Hamstersaurus Rex vs. Squirrel Kong

by Tom O'Donnell

  Mr. Duderotti dove for Squirrel Kong. But the animal leaped out of the way. The panicked squirrel wove left, then right, then it squeezed into an air vent that had been knocked loose in all the commotion. I heard its little claws clattering against the metal of the duct as it disappeared into the bowels of the school.

  “Whoa,” I said.

  Mr. Duderotti sat up. I ducked back behind the corner.

  “Hello?” he cried from down the hall. “Is somebody else here? You should come out now! Trespassing on school property after hours is very . . . un-dope.”

  I realized that Mr. Duderotti hadn’t seen me. But he definitely saw (and defeated!) Squirrel Kong. A teacher as an eyewitness ought to be good enough to prove that the giant squirrel was real.

  I took a deep breath and made a split-second decision. Before anybody got the wrong idea about why I was here—during a Squirrel Kong attack that had demolished half of Horace Hotwater Middle School—I made a run for it.

  CHAPTER 10

  “LOOK, MY MOM says you shouldn’t be bothering us this late,” said Dylan, already talking before she opened the door. “We’re not going to sign whatever it is you want us to sign or donate to whatever it is that you want us to donate to because it’s dinnertime . . .”

  Dylan trailed off and her jaw dropped open as she realized it was no random solicitor but instead her best friend since preschool. I stood on the D’Amatos’ front porch, filthy and bright orange from my head down to my waist, carrying a partially squashed PETCATRAZ Pro™, inside of which was a hyperactive Hamstersaurus Rex.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Oh boy,” said Dylan, shaking her head. “You should come inside.”

  I did.

  “Mom! Dad! Sam’s here!” bellowed Dylan as she hurried me upstairs to her room.

  “Hiya, Sam,” called Mrs. D’Amato from the kitchen.

  “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. D!” I yelled back from the staircase.

  “Want some dinner?” called Mr. D’Amato. “We’re making soup!”

  “Nah, I’m not hungry!” I called back. “Thanks, though!”

  Hamstersuarus Rex roared.

  There was a long pause from the kitchen. “You sound hungry,” called Mrs. D’Amato.

  “Okay, I guess I’ll have a little soup,” I answered.

  Once we were inside Dylan’s room, she slid a heavy wooden toy chest in front of the door.

  “Got to make sure the room is little-brother proof,” she said. She had three of them—Anthony, Pete, and Joey—so she always had to be on guard for whatever they had in store.

  “Still, sometimes it must be kind of cool to have siblings,” I said, sitting down on her bed and then immediately jumping back up as I remembered my Funcho dust coating.

  “Does this look cool?” said Dylan. She held up her hairbrush. Its bristles were clogged with spaghetti. “But enough about the D’Amato family. Why are you orange?”

  I told her everything that had happened since we parted ways at the end of school. She had trouble wrapping her brain around the idea of a remote-controlled quadcopter spraying Funchos dust in order to target a Squirrel Kong attack. She perked up at the Mr. Duderotti parts, though.

  “Todd does seem like a pretty awesome guy,” said Dylan after I’d described his heroic Squirrel Kong showdown.

  “I guess,” I said. “I mean, he really stood his ground against a giant squirrel. Like, he had no fear. Didn’t even flinch.”

  “To go bungee jumping, like Todd said he does, you pretty much have to be fearless,” said Dylan.

  I was detecting a certain awestruck quality in Dylan’s attitude toward Mr. Duderotti—or “Todd,” as she kept insisting on calling him.

  “I wonder what was in that aerosol bottle,” I said.

  “Well, he’s the science teacher, so maybe it was something he made with . . . science?”

  “Really? He always keeps squirrel shrinking spray in his pocket?” I said. “Just in case?”

  Dylan shrugged. “Sounds like it came in pretty handy,” she said. “Anyway, what’s with him?” She pointed to Hamstersaurus Rex. He was still frothing at the mouth, pupils dilated, growling and flinging himself around inside his cage. In short: rampaging.

  “I honestly have no idea,” I said. “He’s been like this since I got sprayed by Beefer’s stupid quadcopter.”

  “Is there anything we can do to calm Hammie Rex down?” said Dylan. “Hot towel? Herbal tea? World music?”

  “Got any Mint-Caramel Choconobs?” I asked. “Maybe some Spicy Cheez Wallets?”

  “No way,” said Dylan. “My mom doesn’t let that stuff within three hundred yards of this house.”

  “Come on, little guy,” I said as I moved to unlock the cage. “Just chill out.” Hammie Rex snarled and went for my finger. I yanked my hand back and heard his jaws snap.

  “It’s your dust coating,” said Dylan. “Hammie loves the taste of Funchos Flavor-Wedges the most, right? Forget Cheez Wallets, he probably wants to eat you.”

  “Just like Squirrel Kong,” I said. “Can I go rinse off?”

  On my way to the bathroom I found Joey D’Amato (age eight) sitting in the hallway filling a balloon with peanut butter and nickels.

  “Why are you orange?” he asked.

  “Why are you filling a balloon with peanut butter and nickels?” I asked.

  He answered by lobbing the peanut-butter-and-nickels balloon at my head. I ducked and it hit Anthony D’Amato (age six) right in the face, exploding everywhere. Anthony charged and tackled Joey. A second later, Pete D’Amato (age three and a half) came running and piled onto the brawl. Once again, I instantly appreciated being an only child.

  In the bathroom, I washed the sticky Flavor-Wedge dust off in the sink, leaving orange trails all down the sides. Once I was clean, Dylan lent me a spare disc golf jersey to wear.

  “Okay, let’s try this again,” I said as I cautiously unlocked Hammie Rex’s cage. The little guy stomped forward and nuzzled my hand and then chomped my finger, but not as hard as he had tried to before. Hammie Rex was back to his usual not-insane self. Well, not very insane.

  “That’s better,” I said as I took him out and scratched his scaly little back.

  “Well, isn’t that a happy ending to this whole thing,” said Dylan.

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “Squirrel Kong’s done. And obviously Todd can confirm that a giant monster squirrel really was attacking our school like you said. So Hammie Rex’s good name has been cleared and he won’t get sent to that Indiana hamster home after all.”

  “I hope you’re right,” I said. “But somehow I don’t think it’s over.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” I said, “Beefer Vanderkoff is still out there.”

  CHAPTER 11

  I ARRIVED AT SCHOOL the next morning with Hamstersaurus Rex hidden in my pocket. I immediately saw that Horace Hotwater had been even more badly damaged than I’d realized. Aside from the gaping hole in the wall and the busted water fountain, the school office had been completely trashed. Whole sections of the building were now blocked off with yellow caution tape that had the words “ANIMAL CONTROL—DO NOT CROSS” printed on it.

  As I walked to my locker, I saw Martha headed in the opposite direction. She was reading what looked like a competitive origami manual.

  “Martha, you’ll never believe what happened after I left the doll museum!” I said. “Squirrel Kong got all shrunk down but I still have to stop Beefer because—”

  “Honestly, I think you’ve done enough,” said Martha, and she kept on walking. “Anyway, I’m pretty busy right now.”

  I sighed. She was still angry.

  At the sixth-grade lockers, all the other kids were talking about the destruction.

  “I can’t believe Hamstersaurus Rex struck again,” said Caroline Moody, shaking her head. “When will our long, school-wide nightmare ever be over?”

  “Somebody’s got to take that psycho hamster down,
” said Jimmy Choi, crossing his arms.

  “It wasn’t Hamstersaurus Rex,” I said, tossing my bag into my locker.

  “Yeah, sure. Of course you’d say that, Sam,” said Jimmy Choi. “It’s almost like you want your best buddy to destroy the school.”

  “Honestly, you guys have no idea what happened,” I said. “This was another attack by—” I caught myself before I mentioned Squirrel Kong. I was tired of being laughed at. “Whatever. Everyone will learn soon enough.”

  “Well, I heard Principal Truitt is calling an assembly first thing today,” said Tina Gomez, “to talk about the incident.”

  “Great,” I said. “Finally the truth will come out.”

  “I still think it was ghosts,” said Jared Kopernik.

  We all turned to stare at him.

  “I heard this place was built on an ancient ghost burial ground,” he said ominously.

  The first bell rang, and just as Tina predicted, the entire school filed into the auditorium for the assembly. Dylan took a seat beside me.

  On the stage, Principal Truitt looked both more frazzled and angrier than ever. Mr. Duderotti stood behind her looking cool with his arms folded behind his back. As always, he was wearing his indoor shades. Beside him stood a tall thin woman and a short fat man, both in identical khaki shirts.

  “All right, settle down, everyone,” said Principal Truitt, waiting for the buzz of conversation to die. “First off, we’ve had enough bad news recently, so I am determined to start this assembly off with something positive. In that spirit, I’d like to introduce all of you to Ms. Becker’s replacement. Please give a warm Horace Hotwater Horace Hot-welcome to your new sixth-grade science teacher, Mr. Todd Duderotti.”

  The audience gave lukewarm applause as Mr. Duderotti stepped forward.

  “Thanks, Elaine,” he said. Principal Truitt winced. Her first name had never been revealed to us.

  “I’d just like to say how stoked I am to be a part of this rad school,” said Mr. Duderotti, giving a quick air-guitar riff. “Very excited to jam with all you little dudes: education style!”

  Dylan grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. He returned a little nod and stepped back as Principal Truitt retook the podium.

  “Now, on to less cheerful matters,” she said. “Last night, Horace Hotwater Middle School was attacked by a destructive, possibly criminally insane rodent . . .”

  I glanced around at the faces of my classmates. At last, Principal Truitt would confirm the existence of Squirrel Kong. I would no longer be a laughingstock. Maybe this was a happy ending after all.

  “That rodent’s name,” said Principal Truitt, “is Hamstersaurus Rex.”

  I sat bolt upright in my seat. I looked at Dylan. She stared back at me, wide-eyed, and shrugged. I tried to catch Martha’s attention but she ignored me. Farther down the row, Caroline and Jimmy were looking at me with smug I-told-you-so faces.

  Principal Truitt continued. “At around six p.m. yesterday evening, Hamstersaurus Rex apparently used his immense strength to burst out of the cage in my office. He proceeded to devour six pounds of Funchos Spicy Wasabi and French Onion Flavor-Wedges before cutting a swathe of destruction through the school and ultimately escaping by smashing through the outer wall.”

  What? That wasn’t how it happened at all! I shifted in my seat and waited for Mr. Duderotti to speak up. He didn’t. Instead he checked his cuticles.

  “This aggression will not stand,” said Principal Truitt. “I will not tolerate a climate of fear. I will not compromise the safety of my students. From here on out I am considering this dangerous, rogue hamster to be our school’s public enemy number one!”

  This couldn’t be happening! Why wasn’t Duderotti saying anything? Squirrel Kong had almost crushed him. Without his word, I had no way to prove that Hammie Rex wasn’t guilty.

  “This morning I notified the Maple Bluffs Department of Animal Control,” said Principal Truitt. She beckoned and the khaki-shirted pair stepped forward.

  “Hello, kids, I’m Special Agent Anne Gould,” said the thin woman.

  “And I’m Special Agent Ralph McKay,” said the fat man.

  “Rest assured we are trained professionals,” said Gould, “with the expertise to deal with a situation like this.”

  “We’re the agents who dealt with the escaped pig that was knocking over all the mailboxes last year,” said McKay. “Cover story of last June’s Animal Control Monthly. We have copies if anybody’s interested.”

  The crowd was quiet.

  “More to the point,” said Gould, “if any of you see Hamstersaurus Rex, you should consider him extremely dangerous. Do not approach him. Do not catch his attention. Call us or find a teacher or a staff member and notify them immediately.”

  “We’ve found that rewards work incredibly well to help citizens come forward in animal fugitive situations like these,” said McKay. “Therefore, anyone who provides information that leads to the capture of Hamstersaurus Rex will receive this.” He held up a check. “Three hundred dollars, courtesy of the Maple Bluffs Department of Animal Control.”

  Both agents nodded in unison and stepped toward the back of the stage. An excited murmur ran through the collected student body. Not only was the law on Hammie’s trail; now, the prospect of a reward had turned every kid in school into a hamster bounty hunter. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Not at all.

  Principal Truitt addressed the crowd once again. “Personally I find the timing of Hamstersaurus Rex’s escape—the very night before he was to be sent away for good—to be highly suspicious. Know that anyone who is found to be aiding or abetting Hamstersaurus Rex in any way will face extremely serious consequences.”

  Her eyes scanned the crowd until she found me. I sank lower in my seat.

  “Extremely. Serious. Consequences,” repeated Principal Truitt, glaring at me. “Now, as I began this assembly on a positive note, I would like to conclude it on one. A SmilesCorp representative contacted me, and the company has generously agreed to donate the money needed to repair our school from this latest devastating attack. We’re so lucky to have them as a force for good in our community. Everyone, let’s give a round of applause for SmilesCorp.”

  The crowd clapped wildly. I could tell that it wasn’t some corporation’s philanthropic efforts they cared about. The kids were amped up to get their hands on that sweet hamster reward money.

  “Do you know how many snails you could buy with three hundred dollars?” I heard Wilbur Weber whisper to the person beside him.

  My heart raced. At that very moment, Hammie Rex was hidden in my pocket, fast asleep.

  “Now,” said Principal Truitt, “that concludes our assembly. Please don’t hesitate to—”

  A deafening crash from outside cut her off. There was general confusion in the auditorium. The crowd began to murmur. Principal Truitt hurried off in the direction of the noise, quickly followed by Agents Gould and McKay. The teachers whispered among themselves. Gradually they began to take their classes back to their rooms.

  As Mr. Copeland’s sixth graders filed out of the auditorium, I saw a crowd of kids with their noses pressed against the window of the school. They were staring out toward the parking lot. I stood on my tiptoes to get a better look.

  Out in the lot, Principal Truitt stood beside her car, an expensive black luxury sedan. Only it wasn’t an expensive black luxury sedan anymore. It had been crushed flat. Its tires were folded out to the side like the legs of an old dog. Principal Truitt shook her fists with rage as Gould talked on her phone and McKay began to cordon off the area with more yellow tape. Even from far away, I could see that the vehicle was covered in telltale orange splotches.

  Squirrel Kong was back.

  CHAPTER 12

  AFTER THE ASSEMBLY, the hallway was crowded with middle schoolers slowly making their way back toward their classrooms. I was terrified that someone would figure out that Hammie, now worth a cool three hundred bucks, was dozing in my shirt pocket.


  I overheard Caroline Moody talking to Jimmy Choi. “I can’t believe Hamstersaurus Rex smashed the principal’s car while she was literally warning us about Hamstersaurus Rex,” said Caroline. “He’s got to be the most vengeful hamster who ever lived!”

  “Maybe the only vengeful hamster that ever lived?” said Jimmy. “I mean, can you think of any other hamsters that have ever sought revenge? I can’t name a single one.”

  “Guys, that’s not what happened,” I muttered, despite myself.

  Jimmy and Caroline scowled at me.

  “Oh, it isn’t?” said Omar Powell, sidling up to me as we walked. “Are you saying that because maybe you know something we don’t, Sam?”

  I froze. Had Omar somehow figured out that the little guy was approximately two feet away from him, concealed behind the thinnest layer of plaid flannel? My hand reflexively crept up to my pocket. Luckily Hammie was still sleeping.

  “Look, you know the most about Hamstersaurus Rex,” said Omar. “Just tell me where he is and I’ll give you two-fifteenths of the reward money. Minus my commission, of course. Eleven percent is standard.”

  “I honestly have no idea,” I said. “Come on, why would you think I have any special insight into where he’s hiding?” The pitch of my voice rose an octave as I finished the sentence.

  “So that’s how you want to play it, Sam?” said Omar, cocking his head. “Fine. I guess you don’t want your fifty-three dollars and forty cents.”

  “Play what?” I sputtered. “I’m not playing anything! I hate playing! I’m a very serious guy!”

  “Never mind him, Sam,” said Tina Gomez, edging Omar out, “I’m not going to ask you where Hamstersaurus Rex is hiding. I respect you way too much for that.”