Hamstersaurus Rex vs. Squirrel Kong

by Tom O'Donnell

  I felt awful. I’d managed to hurt Martha’s feelings and failed to save Hamstersaurus Rex. Lost in thought, I walked out of the museum and crossed the parking lot toward the bus stop. The dark clouds overhead still threatened rain. I walked past a compact SUV and—

  THUD! For the second time that day, I physically bumped into someone. To be fair, this time it wasn’t really my fault. The person I’d collided with was crouched behind the back bumper of the vehicle, clutching a pair of binoculars and a strange handheld technological device with a long wobbly antenna.

  “Sorry!” I said, before I realized who it was—indeed, quite possibly the last person I’d ever want to see.

  I’d walked right into Kiefer “Beefer” Vanderkoff.

  CHAPTER 8

  “YOU’VE BEEN FOLLOWING me?!” I cried, leaping back in surprise.

  “What? No way!” sputtered Beefer, hiding the binoculars and antennaed device behind his back. “I mean, maybe you’ve been, uh, following me!”

  “Beefer, you’re the bully who made my existence miserable for six long years,” I said. “Why would I be following you?”

  “Well, you and your psychotic attack gerbil completely ruined my life!” said Beefer. “So why would I be following you?”

  “Huh? How’s that?” I said. “I ruined your life?”

  “You stole my girlfriend and got me kicked out of school and forced me to smash my head against a trophy that was made of rocks!”

  “I—what?” I said, dumbfounded.

  “You think I’ve forgotten about what happened on Science Night?” said Beefer. “I haven’t!”

  “Why do you have those binoculars?” I cried. “What are you doing creeping around in the Antique Doll Museum parking lot spying on me? What’s that weird antenna thingie you’ve got?”

  “I don’t owe you any answers,” said Beefer, his expression hardening. “Just tell me where he is or I’ll pummel your dumb nerd face.”

  “Over my dead body!” I said. I wasn’t about to give up Hamstersaurus Rex’s location to the likes of Beefer Vanderkoff.

  “Works for me!” cried Beefer. “Anteater style!”

  Beefer shifted into a strange martial arts fighting stance that, I grudgingly had to admit, did sort of look a little bit like an anteater. I tried my best to put up my own dukes while at the same time protecting my “nerd face.” I wasn’t really afraid of Beefer anymore, but he had a point: he definitely could pummel me. We circled each other warily.

  “Before we fight, is there any chance you still believe I’m a werewolf?” I asked.

  “Ha! I’m not that dumb,” said Beefer. “I know you cured the curse by waiting till it was a full moon and fully submerging yourself in pure Dijon mustard.”

  “Seriously, man. What?”

  “Anteater Takes the Ant!” cried Beefer as he lunged at me. I just managed to scramble backward out of his grasp.

  Beefer resumed his fighting stance. “You know what I call you, man?” he said with an evil grin.

  “What?”

  “Sam Dweebs! Which is a clever play on your stupid last name!”

  “Those two words don’t even sound similar!” I cried in disbelief. “Oh, and Gibbs is a stupid last name but Vanderkoff isn’t?”

  “It’s Duuuuuutch!” howled Beefer as he flew at me again, twirling both fists like some sort of double-anteater windmill.

  A beefy arm caught him around the midriff and yanked him backward off his feet.

  “All right, break it up!” It was Norton, the Antique Doll Museum security guard. “Break it up! No fighting in the parking lot!”

  “Lemme go!” screamed Beefer, squirming in Norton’s grip.

  “You!” said Norton, recognizing Beefer now. “You fell on Ginny Gossamer, destroying history’s most fragile doll! You have a lifetime ban from Antique Doll Museum property! You’re not going anywhere until I call the police!”

  With a powerful lurch, Beefer managed to wriggle out of Norton’s grasp. He took off across the parking lot at top speed.

  “None of you can stop me!” cried Beefer. “I have a master plan! And I swear I’ll get him back if it’s the last thing I do!” He took a running dive into the bushes.

  By the time I made it to the edge of the lot, Beefer was long gone. I heard his tromping footsteps fading in the underbrush. There was no way I could possibly catch up to him. Norton arrived a moment later, completely winded.

  “I will avenge you, Ginny Gossamer,” said Norton, waving his fist.

  I caught the crosstown bus heading in the opposite direction. The route would take me back past the school to the stop near my house. My encounter with Beefer had me thoroughly rattled. As I rode, I watched the storm clouds churn and wondered what he had to do with all of this. What was Beefer’s master plan? His ominous parting words echoed in my mind: I swear I’ll get him back if it’s the last thing I do.

  I cursed myself for not chasing him down. Beefer was obviously still obsessed with getting revenge on Hamstersaurus Rex. Not only did I have to stop a twelve-foot-tall squirrel and clear Hammie’s name in the next fourteen hours—now I had to worry about Beefer, too.

  Suddenly it dawned on me: this was Beefer’s master plan. The giant squirrel attacks weren’t random at all. Beefer was somehow controlling Squirrel Kong—making the beast attack Horace Hotwater Middle School so Hammie would take the blame!

  But how? How could he possibly command a monster like that?

  Just then, something outside the window of the bus caught my eye. As we sped past Horace Hotwater Middle School, I saw a speck in the sky overhead. It was the quadcopter that Dylan and I had seen before. I pressed my face against the window, but it had disappeared behind the trees.

  “Stop!” I cried to the bus driver. “Stop the bus! Let me off right here!”

  I got out and raced toward the school. As I ran, fat raindrops began to splatter on the pavement around me. The storm had finally come.

  I found the quadcopter at the edge of the woods, hovering five feet off the ground beside the school. As I got closer, I could see the little vehicle was much more advanced than the cheap models you can purchase online. It had a camera on the front and a small mechanical grasping claw mounted to its undercarriage. Beside the grabby claw thingie, it also had a strange metal canister with a pointed nozzle.

  I approached the quadcopter slowly now. As quietly as I could, I picked up a heavy stick off the ground.

  Hissssssss . . .

  I froze. Now the purpose of the metal canister was clear: the copter was spraying something onto the outside wall of the school. It was more of the weird orange dust I’d seen in the science lab. Huh?

  Back and forth the copter wove, methodically coating a large section of the wall with the dust. At last, the spraying stopped. The orange splotch it had created was the approximate size and shape of a large door. The quadcopter paused. I had one chance.

  I lunged, swinging my stick overhand. At that moment the quadcopter randomly darted to the side, so my blow missed. My stick thudded into the dirt. The copter spun, and for a split second I looked right into the glass eye of the camera. Then the quadcopter zipped straight up into the sky and out of sight.

  Lightning flashed. It was so bright and so close that I reflexively covered my eyes. An instant later thunder crashed, a deafening boom right overhead. I could practically feel my teeth rattle.

  Rain was falling in sheets now, but the rolling rumble didn’t stop. At first I thought my ears were still ringing. But then I realized it wasn’t thunder. It was the sound of feet.

  Lighting flashed again. In the darkness of the woods I saw a huge, shaggy beast barreling toward me. It was Squirrel Kong.

  CHAPTER 9

  KABLAM!

  Like a fuzzy semitruck, Squirrel Kong smashed right through the wall of the school as easily as if it were made of papier-mâché. The beast burst through the exact spot where I’d been standing approximately fourteen milliseconds earlier. Somehow, I managed to fling
myself out of the way before being pulverized.

  Thunder crashed again. I landed on my stomach in the mud and lay motionless, too terrified to move. Nearby, Squirrel Kong hunched over the pile of loose bricks from the wall and made sickening slurping noises as it greedily licked the orange dust off the rubble.

  The copter had sprayed the wall exactly where it wanted Squirrel Kong to attack! That’s how Beefer was commanding the monster. The antennaed device I’d seen him holding must have been quadcopter’s remote control.

  Above me I heard a buzzing sound as the quadcopter made a rapid descent. It dropped to a few feet off the ground and then zipped through the hole that Squirrel Kong made, disappearing inside Horace Hotwater. Scared as I was, I felt a new surge of panic rising in my chest. The quadcopter was flying toward Principal Truitt’s office. Beefer was going after Hamstersaurus Rex!

  Overcoming my fear, I pushed myself up onto all fours and slowly started to crawl through the mud. Inch by inch, I made my way past Squirrel Kong—who ignored me as it continued to lick up the orange dust—and into the school. Once I’d put a few feet of distance between myself and the beast, I leaped to my feet and started to run. I had no idea what other unpleasant surprises Beefer’s quadcopter had in store—buzz saw? Flamethrower? Quad-laser?—but I knew I had to get to Hammie before it did. If I took a shortcut, I might just be able to beat it there.

  I ran as fast as I could, ducked in one side of the auditorium, dashed down the aisle between the folding seats and out the other. I rounded the corner of the hallway to see the school office. But I was too late. The glass window of the reception area was smashed in. The whole area was eerily quiet.

  “Hammie?” I called out. “Are you okay? I’m here to—”

  The quadcopter zipped out of a window right at me. I stumbled backward, surprised, as it buzzed past my face. In its grasping claw it carried the PETCATRAZ Pro™ that held Hamstersaurus Rex!

  “Hammie!” I cried.

  I somehow managed to spin and hook my fingers through the bars of the cage. With all my strength I yanked the copter back and grabbed it with my other hand.

  “Ha! Gotcha!” I cried. I held the quadcopter firmly.

  Hammie Rex snarled from inside his cage, eager to smash, stomp, or chomp something.

  The quadcopter twisted and turned in my grasp—surprisingly strong for its size—rotating its propellers this way and that. The grasping arm released its claw grip on the cage and flailed wildly. It seemed like the copter was only trying to escape now. But I had no intention of letting that happen. I spun it around so that I was facing the camera.

  “Nice try, Beefer,” I said right into the glassy camera. “But you messed with the wrong—”

  PSSSSSSSHT! In a powerful burst, the quadcopter unloaded its remaining payload of pressurized orange dust right into my face. I choked and sputtered as I inhaled the sticky, savory stuff. In a coughing fit, I lost my grip on the copter. The instant I let go, it was airborne again. It zipped off down the hallway and disappeared out of sight.

  As I wiped my eyes and spat out gooey gobs of the orange dust, I finally realized what it was. There was no mistaking that taste—savory, tangy, utterly unlike anything found in nature—it was concentrated Funchos Flavor-Wedge flavoring!

  I caught sight of my reflection in a window and blinked. From my head all the way down to my waist, I was completely orange, thoroughly coated in the stuff. I looked like a walking Flavor-Wedge! Inside his cage, Hammie Rex was even more agitated than ever, ricocheting around like a pinball.

  “It’s okay, little dude,” I said as I knelt. “You’re safe now. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  Just then, a bloodcurdling screech echoed through the school. I knew now that it was the war cry of Squirrel Kong. The following thoughts fired off in my brain in quick succession:

  A. Squirrel Kong attacked anything coated in the orange dust.

  B. Currently, I was coated in the orange dust.

  C. Therefore, run!

  I picked up the PETCATRAZ Pro™ and scrambled through the broken window into the school office reception area. Then I dropped to all fours and crawled toward the door marked “Principal Truitt,” dragging the cage along behind me.

  Once inside, I closed and locked Principal Truitt’s office door. Then I huddled behind her heavy desk. Hammie continued to rage and snarl and foam at the mouth.

  “Shhhh!” I pleaded, but he didn’t listen.

  Outside I heard a crash. Then another. Squirrel Kong was close. The door to Truitt’s office would slow it down about as much as a layer of tissue paper. Our only hope was remaining hidden. Hamstersaurus Rex’s noisy growling would make that impossible.

  “Please, Hammie! I’ve told you before, you’re no match for that thing!” I whispered. “We just have to hide! What do I have to do to keep you quiet?”

  As soon as I said it, I knew. I threw open the lower left drawer of Principal Truitt’s desk. Sure enough, it was still filled with bags of Spicy Wasabi and French Onion Flavor-Wedges. I tore open a bag and dumped it through the bars of Hammie’s cage. The little guy started to gobble.

  “That ought to hush you up for a few . . .”

  But my heart sank as I saw the carpet behind me. Even if Hammie didn’t make another peep, there would be no hiding. A series of orange dust splotches from where I had crawled across the floor led right under the door to the very spot where I was cowering. I’d stupidly left a Funcho flavoring Hansel and Gretel trail that Squirrel Kong could follow right to us!

  As if to confirm this, there was another crash. The monster was definitely inside the school office now and coming this way. I had to do something, fast. I looked around for anything that might help.

  CRASH! The door to the principal’s office blasted inward, practically disintegrating from a Squirrel Kong head-butt. With a crazed look in its eyes, the beast let out another terrifying squeak-howl.

  It was now or never. I leaped onto the top of the desk. Momentarily surprised, Squirrel Kong blinked. Then I dashed across the room, carrying Hammie’s cage and emptying the other nine bags of Flavor-Wedges onto the floor behind me as I went. I leaped over the Squirrel Kong’s whipping tail and ran out the door.

  For a moment, the giant squirrel was conflicted: Follow the human Flavor-Wedge or eat the ones on the floor? Behind me, I heard the beast noisily begin to feast. I’d bought myself a few seconds at least. Would it be enough?

  I flew out of the school office and skidded right. If I could make it to the other end of the hallway, maybe I could get out of the main entrance of the school.

  Another crash rang out behind me! Squirrel Kong was smashing its way through doors and furniture to get out of the school office. I turned to see the beast pause for a second in the hallway to sniff the air. Then it turned and started to gallop toward me, shaking the walls as it came.

  I had a horrible realization: as long I was covered in Funchos dust, Squirrel Kong would follow me anywhere. And Squirrel Kong was unbelievably fast. You know how fast a regular squirrel is? Well, it was like that but way bigger. The monster could easily outpace me, especially since I was lugging a heavy hamster cage with a very agitated Hammie Rex inside. I huffed and puffed and tried to speed up, but Squirrel Kong was gaining on me now. I wasn’t going to make it out the door. I wasn’t going to make it fifty more feet.

  I tripped and hit the floor with both elbows. The PETCATRAZ Pro™ clattered against the linoleum. I flipped onto my back to see Squirrel Kong skidding to a halt, its massive head less than two feet away. It sniffed me again.

  “Good Squirrel Kong,” I whispered. “Nice Squirrel Kong. You don’t want to eat me. I’m not a Flavor-Wedge, I promise.”

  Squirrel Kong wasn’t persuaded. It loomed over me now, licking its chops. Drool dripped from its glistening teeth in sticky ropes. Hamstersaurus Rex roared uselessly. Squirrel Kong spread its jaws wide to devour me and—

  KALANG!

  Just as Squirrel Kong bit down, I flung t
he entire PETCATRAZ Pro™—with Hammie still inside!—right into the monster’s gaping mouth. The whole cage compressed under the unbelievable force of the chomp. The bars bulged outward but . . . they didn’t break, just as I knew they wouldn’t. After all, the PETCATRAZ Pro™ is the strongest small rodent cage on the market. (Okay, I was only, like, 99 percent sure the bars wouldn’t break, but please don’t tell Hamstersaurus Rex that.)

  Squirrel Kong shrieked in pain—it can’t feel nice to bite down on a couple of pounds of high-grade titanium—and reeled backward. Its whipping tail took out a water fountain, sending it spiraling down the hallway and causing water to spray from the burst pipe. I snatched the cage and I was on my feet again, running. I had to keep going if I was going to save Hamstersaurus Rex.

  I rounded a corner and glanced back over my shoulder. A crazed Squirrel Kong charged after me again. Suddenly I saw a classroom door swing open behind me. A ponytailed figure stepped out into the hallway and directly into the beast’s path. It was Mr. Duderotti! The poor guy was going to get flattened by a monster squirrel before his first day of work. Ms. Becker was right: Our school wasn’t safe at all. I wanted to yell out to warn him.

  But before I could, Mr. Duderotti pulled something small out of his lab coat. It looked like an aerosol bottle.

  “Not so fast,” said Mr. Duderotti. He shook the bottle and then sprayed it right into the furry face of the oncoming giant squirrel.

  Squirrel Kong froze in its tracks. The beast snorted and then began to scrabble wildly at its nose with its front paws. Mr. Duderotti stood his ground as the beast finally let out a booming sneeze. His lab coat and ponytail blew straight back like he was in a hurricane.

  Then I saw the weirdest sight of my life. (The second weirdest was when Jared Kopernik tried to feed mashed potatoes to his own shadow.) Right before my eyes, Squirrel Kong started to shrink, smaller and smaller, until the once-fearsome monster was merely the size of a normal squirrel. Astonished, I realized that now Squirrel Kong was a normal squirrel. The horrible creature that had haunted my nightmares now looked tiny and pathetic on the ground before Mr. Duderotti’s shoes. It was now slightly smaller than an average-sized burrito.