by R. L. Stine
“They are all mine. Hic, hic,” Mama answered. “They’re adopted. From a dog pound.”
The Perfects gasped. “A dog pound?”
Mama thought hard. “No, maybe it wasn’t a dog pound. They didn’t have any dogs. They only had kids. Hic, hic.”
“How many?” Parker Perfect asked. “How many kids do you have?”
Mama rubbed her chin. “Well . . . hic, hic. There were ten. But last time I looked, there were only nine.”
Patty Perfect uttered a shocked cry. “You lost one?”
Mama shrugged. “It happens.”
FORTY
Brainy Janey here. I was bursting with pride. When I rented Mama and brought her home, I had no idea she would be so perfectly annoying.
I hoped she would be able to get rid of the Perfects. And she was doing her job really well—almost too well.
I think everyone in the room wanted to scream. And tear their hair out and bang their foreheads against the wall and jab pencils into their eyeballs and plug up their ears and twist their heads off.
Mama was having that effect on everyone.
Even Pooper hid in a corner and covered his ears—and eyes—with his paws.
When Mama went into a full-blown hic-hic-hic fit, spitting and hicing all over the Perfects, I could see our neighbors move quickly toward the front door. In a few seconds, they would be gone, and we would all be safe. But they suddenly stopped.
“Hey, we’re stuck!” Penny Perfect cried.
We looked down and saw their shoes were stuck in some kind of thick yellow stuff clumped on the floor.
They struggled to free themselves. “My shoes are totally caught. What is this gunk?” Parker Perfect cried.
Mama shrugged. “Hic, hic. It wasn’t there yesterday. It must have grown overnight.”
Penny Perfect gasped. “You mean it’s alive?”
Mama nodded. “Pardon? Hic, hic.”
“You have got to clean this house,” Penny Perfect said. “It’s dangerous. And it’s a health hazard.”
“Pardon? Hic, hic.”
“I SAID, IT’S A HEALTH HAZARD!” Penny Perfect shrieked. She tugged one foot out of its shoe, which stayed stuck in the yellow goo.
“Ptooey! Welcome to Smellville!” the parrot squawked.
“Hic, hic. I know, I should do some light dusting.”
“Light dusting?” Parker Perfect cried. “You need to burn the house down and start over.”
Mama nodded. “Yes. Hic, hic. Maybe a good cleaning. And a little bug spray.”
The Perfects nodded.
“That’s why I have the kids all packed up,” Mama said.
Mrs. Perfect scrunched up her face. “Packed up?”
Mama nodded. “Yes, their bags are all packed. Don’t you worry. Hic, hic.”
“Why are they packed up?” both Perfects said at once.
“Why? To move into your house, of course,” Mama said.
“Hic, hic!” Now even the Perfects started to hic.
“Isn’t that why you came by? To let me know they can move in with you while I clean up?” Mama asked.
“NO! NO WAY!” Parker Perfect cried. “HIC, HIC.”
“HIC, HIC! NO WAY! NO WAY!” Penny screamed.
Mama turned to us kids. “The Perfects are such good neighbors. You kiddos will be on your best behavior, right?”
We all cupped our hands behind our ears and yelled, “Pardon? Hic, hic.”
“NO WAY! NOT HAPPENING!”
“NO! FORGET IT! NO!”
The Perfects’ bare feet slapped the floor as they ran to the front door.
“You’re all just a bunch of . . . Garbage Pail Kids!” Mrs. Perfect screamed.
A few seconds later, the door slammed behind them.
And like that, they were gone.
We all sat there staring at their two pairs of shoes still stuck in the gooey floor.
There was silence for a few seconds—we were all in shock.
Then everyone leaped to their feet, cheering and shouting and laughing and hugging and slapping high fives and doing fist bumps and victory dances.
Babbling Brooke broke into a cheer:
“THEY’RE GONE! THEY’RE GONE!
“YAAAY . . .
“What rhymes with gone?”
Then everyone huddled around Mama, who took a deep bow. “Don’t thank me. Just throw money,” she said. She said that more than a few times.
I patted her on the back. “You were awesome! The Perfects won’t bother us again for a long time.”
“Great job!” Handy Sandy cried and gave Mama a hug. “You’re the best!”
Everyone cheered again.
“We can’t thank you enough,” I said. “I’ll pay you the rest of what we owe you, and then you can go home.”
Mama grabbed my arm. “Huh? Go home?”
I nodded. “Yes, your job is over. You were terrific. Now you can go home.”
A thin smile spread across her face. “Good news, dum-dums. I’ve decided to stay.”
We all gasped in surprise.
“I like it here,” Mama said. “I’m going to stay for a long time. Maybe I can get you boneheaded baloney-faces to shape up.”
“But—but—but—” I sputtered.
She slapped me on the back with her cane. “You’re not a motorboat. Stop the putt-putt-putt!”
Then she turned to Handy Sandy and Babbling Brooke. “Hey, cluck-clucks—go get your things out of the bedroom. That’s my room now.”
FORTY-ONE
Junkfood John here, continuing the story.
Luke Puke, Nervous Rex, Rob Slob, and I stayed up late to celebrate. The others were exhausted from all the tension and excitement and went to bed. Even Mama.
I ate two bags of tortilla chips and a couple frozen pizzas to tide me over till breakfast. Rob Slob pulled some crumbs from his hair and ate them. I have no idea what they were.
Nervous Rex paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Rex, what’s your problem?” Luke Puke asked.
Rex shook his head. “I’m w-worried. I think Mama is going to be trouble. We’ve always done fine without any parents. I just know we’re going to be s-sorry.”
Rob Slob burped four or five times. Then he said, “Sorry? Why will we be sorry?”
And then we heard a deep rumble of thunder.
No, not thunder.
Rex stopped walking back and forth. Luke jumped to his feet. Rob stopped burping.
Another deep rumble shook the walls.
“What is that noise?” Luke asked.
The four of us tiptoed to the back hall. The lights were out, but we could see that Mama’s bedroom door was open. Another roar made the floor tremble beneath us. And I thought I heard the ceiling crack.
“She—she’s snoring!” Rex exclaimed.
I dropped the bag of chocolate-covered cotton-candy chips I had in my hand. “Yeah, she’s snoring, all right.”
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!”
Behind us in the living room, Pooper started to howl. Dogs have sensitive hearing, and it was more than he could take.
I covered both of Pooper’s ears. But I couldn’t shut out the deafening snores.
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!”
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!”
The ceiling cracked some more.
“The noise—it’s vibrating in my head! I . . . I feel sick!” Luke Puke cried. He covered his mouth and went running to the bathroom.
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!”
Everyone came running out of their rooms.
“Earthquake!” Wacky Jackie yelled. “Everyone duck under a table!”
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!”
“There’s a bear in the house!” Babbling Brooke screamed. “Run for your lives!”
They couldn’t escape from the hall—my stomach blocked their way. “Th
ere’s no bear,” I said. “It’s Mama. She snores kind of loud.”
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!”
The snores were so loud they even woke up Adam Bomb, who came staggering into the hall rubbing his head. “What’s up? What’s happening?” he asked.
It usually takes Adam a couple of days to recover after his head blows up. But even a headless kid couldn’t stay asleep with those roaring snores shaking the house apart.
“Adam—it’s Mama,” I said. “She—”
CRRASSH!
We all jumped. Paintings were coming off the walls. I ducked as plaster fell from the ceiling and landed all around me.
“We’ve got to do something!” Nervous Rex cried, holding his ears.
“I have an idea,” Handy Sandy said. “And I think it will work.”
“What’s your idea?” Brainy Janey asked.
“Close her door,” Sandy said.
She and Janey crept up to Mama’s bedroom. Silently and slowly, they pulled the door shut.
Would that make it quieter?
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!”
No—Mama’s bedroom door cracked off its hinges and fell to the floor.
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!”
“My ears are bleeding!” Nervous Rex cried.
“What are we going to do?” Sandy asked.
Brainy Janey stepped up to the fallen bedroom door. “I have another idea,” she said.
FORTY-TWO
Brainy Janey here, continuing the story . . .
We were all gathered in the dark hallway near Mama’s bedroom. Each snore coming from her open mouth caused pain and destruction. We had to act fast.
“We have to let her know that she isn’t wanted,” I said. “Let’s carry her bed out to the backyard as she sleeps. When she wakes up in the morning and sees she’s outside, maybe she’ll take the hint.”
“Brilliant!” Brooke exclaimed. “Janey has done it again. Go, Janey! Go, Janey!”
Nervous Rex shook his head. “But if we take her outside, her snores will chase away all the birds and bunnies and squirrels. Besides, she’ll wake up all the neighbors!”
“Worth it,” I said. “She’ll get the hint and realize she isn’t wanted. And then she’ll pack up and leave.”
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!”
That blast from Mama sent Rex crashing into the wall. “Okay . . . let’s try it,” he said. So that’s what we did.
First, we found earplugs in the bathroom. Then we crept into her room and surrounded her bed.
We were all working together. “Let’s lift it now,” I said. “Come on. On the count of three. One . . . two . . . three.”
“Too heavy!” Cranky Frankie groaned.
“Too heavy. We can’t lift it!” Adam Bomb cried.
“Way too heavy,” Rob Slob agreed.
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!”
Mama stirred. Was she about to wake?
“We can’t give up,” I whispered.
“I have a plan!” Handy Sandy cried. “I know how we can do it.” She disappeared. And a few seconds later she returned carrying four roller skates.
“Brilliant! We skate to the backyard!” Wacky Jackie declared.
Sandy frowned at her. “No. We don’t wear the skates. The bed wears the skates. We put these under the bed legs and roll it outside.”
“Brilliant!” Babbling Brooke cried. “Go, Sandy! Go, Sandy!”
It took a while to get the skates under the bed. Mama turned onto her side, but she didn’t wake up.
Finally, we rolled the bed out into the hall. We made a sharp left turn and headed to the back.
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!”
Snore after snore battered us. It was like we were being hit by ocean waves in a strong current.
“RRRRRHONNNNNK RRRRRRHHHHHHNNNNNNK!”
The sound made us weak. My head was ringing. Several times we almost slid the bed into the wall. But we made it outside and pushed the bed into the yard as Mama snored away.
“Okay, we’re here!” I whispered. “We did it!”
We were so happy we made it outside without waking Mama up, we all wanted to celebrate. We cheered silently and pumped silent fists and did some crazy silent dancing. It was a great moment.
I turned and started to walk back to the house. But a shout made me stop and spin around.
“THE BED!” Adam Bomb cried. “IT’S ROLLING AWAY!”
I gasped as I saw the bed moving . . . and picking up speed as it bumped down our sloping yard.
“STOP IT!” Nervous Rex yelled. “SOMEBODY S-STOP IT!”
I clapped my hands over my cheeks. “Oh no!” I cried. “It’s rolling into the STREET!”
FORTY-THREE
We all went chasing after the bed. But it didn’t go very far—it crashed into a line of metal garbage cans at the curb.
The bed stopped.
We stopped.
“BRRRRRHHHHHHK.”
And with a final snort, Mama sat up.
She blinked her eyes a few times, then stretched her arms above her head. Her face filled with surprise as she gazed around at the night sky, the streetlights, and the dark houses across the way.
We’re in major trouble, I thought. She’s going to go berserk now. This isn’t going to be pretty.
We all gasped in surprise as a smile crossed her face. Then she turned and saw us for the first time.
“Fresh air!” she exclaimed. “I love fresh air.”
None of us said a word. We didn’t know what to say.
“Fresh air and peace and quiet,” Mama said, still smiling. “My favorite things in the world.”
Her smile grew even wider. “I love peace and quiet,” she said. “You know, I once had a roommate who snored. Can you believe that? I had to kick her out of the house!”
I needed to think fast. “Yes, we thought you’d like it out here,” I said.
Mama nodded. “Like it? I love it. And you dum-dum cluck-clucks will, too. Tomorrow, we’re bringing all our beds outside. We’re all going to sleep in the fresh air from now on!”
FORTY-FOUR
The next morning at breakfast, Mama kept talking about fresh air and peace and quiet and how much she loved it. “Peace and quiet,” she said. “You can’t have one without the other. Do you dum-dum drool-faces know what I mean?”
No one answered. We didn’t know what she meant.
“Peace and quiet,” Mama repeated. “That’s the rule around here from now on.”
Rob Slob said, “Please pass the salt.” And she slapped him with her cane for making a racket.
Then Mama gobbled down all the pancakes. She ate with both hands, syrup dripping down her chin. And she didn’t save any for us, either.
After breakfast, Handy Sandy pulled me aside. “I’ve invented the perfect thing to get rid of Mama,” she said.
“You’re the best inventor in the house,” I said. “It’s a shame your inventions never work.”
“This one will work,” Sandy said, and held up a towel.
“That’s a bath towel,” I said. “I know you didn’t invent the bath towel, Sandy.”
“Give me a chance to explain,” Sandy said. “Yes, it’s a bath towel. But I sewed a bear trap inside it.”
“A bear trap? Like the one in the welcome mat?”
Sandy grinned. “Just like it. Only this time it will work. When Mama takes her shower, she’ll grab the bath towel. And the trap will snap tight around her.”
“Then what?” I said.
“Then she’ll beg for help. And we say we’ll only get her out of the trap if she agrees to leave.”
I stared at the towel. “Hmmmm. Okay . . . I guess it’s worth a try. I don’t have any better ideas.”
Sandy raised the towel. “I’ll put it in Mama’s shower. You’ll see, Janey. This time I know it will—”
SSSNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAP!
Sandy’s eyes bulged, and her mou
th flew open in a howl of pain. The towel clamped tightly around her body and she fell to the floor, kicking and screaming and gasping for breath.
“We need a new plan,” I said. Later that day, I had a good one.
FORTY-FIVE
Welcome to our big Blast-Off Party.
We’re going to send Mama off with a blast!
I invited everyone we know from Smellville Middle School. The idea is to come break the sound barrier with the loudest party in history. I’m hoping it will be so loud that moonlings can hear it on the moon!
I’m brainy, so I’ve done a lot of research on sound and sound waves.
I read that the human ear can only take about 220 decibobbles of sound before it explodes. I’m hoping that 500 decibobbles will be enough to make everyone’s ears explode—and to chase Mama away from here forever!
Peace and quiet. That’s all she talks about. She likes total silence, except when she’s talking. She even tells us we breathe too loud.
So I got all our guests together and said, “It’s party time. If we throw the loudest, rowdiest, most deafening, most ear-shattering party in history, Mama will go running.”
Of course, everyone congratulated me on my brilliant plan.
And now here we were. Everyone came—and it was starting to get N-O-I-S-Y!
Some of the kids from school were doing their best Tarzan yells. And they got Pooper howling at the top of his lungs.
Another kid brought an old boom box—this gigantic music player. And he had it turned up to infinity. The music was making my heart leap into my mouth with each beat. It was so loud, we couldn’t tell what kind of music was playing!
Babbling Brooke was leaping up and down shouting her cheers. Wacky Jackie was playing the bagpipes at full blast—they sounded like sour dog howls.
Luke Puke was off vomiting loudly in a corner. Nervous Rex’s ears were bleeding!
Two kids I never saw before were playing tubas! They were so loud, I couldn’t even hear Rob Slob and Junkfood John pounding their brains out on their drum sets!
BLAMAMABLAMMABLAMMMABLAMMMA!
Holding her ears, Handy Sandy came up to me and said something. Of course, I couldn’t hear her.
She repeated herself, but I still couldn’t hear. I took my earmuffs off. “WHAT IS IT?” I shouted.
