by Bruce Hale
Drat! I knew our "Nature's Little Batteries" experiment was a dumb idea.
Natalie found me by the shark tank. "Listen," she said. "I've been reviewing our cases, and I think something big will happen tonight."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Haven't you ever watched monster movies?" she asked.
"Yeah..."
Natalie leaned forward. "So, what did Godzilla do to Tokyo?"
"He trashed it," I said.
"And what did King Kong do to New York?"
"He wrecked it."
"And what does every werewolf do in every werewolf movie?"
I frowned. "They ... scratch their fleas and howl?"
"No, you noodlehead," said Natalie. "They go on a rampage."
I put up a finger. "So you think maybe..."
"The monster's coming tonight," we said together.
Natalie nodded. "And I still think it did the vandalism. Remember, Ms. LaRue said her room had been torn apart by a wild animal. What could be wilder than a were-thing?"
"A bunch of Dirty Rotten Stinkers?" I scanned the cafeteria. "Anyhow, let's prepare for the worst. Where's Principal Zero?"
The huge cat stood chatting with a few teachers near the stage. As we approached, he was saying to Ms. Glick, "...and I'll bet she wins the Teacher of the Year Award for organizing this."
I think Ms. Burrower blushed. It's hard to tell with a mole. Boom-Boom LaRue looked like she had swallowed a pickled grub worm.
"Uh, Principal Zero," I said.
His tail twitched. "Not now, Gecko."
"It's about that... thing you asked me to do?"
Principal Zero frowned. He took my arm. "Excuse us, please, ladies," he purred. When we were alone in the corner, he growled, "What?"
"There is a were-something," said Natalie.
"A were-what?"
I shrugged. "We don't know, exactly. It was dark."
Principal Zero glanced around sharply. "Where is the creature now?"
"Uh, it gave us the slip."
His neck fur bristled. "You're the snoop," he said. "Go snoop around for it."
I jerked my head at the displays. "But ... my science project?"
"Blast your science project," he snarled. "Find that were-thing before it finds us. Then call the janitors."
He didn't need to tell me twice; I'd rather snoop than science any day.
As I headed backstage to investigate, Natalie lagged behind. She eyed the exhibits longingly.
"What?" I asked.
"I'll ... uh, watch the doors," she said.
I shook my head. My partner, the science nerd.
"Okay, but look sharp," I said. "We don't know which way this thing will jump."
I eased toward the curtains.
"Chet Gecko!" called Mr. Ratnose. "Go join your group."
"Can't," I said. "Principal's orders."
Mr. Ratnose's eyes narrowed. Much as I might have wanted to hear his discussion with Mr. Zero, it was time for action.
I slipped behind the curtains. The dust billowed. Hunting for a light switch, I shuffled along in the dimness.
From the corner of my eye, movement. I wasn't alone.
"Now we've got you!" crooned Bosco Rebbizi.
I backed away from him. A foot scraped behind me. I whirled.
A buff toad grinned at me—another gang member. I was trapped!
Zzwip!
I scaled the curtain in a flash, out of reach. Sometimes, it pays to be a gecko.
While Bosco and the toad fumbled for a ladder, I slithered through the gap in the curtains, slid to the floor, and ran into the crowded cafeteria.
Before they could track me, I shot out the door. Clouds filled the night sky. I looked both ways.
Now, where would a were-whatsit go to amuse itself? The swings? The library? The kennel?
I edged along the cafeteria wall, with one eye out for the monster and one eye out for gang members. This was one time it would've helped to have eyes like Shirley Chameleon's.
Turning the corner, I noticed an odd shape by the loading dock—some kind of tall box draped in cloth. As I moved closer, a twig cracked in the darkness.
There!—on the right—a dark figure loomed.
My quick gecko reflexes kicked in. I sprang to the wall.
A deep molasses voice drawled, "Like, take a chill pill, daddy-o."
"Cool Beans?"
"The real deal." The big possum ambled forward. "Now, what's the scam, Sam?"
I climbed down. "Looking for that were-creature," I said. "Hey, I thought you were sick?"
"Naw," said Cool Beans. "Just takin' a long nod back at my pad. Didn't want to miss the action. What's shakin'?"
"Nothing yet." I pointed at the tall box. "I was just about to check that out."
"Crazy, man. I'll cover you."
I walked up to the box and read a sign hanging on it: Science Fair Property. Don't even think about opening this.
I lifted an edge of the drapery. It revealed steel bars. I pushed the cloth higher and peered into the cage. It was darker than Dracula's belly button.
Hmm, a door.
Cool Beans spoke from behind me. "Should you be openin' that door, Sherlock?"
I opened it.
The moon appeared suddenly, and three things happened almost at once:
1) it shone on a furry shape inside the cage;
2) that furry shape blew up like a blimp in no time flat; and
3) it burst from the cage with an "Eeeee!" and bowled me over.
"I s'pose that answers my question," said Cool Beans.
19. Much Ado about Monsters
Tangled in the drapery, I sputtered, "After it!"
Cool Beans rushed to untangle me. An ice age passed. Civilizations rose, flourished, and died a miserable death. And still I was trapped.
"Hurry!" I said, struggling.
"Us possums only have two speeds," he said. "This is the fast one, man."
Beyond the slow-moving librarian, the were-thing disappeared around the building. Principal Zero was going to kill me.
With Cool Beans's help, I unwrapped myself. He was too slow; I'd have to chase down the monster alone. "Call the janitors," I said. "I'll try to head it off."
I charged after the were-creature, my coattails flying. Turning the corner, I skidded to a halt. The beast was standing under a tree. Monstrous, dark, and red eyed, the shaggy creature panted rapidly.
"Nice were-thingy," I said. The gentle touch works wonders.
It jumped like a frog on a whoopee cushion and tore away from me at top speed.
So much for the gentle touch. That thing was pretty skittish for a monster.
It dodged through a cafeteria door. I dashed into the room on its heels and smack into the middle of Pandemonium City.
The monster tore through the crowd like a hog through hog chow. Students and parents lunged out of the were-creature's way, trampling science projects and junior scientists alike.
"Stay calm!" shouted Principal Zero above the hubbub.
"My science project!" squealed Ms. Burrower.
Panting, I kept up the chase. The doorways were jammed with panicked kids; it couldn't escape. So the creature began tearing around the auditorium, running laps like a track star. No way could I tackle it. There had to be a better method for stopping it....
Natalie was crouching by the perpetual-motion wheel. I blinked. A brainstorm hit me. (It happens sometimes.)
I puffed up to her. "Natalie, when it comes around again, stand your ground."
"What?!" She looked at me like I'd flipped.
"Trust me," I said. "And make the loudest noise you can, on my signal."
She nodded shakily. I stepped aside and braced myself. Here came the marathon monster, barreling along.
It brushed past; I leaped behind it and spread my arms wide. "Now, Natalie!"
"AAA-OOOOGAHH!" she wailed, like a giant Klaxon.
Startled, the monster stopped dead. It whirled o
n me, and I flapped my arms, yelling, "YAAAGH!"
The were-creature turned again and half stumbled, half fell inside the spinning wheel. It scrambled to catch its balance. Then the monster dropped into a rhythm, running round and round inside the wheel, going nowhere fast.
The janitors arrived. Maureen DeBree and Luke Busy pushed through the crowd and stood waiting, armed with a net and rolls of duct tape. Gradually, the parents and kids overcame their fear and edged forward to watch. They murmured among themselves.
Ms. LaRue's bray cut through the noise like a hot sword through Jell-O. "I demand her resignation," she barked, stabbing a spiny finger at Ms. Burrower.
"Ms. Burrower's? Why?" asked Principal Zero.
"She created this, this thing as a science experiment, and endangered the whole school." Heidi LaRue bristled like an inside-out pincushion. "Someone could have been killed."
Mr. Zero turned to his Teacher of the Year. "Is this true?" he asked.
The mole blinked rapidly and lowered her head. "Aye," she said quietly. "It's my lunar transmogrification experiment."
The other teachers gasped and muttered among themselves.
"But I didn't intend to hurt anyone," said the mole. "I picked the quietest, mildest subject I could find: Lauren Order. And I kept her in my tunnels."
I flashed on the shy hamster I'd seen in the library, then looked at the huge hairy creature in the wheel. " That's a hamster?" I asked.
"A were-hamster, aye," said Ms. Burrower sadly. "The wee girl wouldn't hurt a fly; she only eats peanut butter and sunflower seeds."
Peanut butter and sunflower seeds? That rang a distant bell in my brain. But Ms. LaRue's buzz-saw voice drowned it out.
"Wouldn't hurt a fly, eh?" she said. "This unnatural creature has been vandalizing our school all week!" The hedgehog nodded, and Luke Busy stepped forward to grab Ms. Burrower's arm in one of his massive, clawed paws.
My brain churned. How could a hamster have done all that damage?
Mr. Ratnose looked from the were-hamster to me. "So that's the culprit," he said. "Fine detective you are, Chet Gecko."
I couldn't argue with that. Ah, well.
I had visions of doughnuts with little wings. They were flying away from me. I'd have to settle for my mom's peanut butter sandwiches.... Hey! Peanut butter!
"Wait just a minute," I said. "I know who the vandal is, and it's not the were-hamster!"
20. All Stinks Considered
A ring of astonished faces surrounded me. They all babbled at once like a passel of preschoolers at snack time.
"Impossible," said Ms. LaRue. "The creature's guilty; I know it."
"Explain yourself, Gecko," rasped Principal Zero.
I took a deep breath and hoped my mind could keep up with my mouth. "The hamster food, that's what tipped me off," I said.
"This is ridiculous," huffed the hedgehog. "Look at the creature's feet. There were huge, muddy footprints in the vandalized classrooms—exactly like tracks from those feet."
"Let him speak," said Mr. Zero.
I nodded and began to pace. "You see, when I checked out the wreckage in Mr. Ratnose's class, I found sunflower seeds, and on the wall, just a trace of peanut butter."
"That's right," said Maureen DeBree. "I saw the what-you-call, effervescence, when we was cleaning up."
"The evidence," I said. "That's right—evidence that someone, or several someones, lured the were-hamster into the trashed classroom to frame her, and cover their own tracks."
I scanned the crowd. An angry face was blasting me with laser eyes: Bosco Rebbizi. If looks could fry, I'd be a crispy critter.
"The culprit or culprits," I said, "vandalized for their own twisted purposes." Erik Nidd crept up to the circle and stared daggers at me. The tension stretched like an overstrung rubber band.
"And the culprit is...," I said, looking past Luke Busy to Bosco Rebbizi.
"It wasn't my idea!" Luke Busy exploded. "She made me do it, I swear!"
"Huh?"
The big badger pointed at Boom-Boom LaRue. "She wanted that Teacher of the Year Award, bad. She didn't want that mole lady to get it."
My head spun. "Right, so..."
"I did the damage," Luke said. "Those gashes in the wall, the tunnels on the playground—I did it all."
"You?" I said. "I mean, you! Because..."
The badger hung his massive, gray-striped head. "I'm just her smootchie-poo," he whispered. "I couldn't help myself."
"And that means...," said Natalie.
"Boom-Boom trashed the school to trash the mole lady's reputation." Luke Busy sighed.
Mr. Ratnose raised his eyebrows. "Darn, you're good," he muttered to me. I tipped my hat.
"Lies! All lies!" hissed Ms. LaRue, backing away. She turned to flee, then tripped over a net, expertly tossed by Maureen DeBree. "You'll hear from my lawyer."
"No," said Principal Zero, "we won't. But you might want to call him from jail."
A movement caught my eye. Luke Busy had taken advantage of the hullabaloo to sneak toward an open door.
"Stop him!" I shouted.
The badger made a break for it. Just then, Cool Beans materialized in the doorway. Luke Busy tripped over the possum's outthrust foot, and fell face first—fwamp!—knocking himself out cold.
Cool Beans sat on the soon-to-be ex-janitor. "Thanks for the seat, Stan," he drawled. "I'm all flaked out from the chase."
While Maureen DeBree wrapped up the culprits in duct tape, Natalie and I had a heart-to-heart with my teacher.
"Pretty fancy detective work, I must admit," said Mr. Ratnose. Natalie nudged me. "So you knew all along it was the janitor, and you tricked him into confessing?" he asked.
I looked at Natalie, she looked at me. "Absolutely," we said together. Someone who won't tell a small fib for a box of jelly doughnuts doesn't want them bad enough.
As we wandered off into the crowd to find our families, Natalie and I were waylaid by two Dirty Rotten Stinkers: Erik Nidd and Bosco Rebbizi. I clenched my fists, my tail curled.
Bosco smiled. "So you wasn't a stool pigeon after all," he said. "I was wrong about you two."
Erik grinned, revealing more sparkly fangs than a vampire beauty pageant. "Were-hamster ruckus at Science Fair," he boomed. "Great stunt! Better than Bosco's. How'd ya like to be the newest Dirty Rotten Stinkers?"
I looked up at him and shook my head. "Not for all the cookies in Kowloon," I said. As we slipped past them, Erik turned in shock to Bosco. "I was gonna show 'em the secret claw-shake, an' everything..."
As the old saying goes, I wouldn't want to belong to any club that would take someone like me as a member. Besides—and I think Natalie would agree with me on this—better a snooper than a Stinker, any day.
* * *
Has Chet bitten off
more than he can chew?
Find out in
This Gum for Hire
The stink alone should have tipped me off. I was taking a brain break on the swing set when a stench grabbed me in its funky blue fist.
It was strong enough to make a skunk blush. It smelled familiar.
Hmm, I thought. Cabbage and beans for breakfast?
But I didn't think fast enough.
Something snagged me in midswing—glomp!—and there I hung, stuck in the sky.
It was Herman the Gila Monster. He wasn't as big as Seattle, he wasn't as mean as a six-pack of hungry sharks. But the Big Bad Wolf could've learned something from Herman—his breath was strong enough to melt a brick house.
Normally, I kept my distance from the big lug. But since he'd already caught me, my best move was to play dumb.
Unfortunately, you can't play dumber than Herman without a lobotomy.
"You wanted to see me?" I asked.
I looked him over warily. Herman wore a look on his fanged face I'd call sad on anyone else.
"Gecko," he said, "I got problem."
"I've been meaning to mention that," I said. "You know, a little mouthwash�
��"
"Not funny," he rumbled. "Problem big."
He was serious.
I'd never figured myself as a friendly ear for schoolyard thugs, but what the heck. I bit.
"What's on your mind?" I asked. "And I use that term loosely."
Herman sighed like an avalanche on a distant mountain. "Team in trouble. Coach blame me."
The Gila monster was a fearsome football player. Several times, he'd been kicked off the team for his hijinks, but they always brought him back. Emerson Hicky Elementary took its sports seriously, and a monster on the front line is hard to find.
Like I cared about that.
"So," I asked, "why are you telling me about it?"
Herman's heavy head swung my way. "Players disappearing," he said. "Not my fault. Gecko can find players."
"Oh no. Not me," I said.
"Gecko will help," he growled. "Or Gecko will need help." The Gila monster shook his other fist meaningfully. I got the picture.
Then, a thought took that long, lonely trip across Herman's mind. His fangs twinkled in a smile. "Plus, Herman will pay. One chocolate cake for every player you find."
I smiled back. "That should've been the first thing you said, buddy boy. Tell the nice detective all about it."
Look for more mysteries from the Tattered Casebook
of Chet Gecko in hardcover and paperback
Case #1 The Chameleon Wore Chartreuse
Some cases start rough, some cases start easy. This one started with a dame. (That's what we private eyes call a girl.) She was cute and green and scaly. She looked like trouble and smelled like ... grasshoppers.
Shirley Chameleon came to me when her little brother, Billy, turned up missing. (I suspect she also came to spread cooties, but that's another story.) She turned on the tears. She promised me some stinkbug pie. I said I'd find the brat.
But when his trail led to a certain stinky-breathed, bad-tempered, jumbo-sized Gila monster, I thought I'd bitten off more than I could chew. Worse, I had to chew fast: If I didn't find Billy in time, it would be bye-bye, stinkbug pie.
Case #2 The Mystery of Mr. Nice
How would you know if some criminal mastermind tried to impersonate your principal? My first clue: He was nice to me.
