by Greyson Mann
Also by Greyson Mann
The Creeper Diaries
Mob School Survivor
Creeper’s Got Talent
Creepin’ Through the Snow
New Creep at School
The Overworld Games
Creeper Family Vacation
Secrets of an Overworld Survivor
Lost in the Jungle
When Lava Strikes
Wolves vs. Zombies
Never Say Nether
The Witch’s Warning
This book is not authorized or sponsored by Microsoft Corp., Mojang AB, Notch Development AB or Scholastic Inc., or any other person or entity owning or controlling rights in the Minecraft name, trademark, or copyrights.
THE CREEPER DIARIES: THE OVERWORLD GAMES. Copyright © 2018 by Hollan Publishing, Inc.
Minecraft® is a registered trademark of Notch Development AB.
The Minecraft game is copyright © Mojang AB.
This book is not authorized or sponsored by Microsoft Corp., Mojang AB, Notch Development AB or Scholastic Inc., or any other person or entity owning or controlling rights in the Minecraft name, trademark, or copyrights.
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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.
Special thanks to Erin L. Falligant.
Cover illustration by Amanda Brack
Cover design by Brian Peterson
Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-5107-3114-1
E-book ISBN: 978-1-5107-3116-5
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
DAY 1: TUESDAY
DAY 2: WEDNESDAY
DAY 5: SATURDAY (MORNING)
DAY 6: SATURDAY (AFTERNOON)
DAY 6: SUNDAY
DAY 8: TUESDAY
DAY 9: WEDNESDAY
DAY 11: FRIDAY
DAY 13: SUNDAY
DAY 15: TUESDAY (MORNING)
DAY 15: TUESDAY (NIGHT)
DAY 16: WEDNESDAY (MORNING)
DAY 16: WEDNESDAY (NIGHT)
DAY 19: SATURDAY
DAY 19: SUNDAY
DAY 22: TUESDAY
DAY 24: THURSDAY
DAY 26: SATURDAY
DAY 27: SUNDAY
DAY 28: MONDAY (MORNING)
DAY 28: MONDAY (NIGHT)
DAY 30: WEDNESDAY
DAY 31: THURSDAY
DAY 1: TUESDAY
So, the Overworld Games are coming at the end of the month. Whoop-de-do.
Some mobs think it’s the most exciting event of the year—the best thing to EVER happen at Mob Middle School. I mean, every mob at school is talking about it. Blah, blah, blah. They’re all counting down the days until May 30.
But me? Not so much.
See, I’m not really big on Sprinting. Or Strategic Explosions. Or Spider Riding. I’d much rather be writing rap songs—or drawing. How come THOSE aren’t events in the Overworld Games???
I tried Sprinting last fall, but I wasn’t very fond of that particular extracurricular. In fact, it took me months to convince my parents to let me quit. So the LAST thing I’m going to do is sign right back up again.
And Strategic Explosions? I’ll leave that one to Chloe, my Evil Twin, who likes to blow sky high every chance she gets.
I can’t believe we ever shared the same creeper egg, me and Chloe. But Mom has the birth certificates to prove it, so . . . I finally stopped arguing about that one.
As for Spider Riding, don’t even get me started. I’d rather walk across hot lava than ride a nasty spider with a bunch of spider jockeys. No sirree. I steer clear of jocks like Bones and his gang, who have made my life miserable since day one of sixth grade.
Did I mention that ALL the middle schools in the Overworld come out for the Games? So my school will be competing against the toughest mobs from the Taiga, the Jungle, and the Extreme Hills. I even heard that schools are coming from the NETHER.
That’s right. Mr. Carl told us about it at a school assembly last night. “The Nether Fire Breathers are joining the Overworld Games for the first time ever!” he said.
He sounded so EXCITED, as if his news would make us all jump off the bleachers and race to the sign-up sheets. As if we all couldn’t WAIT to get out there to compete against a crazy bunch of wither skeletons and zombie pigmen!
Well, let me tell you right now, I won’t be signing up. Gerald Creeper Junior is one name you will NOT see on that list.
During the rest of the assembly, I crept down about as low as I could in my seat. See, Mr. Carl was my sprinting coach last fall, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to try to get me to sign up for the sprinting event. I’ve been avoiding him all week.
But I swear he looked right at me when he asked for volunteers to help PLAN the Overworld Games. You could have heard an Ender Pearl drop in that auditorium, it got so quiet in there.
Then Whisper Witch raised her hand in the row in front of me. She’s not the most athletic witch in the swamp, so I get why she volunteered.
But me? No, thanks. I won’t be planning the Overworld Games. I won’t be competing in them. In fact, I think I’m going to sit them out altogether.
I figured it out at home today, when I was supposed to be sleeping. (How’s a creeper supposed to sleep when he keeps having daymares of being chased by a herd of zombie pigmen?)
Nope, I decided I’m going to BOYCOTT the Overworld Games. That means I’m not even going to go, kind of like how Dad boycotted family dinners when Mom was on her “going green” kick. She started serving brussels sprouts every single night, so Dad just stopped showing up. We found out later he was getting dinner over at the Creeper Café. And that’s when Mom got OFF her green kick, and things got back to normal around here.
Except it didn’t last long. Like tonight at dinner, Mom wasn’t even at the table. She was in the backyard feeding her chickens, which is her NEW kick. It seems like every month, Mom’s trying something new. And she doesn’t just dip her creeper toes in. She dives ALL in. She’s got overalls and a straw hat. She’s got chickens that lay eggs. And she’s got eggs that are going to hatch into chickens one of these days.
She’s even got a sheep in the backyard named Sock. But that’s a whole other story.
So I probably should have boycotted dinner, because that’s when the day got REALLY stressful. I’m not talking about Dad’s cooking, even though that’s nothing to brag about. My Evil Twin, Chloe, was shoveling down those half-baked potatoes, probably because she’s been training hard for the Overworld Games. My baby sister Cammy doesn’t mind Dad’s cooking, either. She’s too young to know any better.
But me? I like my potatoes roasted to a crisp, NOT raw and crunchy. So I’ve been losing weight since Dad started cooking. I’m down about five pounds of gunpowder, which is just another reason to boycott the Overworld Games. How’s a creeper supposed to compete when he’s shrinking before his very eyes?
At the table across from me, my older sister Cate wasn’t eating either. I call he
r the Fashion Queen, because she’s always dressed up in different wigs and skins and makeup. But tonight? She was plain old creeper green, like me. She “needs some new inspiration,” she’s been saying. Well, she’s sure not going to find it from Dad’s cooking.
But like I said, it wasn’t Dad’s cooking that stressed me out tonight. It was the way Dad reacted when I told about the Overworld Games.
I thought he was going to blow up with excitement, right there at the dinner table. Usually, it’s my baby sister Cammy who does the exploding. That’s why we call her the Exploding Baby. But tonight, it was Dad. He burst out of his chair and said, “This is IT, Gerald. This is your chance to make your Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald proud!”
See, I’m named Gerald after my dad. And he’s named Gerald after his dad. And we Gerald Creepers go all the way back to my Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald, who I guess helped start the Overworld Games.
I don’t hold it against him, though. Because me and Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald are a lot alike, my dad is always saying. We’re both peaceful creepers who use our brains instead of our blasts. Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald was even a vegetarian. “He’d rather ride pigs than eat them,” Dad said tonight. “Oh, and Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald had a lot of great ideas. Just like you, Gerald.”
Dad made it sound like Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald and I are practically twins. Except that I DO like to eat burnt pork chops now and then. Oh, and I’m only 12, and if he were alive, he’d be like 112.
Anyway, Dad launched into the story again of how Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald invited mobs to come from all over the Overworld to compete in things like archery and sword fighting. “He wanted them to compete in a PEACEFUL way,” said Dad. “And he invited humans, too!”
Cate perked up at that. She used to have a thing for humans, especially this one boy named Steve. But that’s a whole other story.
“I’m pretty sure Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald didn’t invite wither skeletons and zombie pigmen to the Games,” I made the mistake of telling Dad.
That’s when he disappeared into his bedroom. Dad’s a pretty fast creeper when he wants to be. And he came out wearing a GOLD MEDAL around his neck. Turns out, Dad was in the Overworld Games when he was my age, and he won his event. Against a zombie pigman.
“Every Gerald Creeper has taken home a gold medal in the Overworld Games,” Dad said proudly. “And now, son, it’s your turn.”
Well, when I heard that, I panicked. I did what I do whenever I’m backed into a corner. I find someone else to throw under the minecart. I whirled around toward my Evil Twin and said, “What about Chloe? It’s her turn, too!”
Her eyes narrowed—at Dad, not at me. “Yeah, Dad,” she hissed. “What about me? Don’t you think I’m going to win the gold in Strategic Exploding?”
Dad kind of brushed her off with a “Yes, honey, of course.” I thought that was pretty lame, especially since Chloe is the only one around here who really appreciates Dad’s cooking. Then Dad went right back to admiring his gold medal, and I could see by the look in his eyes that he was imagining ME winning that medal too.
I want to make Dad proud—I really do. But here’s what you need to know about me and Dad: We don’t exactly have a lot in common. I’m an artist who likes drawing and making up rap songs. And Dad’s more of a sports guy. He can barely draw a straight line, and you do NOT want to see him rapping.
But Dad was right about one thing: I do have some genius ideas sometimes, just like Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald.
So now I’m back in my room, using my genius to figure out this Overworld Games situation. I figured it out the way I always do—by writing in my journal. And I came up with a plan for taking home the gold.
Say what? you ask. How does a creeper who is boycotting the games take home the gold? Well, thanks for asking. Here’s how:
I think it’s a good plan. Did I mention I’m kind of an expert Firework Crafter?
So now I’m feeling a WHOLE lot better about the Overworld Games. It’s amazing what a creeper can figure out with a little journaling and a genius brain.
DAY 2: WEDNESDAY
Last night at school, I marched right over to that sign-up sheet for the Overworld Games planning committee. Well, I made my good buddy Sam sign up first, because no creeper wants to go it alone on something like this.
So Sam bounced over and signed his name under Whisper Witch’s name: Sam Sebastian Slime. He always uses his middle name, like any mob at school won’t know it’s him.
And then I added my name too—all calm and cool, as if I’d just decided to do it. As if I wasn’t about to change the Overworld Games FOREVER with my genius ideas for new events.
When Sam and I got back to the lunch table, though, I mentioned a few of my ideas. Boy, was that a mistake. All my friends started chiming in.
Like when I brought up Firework Crafting, Ziggy Zombie took a big bite of his rotten-flesh sandwich and said, “I don’t know, Gerald. [CHOMP, CHEW, DROOL] Remember the [SMACK, SMUCK, SLURP] Mooshrooms?”
First of all, Ziggy Zombie really shouldn’t talk with his mouth full. Chunks of rotten flesh spewed all over the table. Second of all, why’d he have to go and bring up the Mooshrooms?
See, there’s this kid named Connor Creeper who REALLY gives us creepers a bad name.
He snuck fireworks onto the boat during a field trip to Mushroom Island and pretty much ruined the trip for the rest of us—AND for the Mooshrooms, who ran for the hills as if the sky was falling.
But that field trip was two MONTHS ago. And anyway, how is Firework Crafting any more dangerous than Sprinting? Ziggy signed up for Sprinting, which means he’s going up against zombie pigmen, for crying out loud. He really needs to stick to sandwich chewing and leave the thinking and planning to me.
So I said that I’d done PLENTY of Firework Crafting with my old buddy Cash Creeper before he moved away. And we’d never blown ourselves up, thank you very much. But if some mobs were too SCARED to make fireworks, we could always vote for Mushroom Flinging instead. See, I’m a pretty good flinger. Cash and I used to fling a lot of mushrooms back in the day. And there’s NOTHING dangerous about Mushroom Flinging.
But then Sam said, “You’re not going to fling the mushrooms at CATS, are you?”
He knows that I’ve flung the occasional mushroom at my neighbor’s cat, Sir Coughs-a-Lot. But I’ve never HURT him. I just annoy him. He hisses at me. I hiss back. And then we go our separate ways. It’s kind of our thing.
But Sam? He’s a cat lover. He’s pretty much besties with his cat, Moo. They’re always snuggling, or making cat videos with the Cat Cam, or sharing bowls of mushroom stew.
It’s pretty disgusting if you ask me. But Sam doesn’t ask, so I try to keep my mouth shut. Which is what I wish HE had done when I brought up Mushroom Flinging. If I can’t count on my friends to support my ideas, who can I count on?
Definitely not my family. Chloe, my Evil Twin, walked by the lunch table right about then and threw out another idea for an event. “How about Pig Riding, Gerald? Great-Great-Grandpa Gerald did that. And don’t you want to be JUST like him?” She shot me a super-fake smile and then crept away.
If I’d had a mushroom, I would have flung it at the back of her green head.
But Sam jumped all over that idea. “Pig Riding!” he said. “Yeah, I could do that!”
Well let me tell you, the LAST thing Sam should be doing is riding a pig. I don’t even want to picture it. It’d be like if Sam signed up for Strategic Exploding. One blast, and the entire OVERWORLD would be covered in oozing mini slimes.
So I had to shut Sam’s enthusiasm down right away—for his own good. “Here’s an even BETTER idea,” I said. “How about if you use your Cat Cam to VIDEO the Overworld Games? You could be like the official filmer!”
His eyes lit up like torches. Then he bounced over to the table full of eighth grade witches to tell his girlfriend, Willow Witch, all about it.
PHEW! Thank Golem for another genius idea. I ate the r
est of my burnt pork chop in peace.
Now I just have to make sure I’m ready for the planning committee meeting on Friday. I’ve already made a list of what we’ll need for Firework Crafting, just in case Mr. Carl asks.
I think Mr. Carl will be pretty impressed with my list. I mean, if I’ve learned one thing in my middle school career, it’s that a creeper has to be prepared.
DAY 5: SATURDAY (MORNING)
Did I say it’s good to be prepared? Well, so much for THAT.
I went to school last night all fired up to get Fireworks Crafting into the Overworld Games. I had my list of materials. I threw on some of my sister Cate’s gunpowder perfume, just so the room would smell like fireworks. I even wore my itchy red-and-white–striped socks, which kind of look like firework rockets. Mom made them for me when she was on a knitting kick.
The last thing I did before I left the house was grab my lucky petrified mushroom—the one Cash Creeper gave me before he moved away. It’s not petrified like TERRIFIED. It’s petrified like ALL DRIED UP. So I can hide it in my room or bring it to school without it rotting and stinking up the joint.
I feel better having that mushroom with me. See, Cash was my very first partner in the fireworks business. So if I have the mushroom at the planning meeting, it will be kind of like CASH is sitting there next to me, too.
But guess what? After ALL that preparing, we barely even TALKED about events at the planning meeting!
Instead, Mr. Carl started talking about our mascot. I didn’t even know what our mascot was until he put on an old sports jersey. It had a silverfish on it and the words “Mob Middle School Silverfish.”
