacs. Their parents were overjoyed seeing every last one hatch unharmed. None had been eaten by a serpentiger or a jabberfox.

  Each baby giant tarantula was about the size of a starfish, which is about the size of a normal full-grown tarantula. They crawled out from the crevice and smelled the fresh air and felt the soft wind. The sensitive tarantula hairs that covered their brown-and-black bodies were like millions of specialized eyes, ears, and noses, telling them every detail about their surroundings.

  Sadly, the one thing they did not sense was their parents. As is the natural instinct of all tarantulas, the parents abandoned their children as soon as they were born. I can’t say I blame them. If I suddenly had five hundred children crying for attention, I’d probably run for the hills too. Hey, don’t judge. I’m only eleven!

  When they couldn’t find their parents, confusion quickly turned to fear. No longer did they have their mighty protectors.

  Unfortunately, their presence on the rock face was sensed by a different kind of creature—the tarantula hawk. You probably think that a tarantula hawk is a very nasty kind of bird that feeds on tarantulas. Well, that’s only half right. The tarantula hawk is actually a two-inch wasp that stings a tarantula into paralysis, then lays its eggs inside the stiff tarantula carcass for its larvae to grow inside and feast upon. The fact that it’s called a tarantula hawk instead of a tarantula wasp is another example of our ridiculous language often-times causing needless confusion.

  The swarm of tarantula hawks descended upon the five hundred baby giant tarantulas. Tanya’s brothers and sisters laughed because they were three times the size of the tarantula hawks and were sure those bugs stood no chance against them.

  Tanya, however, was quite a bit smarter than her brothers and sisters. She realized that if such small creatures were so willing to attack them, then they must have a secret weapon. She pleaded for her brothers and sisters to take cover on the ground underneath a fallen branch. Only nine of her brothers and sisters joined her.

  The rest remained to battle the tarantula hawks. It did not go well. The tarantulas raised their front legs and displayed their fangs (also known as chelicerae), but the tarantula hawks flew down with dizzying speed and delivered swift stings on the tarantulas’ vulnerable abdomens. All of Tanya’s siblings that had chosen to stay were stung, paralyzed, and dragged off by the merciless tarantula hawks to become incubators and first meals for the tarantula hawk larvae.

  Now, in the last book I mentioned that Scary School is without a doubt the most wholesome book series to be published in the last twenty years because of the important life lessons learned in the act of losing one’s life. This remains true: The baby tarantulas learned several important life lessons that day.

  They learned that when you’re a wild animal, following your instincts instead of your emotions is usually the best move. They also learned never to judge another creature by its size. Sometimes the smallest can be the most dangerous.

  Tragically, those tarantulas would never get to apply those life lessons because they were all dead, but the lessons were learned nonetheless.

  Tanya and her nine remaining siblings made their way across the leafy ground into the dark wilderness of Monster Forest. They crawled across the forest floor until they reached a rotting tree stump. There, they enjoyed their first meal of creamy, sour termites.

  Tanya looked at each of her siblings, and suddenly, an instinct kicked in to lead a life of complete solitu
de. As her siblings looked at her, she knew they were feeling the same thing.

  The baby giant tarantulas nodded in acknowledgment that it had been fun enjoying one meal together as a family. In the next instant, each turned around and scampered off in a different direction. They would never see one another again.

  For many weeks Tanya survived by her wits in Monster Forest. During the day, she hid inside logs and leaf piles. At night she would go out hunting for tasty crickets, beetles, and caterpillars. After one month she had doubled in size and was as big as a football.

  One summer day she was sleeping in a leaf pile when she felt a disturbance in the air.

  She heard a monster call out, “Here I go. Watch this!”

  The large monster made a running jump into the leaf pile. Tanya dashed out in the nick of time. The monster saw her.

  “Oofa,” said Larry the gargoyle. “I’ve always wanted a pet tarantula.”

  The gargoyle picked up Tanya and began gently petting her. Tanya wanted to bite the gargoyle, but she worried that her venom might not affect such a large creature. It would probably just get mad and squash her.

  The monsters were gargoyles on summer vacation from guarding Petrified Pavilion at Scary School.

  Harry the gargoyle looked at Tanya, remarking, “Oooh, it is cute. Let’s keep it.”

  They put Tanya in a basket and gave her the name Tanya. Tanya was not happy about being kept as the gargoyles’ pet, but she remembered what had happened to 490 of her brothers and sisters. Things could be worse.

  When the school year began, the gargoyles returned to Scary School. They kept Tanya with them atop Petrified Pavilion so that they always had something to play with. The gargoyles were nice enough, but Tanya still wanted to be alone.

  By winter, Tanya had doubled in size and was as big as a large dog. Fortune struck when the gargoyles saw a group of kids trying to sneak into Petrified Pavilion and took off after them. Tanya used the opportunity to make her escape.