Ghouls Gone Wild (8 page)

Dad was wearing his best suit, which was also his only suit. Mom is always after him to buy more dress-up clothes. But Dad always argues, “I don't need dress-up clothes to go to the wrestling matches.”

That's about the only time Dad takes Mom out. When the wrestling matches come to the arena downtown.

“I always fly first class,” Mr. Grimmus was telling my dad. He patted his big belly. “I don't like to be fenced in.”

Dad laughed really loud, as if Mr. Grimmus had just told a terrific joke.

Then Dad saw Colin and me on the stairway. “Mr. Grimmus, here are my two sons, Colin and Max,” he said.

Mr. Grimmus shook hands with Colin. He squeezed Colin's hand so hard, I heard my brother's ears pop.

Then the big Texan turned to me. “How ya doin’, ol’ hoss?” He slapped me hard on the back. I only choked for two or three minutes.

Dad led the way into the living room. Mr. Grimmus’ boots thundered on the floor as we walked. When he sat down, he took up almost the whole couch. He unbuttoned his vest and his stomach popped out like a balloon.

“Where's the little lady?” he asked, glancing around.

“She went out for a moment,” Dad said. “She wants dinner tonight to be special.”

“I can't wait,” Mr. Grimmus said, rubbing his hands together. “I'm so hungry, I could eat a calf.”

Dad laughed really hard again. I could see that he was totally tense. Usually, he only laughs at Colin making fun of me.

Mr. Grimmus turned to Colin and me. “What sports do you play?” he asked Colin.

Colin leaned forward in his chair and cracked his knuckles. “Well, I'm all-state in three sports,” he said. “Football, basketball, and track.”

“If chasing girls is a sport,” Dad said, “Colin is all-state in that, too!”

He and Mr. Grimmus tossed back their heads and laughed really hard at that. Mr. Grimmus’ face turned even redder than before.

He turned to me. “And what
do you
do?”

“I clap for Colin,” I said.

I meant it as a joke. But this time, no one laughed.

Colin sneaked his big shoe over mine and stepped down hard on my foot.

“Ow!” I let out a cry. I couldn't help it.

That made Colin dig his heel into the top of my sneaker. Pain shot up my leg. But I gritted my teeth and didn't say anything.

Mr. Grimmus squinted at me. His mustache twitched. “You wouldn't kid an old cowboy, would you, Max? What sports
do
you play?”

“Well… I made captain of the math team this year,” I said.

Mr. Grimmus smiled at Colin. “I guess there's only one athlete in this family,” he said. “How fast do you run the four-forty, boy?”

“I hold the school record,” Colin said, cracking his knuckles again.

I saw Dad glaring at me. I knew I was letting him down. He wanted me to impress his new boss too. He didn't want Mr. Grimmus to know that I'm a helpless wimp.

I took a deep breath and decided to give it another try. “Uh…the kids at school all call me Brainimon,” I said. “That's because I'm at the top of my class.”

Mr. Grimmus’ bulby red nose twitched. “Brainimon? What kinda word is that? Is that some kinda foreign language?” He grinned. “The only foreign language I speak is Texan!
Haw, haw, haw.”

He and Dad practically busted a gut over that one.

After that, everyone grew silent. It was totally tense. I could see that Dad wanted to keep the conversation going, but he couldn't think of anything else to say.

Mr. Grimmus tapped a rhythm on his knees with his big hands. He started to whistle to himself.

Colin cracked his knuckles again.

“Uh …,” Dad started. I could see his eyes spinning. He knew this wasn't going well. “Nice day,” he said finally.

Mr. Grimmus nodded. “Hot as a prairie dog's behind,” he said.

That didn't make any sense to me. But I kept quiet.

“Supposed to be a nice spring,” Dad added. Sweat was rolling down his forehead. He mopped his bald head with one hand.

Looking over Mr. Grimmus’ shoulder, I saw
Nicky and Tara come down the stairs. Tara had the big spell book under one arm.

Panic swept over me. They're going to get me in horrible trouble, I thought. Of course, I don't want to move away. But if something goes wrong with this dinner tonight, I'll be blamed.

And then
I'll
be the dead meat around here. Mom and Dad will
kill
me!

My brain spun wildly. I felt totally helpless. Yes, I wanted to stay here. No, I didn't want the ghosts to get me in major trouble tonight.

“Go away!” I shouted, waving them back.

Mr. Grimmus’ mouth dropped open. “Sorry, ol’ hoss. I didn't hear you correctly.”

Nicky and Tara stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“I mean it. Go away,” I said.

Mr. Grimmus scowled at me. He jumped to his feet. “I don't understand, young man. I—”

Dad's eyes burned angrily into mine. “Max, what is your problem?”

“I … I was talking to that fly,” I said. I pretended to swat at a fly. “It's been buzzing around my head.” I swatted again. “Go away, fly. I mean it. Go away!”

Colin chuckled. “Max is an artist,” he told Mr. Grimmus. “He draws flies.”

Dad laughed at that one. But Mr. Grimmus just stared at me.

Colin tromped down hard on my foot again.

Mr. Grimmus was still standing in front of the couch, his huge belly hovering over the coffee table. Suddenly, he turned to the stairs and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

He let out a gasp and pointed. “That book—it's floating down the stairs by itself!”

I darted across the room and grabbed the book out of Tara's hands.

Dad, Colin, and Mr. Grimmus were all staring at me.

“It's a book about helium balloons,” I said. “Very clever how they do that, isn't it?”

They kept staring.

Luckily, Mom stuck her head out the kitchen door. “Dinner is served, gentlemen,” she announced. “Please, everyone come in.”

Whew. A close call.

I followed everyone into the dining room. I had my fingers crossed. Would dinner with Mr. Grimmus go okay, without any disasters?

Three guesses.

M
R
. G
RIMMUS REACHED OVER
the table and slapped Dad on the back. “You've got a fine little filly here, Doyle!” he boomed. He grinned at Mom.

Mom lowered her head and gave him a shy smile.

“I'm loving these chops,” Mr. Grimmus said. “I could eat me a whole side of lamb.
Haw, haw.”

Dad laughed with him. Mom started to choke on her salad. But she covered up pretty well.

“I'm glad you're enjoying your dinner, Mr. Grimmus,” Mom said. “Your visit was a big surprise. But I tried to whip up something you'd like.”

Mr. Grimmus swallowed a mountain of mashed potatoes. “I like your family, Doyle,” he said, nodding at Dad. “You pass the family test. I think y'all will do really fine in Texas.”

“I'm pretty proud of them too,” Dad said. He smiled at Mom and Colin.

The dinner was going well. But I felt so totally weird. Dad never talked like that in his life. He sounded so stiff and tense. And he looked so
strange, wearing a necktie at the dinner table. Sometimes, when we had no company, he didn't even wear a shirt!

“I did a social studies unit on Texas last year,” Colin said. “I wrote a paper about cattle ranchers and how they fought against sheepherders. It was totally interesting.”

You go, Colin! My bro was really working the charm. And Mr. Grimmus was eating it up.

“Luckily, my family was in the barbed wire business,” Mr. Grimmus said. “Those ranchers all needed fences. They made us as rich as the filling in a pecan pie!”

He and Dad shared another big laugh.

“Well, I loved reading about Texas,” Colin continued. “I can't wait to see it in person.”

Whoa. My brother was really going for the gold star tonight!

“I'll take you out to my ranch,” Mr. Grimmus told Colin. “I've got a hundred and thirty-three different kinds of cactus there. I think you'll find that very interesting.”

“You got that right,” Colin replied.

“Is it cactus or cacti?” I chimed in.

Mr. Grimmus frowned at me. “You'll know if you
sit
on one, boy!” he exclaimed.

Everyone laughed at that one. I tried to fake some laughter too. Just to show I was a good sport.

I kept glancing at Mom and then at Dad. They didn't really
like
this big, loudmouthed balloon—
did
they?

At least the dinner was going smoothly. No ghouls. No spilled sour milk or pies in the face.

Maybe I'd get out of it alive.

Mr. Grimmus seemed to be enjoying himself a lot. And I could see that Dad was happy. He was passing the test.

Mom offered Mr. Grimmus the platter of lamb chops. Then she served more mashed potatoes and string beans.

Mr. Grimmus was telling us about his family. He had seven children by his first wife, and seven children by his second wife.

“I guess seven is my lucky number!” he exclaimed.

“Or maybe fourteen,” I said.

He squinted at me. “No, hoss. Seven. Seven has always been my lucky number. Not fourteen. I know you're a math freak, but don't try to change my lucky number.”

“Sorry,” I muttered.

Mr. Grimmus picked up a lamb chop and raised it high. “This is lamb chop number seven,” he said. “See? My lucky night.” He chomped into the chop.

I finished my glass of apple juice. I glanced toward the kitchen.

And to my surprise, I saw the freezer door at the top of the fridge swing open.

At first, I thought I was imagining things. But no. The freezer had opened up.

A few seconds later, I saw Mr. Grimmus set down his lamb chop and sniff the air.

He made a face. He sniffed the air again. He made another face.

“You smell something?” he asked.

M
OM AND
D
AD SNIFFED
.
They both made disgusted faces.

Colin sniffed. He pinched his fingers over his nose and laughed. “Max isn't toilet trained,” he said.

“Shut up!” I cried.

Colin waved a big fist at me. “Who's gonna make me?”

“Boys—please!” Mom shouted. “We don't want to give Mr. Grimmus the wrong idea about you two.”

Dad glared angrily at me. “I'm warning you. No trouble,” he said through gritted teeth.

Mr. Grimmus wasn't paying any attention to us. He had covered his nose with a checkered handkerchief. “Something rotten here,” he muttered. His eyes began to water.

In the kitchen, I saw a package of spoiled, green meat fall out of the open freezer. It landed
with a soft
plop
, and the shrink-wrap package broke open.

“Uh, Mom …,” I started, pointing to the freezer.

“Shhh. Enough out of you, Max,” Mom said. “Please be quiet and let us all enjoy our dinner.”

Enjoy our dinner? How
could
we, with that disgusting, rank odor floating over the table?

“Mom, please—”

Why wouldn't she let me explain what was happening?

I turned back to the kitchen.

Another package of spoiled meat rolled out of the freezer. And then another.

Plop. Plop.

They landed on top of each other.

The sour, stinging odor floated into the dining room, stronger now. My eyes began to water too.

I held my hand over my mouth. I didn't want to puke.

“How about those Yankees?” Dad said to Mr. Grimmus. “Do you believe they bought another All-Star pitcher?”

Dad was trying to keep things going. But it wasn't going to work. The putrid smell was making us all choke.

“Mom—” I tried again.

But she hushed me with both hands.

In the kitchen, I saw the gross, smelly meat burst from its packaging and make a big, disgusting pile on the kitchen floor.

“Mom—?”

I stared in shock as the pile of meat began to move. At first, I thought it was just toppling over. But then I saw the rancid green hunks squeezing together.

They were forming one big glob of rotten meat.

And then the pile heaved forward.

I heard a sick
squish
as the meat raised itself, moving slowly, silently. The meat piled high, rising to form a shape.

It looked like a snowman! A snowman made out of decayed, stinking meat.

“Uh—uh—uh—” I tried to warn everyone. But I was in shock. No words would come out.

The pile of meat shifted again. Shifted to form a new shape—a human shape with chunky legs and wobbly, trembling meat arms. It rose up as tall as me! And, with a sickening
squish squish
, it came lumbering toward the dining room.

I turned, and behind Mr. Grimmus I saw Nicky and Tara enter the room. Tara had her big spell book under her arm.

“I can't believe you did this!” I screamed. “I can't believe you brought the meat to life!”

Mr. Grimmus leaped up from his chair. “Young man, are you talking to
me?”

The meat monster staggered into the dining room.

“Stop
it!” I screamed at Tara. “Make it stop!”

“I … I don't know how,” she said.

M
R
. G
RIMMUS WAS ON HIS FEET
.
His face turned even redder than before, and his mustache twitched. “Young man, what do you want me to stop?”

“I wasn't talking to you,” I said. “I was talking to the meat!”

“Max, please—” Mom said.

But then Mr. Grimmus finally saw the huge meat monster plopping into the dining room. “Whoa!” He staggered back against the dining room wall.

Dad saw it too. “Max, is this one of your tricks? I
warned
you!”

“I didn't do it!” I screamed. “It was Tara. One of the ghosts.”

Mr. Grimmus squinted at me. “Ghosts? Is that a ghost walking into the dining room?”

I turned to Nicky and Tara. “Do something!”

The rotten meat creature plopped up to the dining room table.

I couldn't breathe. The sour stink was choking me.

Colin jumped up from his seat, a sick expression on his face. He turned from the table, leaned over his chair, and began to retch noisily, barfing up his lamb chops onto the carpet.