by Laura Dower
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CHAPTER 1 - BIGGER THAN RODIAK
CHAPTER 2 - WHAT’S A DORK LIKE ME DOING IN VIP?
CHAPTER 3 - THERE’S NO ESCAPING FROM THE GOO, ESPECIALLY NOT FOR YOU
CHAPTER 4 - ONE BLUUURP BEYOND
CHAPTER 5 - THE GREAT FLOOD
CHAPTER 6 - MY TEACHER IS MISSING!
CHAPTER 7 - THE NINJA KNOWS
CHAPTER 8 - ON TOP OF NERVE MOUNTAIN
CHAPTER 9 - DANGER MAN
CHAPTER 10 - DOCTOR LEERY, I PRESUME?
CHAPTER 11 - SMELLS LIKE FEET
CHAPTER 12 - DO NOT TOUCH... OR ELSE
CHAPTER 13 - CURSES ! SLIMO AGAIN!
CHAPTER 14 - WELCOME TO MOLDY CITY
CHAPTER 15 - THWUNK
CHAPTER 16 - A SIZZLE IN THE AIR
LOOK OUT FOR BOOK 2: RETURN OF MEGA MANTIS
GROSSET & DUNLAP
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Text copyright © 2009 by Laura Dower. Illustrations copyright © 2009 by Grosset & Dunlap. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. S.A.
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For Papa.
With special thanks to Forrest Ackerman, aka Forry, the king of B-Monster movies; master of the monster pun; and real-life inspiration for Oswald Leery.
—Laura Dower
To Genna . . . who said I always could do this.
—Dave Schlafman
PROLOGUE
JESSE RANGER
There are a zillion things that make my hometown of Riddle weird. Like Tricks, the three-legged dog that hangs outside the library and growls at you if you have overdue books. Or the three gigantic windmills that just appeared one day out on Route 5. Or stores at Petroglyph Mall that everyone swears are haunted. But nothing in Riddle rates higher on the weird-o-meter than Leery Castle. It sits at the top of Nerve Mountain, all creepy and quiet, like it’s watching me.
I’m beginning to think that maybe it is.
Leery Castle was built in the early 1900s. The first Leery to live there was Lucas Leery. He made silent movies. Then there was Desmond Leery, Lucas Leery’s son. He was born in 1910 and made movies with his father. Together they made some of the most well-known movies of the time: dramas, romances, thrillers, and comedies. They created a new filming technique with a special camera no one had ever seen before. It made everything pop off the screen, almost like 3-D vision, but without funny glasses. People loved it.
Then Oswald Leery came along. He’s Lucas Leery’s grandson. When he inherited the family movie business, Oswald Leery decided to make only one kind of movie: the monster movie. But his movie monsters weren’t your typical Frankenstein or Wolf Man. Leery’s monsters had crooked fangs, laser-beam eyes, and fake blood like ketchup. You could actually see on-screen where fur was glued on. They had funny names like Rodiak and Chomp-O.
Critics made fun of Leery’s movies. They called his creatures B-Monsters. But Leery didn’t mind the name. He loved it so much that he renamed the special Leery family filming process B-Monster Vision. It made even the most fake-looking monsters come alive on-screen. With B-Monster Vision, flying bats seemed to fly for real, off the screen and right into my face.
Tuesday is the one night each week that Mom works late at the art gallery, so Dad and I always watch movies together during dinner. It was on a rainy Tuesday night last year when Dad showed me my first-ever Oswald Leery B-Monster double feature: Bog Beast and Island of Dr. Dim.
I will never forget the exact moment when the Bog Beast jumps out of the swamp and swallows this mutant crocodile in one gulp. I snorted chocolate milk out of my nose—I was that scared. But I couldn’t look away. Those special effects were so bad, they were great.
I’ve been hooked on Bs ever since.
All in all, Leery made sixty-three B-Monster movies, including sequels. I wish he had made even more. But seventeen years ago, he stopped making Bs—just like that.
Dad says that one day Leery disappeared into his castle and never came out again.
Most people in Riddle say that Leery went bonkers. But I don’t think that’s possible. The guy was a genius—not nuts. I should know: My Great Uncle Rich was a stuntman for B-Monsters once. He and Leery were best buds.
Other people think maybe Leery got a bad case of agoraphobia. That means he got so afraid of public places that he couldn’t leave his castle anymore. But he’s not agora-anything. He always loved his fans. Oswald Leery used to give guided tours of his castle to show off his huge collection of B-Monster stuff. Dad told me Great Uncle Rich took him inside the castle a few times when Dad was a kid.
Here’s what I think.
I think maybe Leery got spooked by one of his own monsters. Just the smell of Slimo is supposed to be enough to make someone’s nose fall off. Or maybe, just maybe, Leery woke up one day with a terrible case of amnesia and just forgot how to make movies.
It could happen. Riddle is the land of the weird, after all.
Since I started watching Bs, I’ve written Oswald Leery a letter every week. I have told him all of my favorite parts from each of his films, asked him about how all the special effects were done, and, every time, I’ve asked him for the real reason he’s still hiding out up there in his castle.
Forty-eight letters later, no one has written back yet. Not even a postcard. And I’ve been losing hope, letter by letter.
But I won’t give up.
Someday, I want to make my own cool movies.
I want the best director in the whole universe to tell me everything I need to know about fake blood, warty bumps, and all the other secrets of the Bs.
I want to visit Leery Castle and see all the same things my dad saw when he was a kid.
And, if I’m really lucky, I want to do all these things before I get out of fifth grade.
CHAPTER 1
BIGGER THAN RODIAK
“Get away from me, you . . . BUG!” a woman with red hair howl
ed.
A horned black beetle the size of a soda can whizzed behind her. It landed next to her, and its sharp pointed pincers were open, ready to strike.
“Heeyaaaah!” the woman yelped.
She stomped on the beetle with the heel of her shoe. With one earsplitting crunch, bug guts sprayed all over the place.
“That’s enough of you!” she cried, wiping beetle juice off her glasses.
Clickety click. Clickety click.
The woman spun around in the darkness. Where was that noise coming from? There was a switch here, somewhere. Where?
There. Click.
A bright yellow light flooded the room.
“Nooooo!”
She was surrounded by an army of beetles just like the one she had crushed! Wings spread out like armor! Antennae twitched!
Clickety clickety click click click . . .
“Aaaaaaaah!”
The woman screamed and scrambled onto a couch. But it was too late for escape. There were too many enormous beetles scuttling toward her across the floor, like a moving carpet.
Click.
Our kitchen television winked off.
“Dad!” I exclaimed. “It was just getting to the good part.”
“You mean when the beetles crawl back out of her ears?” Dad asked, smirking.
I nodded. “My favorite scene ever.”
“Let’s save it,” Dad said. “We can watch it together later when we eat dinner. Don’t you have homework to do?”
“Did it. During recess,” I replied. “Just like every Tuesday, Dad.”
Dad shrugged. “I should know better. Nothing gets in the way of B-Monster nights.”
“Ha, ha, ha! Nothing!” I cackled like one of the giant alien turkeys in the B-Monster classic, Space Birds Gone Wild.
“If only I could invent a force as magnificent as B-Monster Vision,” Dad said thoughtfully. “Now that would be something.”
I smiled. The truth was, Dad probably could invent something as cool as B-Monster Vision. His name is A. E. Ranger. The A and E stand for Albert and Einstein, just like the famous scientist. Dad is part scientist, part inventor, and part meteorologist, which is really just a fancy-schmancy word for weather guy. Last year he invented a cool machine, the Robo-Toaster, which grills secret codes onto sandwiches.
“Want spaghetti or macaroni and cheese tonight?” Dad asked.
“Mac,” I said. “With extra cheese, please.” I could live on a diet of cheesy noodles, Gatorade, and Blow Pops.
Even though the TV was off now, I still had B-Monster beetles on the brain. If you’re not careful, Bs can spoil your appetite for dinner.
“Put those into recycling, okay?” Dad asked, pointing to a pile of newspapers.
I grabbed the papers and threw them into a large blue recycling container under our kitchen counter. Dad takes saving the planet seriously and so do I.
As I dropped the papers into the bin, a bright orange flyer caught my eye. It had a blurry photo of an old, old man on it. I recognized the mustache, hair, and glasses immediately.
“Dad! Look!” I cried, waving it in the air. It was an insert from yesterday’s local newspaper. “It’s Oswald Leery!”
“Read it.”
My eyes raced across the page. Oswald Leery’s wrinkles were so deep in the picture that they looked like someone had drawn on his face with Magic Markers. The caption read, “Legendary Riddle film director to make last-minute appearance at local library.”
That gave me prickles all over.
“Jess,” Dad said patiently. “Why don’t you read it out loud?”
“Dad!” I blurted. “This is for today! This can’t be for real. Is this for real?”
Dad’s eyes were as wide as mine.
“Looks real to me,” Dad mumbled.
“Why do you think he’s making a last-minute appearance now?” I asked Dad. “How could I not have heard about it? Why didn’t Ms. Shenanigans tell me? She knows how much I like the B-Monsters—”
“Take a breath, Jess,” Dad said. “Why don’t you call and see if you can still make the screening?”
Dad was right. Quickly, I dialed the main number at the library.
Busy!
Everything inside of me wanted to scream. This was way more than just some ordinary event at the library. This was big; maybe even bigger than Rodiak, the biggest B-Monster of all time! I took a great gulp of air and tried to relax, like Dad said, but relaxing was impossible. It’s not every day that your biggest dream in the world falls into your recycling basket.
I dialed again.
Still busy!
It was already 5:15 P.M.
“Dad?” I asked, tapping my foot as I hit redial over and over. “Can we get all your old issues of B-Monster Galaxy down from the attic so I can get them signed tonight?”
Dad laughed. “All of them? Really?” he asked. “There are at least three huge cartons. We don’t have time . . .”
“What about your B-Monster trading card collection?”
“Jesse,” Dad said with a sigh. “The entire collection? I doubt Mr. Leery will have time to sign any of that stuff. Why don’t you try to call—”
“Shhhh!” I cried. “It’s ringing. Someone’s picking up the phone.”
“Hello?”
“Hello!” I gasped into the receiver. “Ms. Shenanigans? This is Jesse Ranger from the fifth-grade reading club, remember me?”
“Of course, Jesse,” Ms. Shenanigans said. “How can I help you?”
“I need to reserve a spot for the Oswald Leery screening. It’s still tonight, right?”
“Right. But, I’m sorry, Jesse, that event is full.”
“Full?”
I felt all the air hiss out of me like a popped balloon.
“Oh, wait!” Ms. Shenanigans clucked. “Your name is already on our VIP list.”
“Huh?”
“Yes, it’s right here. Jesse Ranger!” she cheered. “At the very top of my list.”
I had no idea how my name got on that list, but I wasn’t going to question it. There was no time for questions now.
“If you’re coming, you’d better hurry up,” Ms. Shenanigans said. “Even our VIP seats fill up fast!”
“Okay. I’ll be there in a snap!”
I hung up the phone and bent down to tighten my sneaker laces.
“Dad!” I yelled. “Warm up the car! We have somewhere to go and no time to get there!”
CHAPTER 2
WHAT’S A DORK LIKE ME DOING IN VIP?
I nearly tripped headfirst off our bottom porch step as we raced for the car. My shoelaces had come undone already! They always do that.
Dad grabbed me by the back of my T-shirt and heaved me up. We got into the car. Dad turned the ignition key.
Chut-chut-chut.
My eyes fell on the digital car clock. 6:02.
“We’re going to be late, Dad,” I gasped.
“Jesse, we’ll make it,” Dad said with a wide smile. He leaned on the gas pedal and we revved into the road.
I breathed a sigh of relief, like Roger Rogers, the hero from Slimo and other Bs. Roger always says “Ready to bust some heads!” and “Motor on, monster!” Stuff like that.
“Don’t tell Mom that we missed dinner, okay?” Dad said. He handed me a plastic shopping bag with a yogurt, banana, and plastic spoon. “Eat this, will you?”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” I told him, putting the bag on the floor. “I’m not even that hungry.”
I was still thinking about the whole VIP library list. I knew VIP stood for very important person, but what did that have to do with me? Who put me on the list? I couldn’t shake the thought that something really weird was going on.
Thankfully the screening was on a Tuesday—Mom’s late night at work.
If she had been here, Mom probably would have dreamed up ten reasons to keep me home, especially since everything had happened at the last minute. For starters, Mom hates to rush. For another thing, she doesn’t g
et the whole B-Monster world, no matter how many times I try to explain it.
“I really wish I could go to see Leery with you,” Dad said as he changed lanes and sped up. It was 6:12.
“Me too,” I said. “I can’t believe you’ve never seen Slimo on the big screen.”
“Too bad you didn’t have time to call Garth. You two would have had fun.”
Garth Gable is my funniest friend at Riddle Elementary. We like a lot of the same things: hockey, Ring Dings, Xbox, Chinese water dragons, and bettas. I just wish that Garth loved B-Monsters as much as me. But sometimes it’s hard to convince friends to like the same stuff that you do, no matter how hard you try. Whenever I try to get Garth to watch Bs with me, he always finds an excuse to go home.
We pulled into the library parking lot by 6:16, our best time ever. Dad parked behind a minivan and dropped me at the curb.
“Jesse,” Dad said, “I’ll come back to pick you up at eight-thirty. I don’t know if I’ll be able to park, so meet me right here out front.”
“Bye, Dad!” I jumped out of the car, slammed the door, and waved good-bye.
What a mob! There must have been a hundred kids climbing the steps toward the library’s enormous carved wooden doors. There were a few adults, too, like stray moms and dads who’d come to drop off their kids and a few other grown-ups trying to sneak in on their own. It reminded me of that terrible scene in Leery’s classic, Mega Mantis, where everyone in town gets chased by the swarm of super flies.
One guy pushed just ahead of me in the crowd. He had on dark glasses and a black leather jacket. And he was definitely not a kid! He actually looked like a super fly.
But something about him seemed familiar, too. I recognized a pair of blue-green sneakers. Hey! It was my science teacher!
“Mr. Bunsen?”
The crowd rushed forward.
“Mr. Bunsen?”
I tried peering over everyone’s head, but I lost sight of him.
What was Mr. Bunsen doing here?
