The Attack of the Aqua Apes

by R. L. Stine

  “I hate you!” Kelly screamed at Scott. “I hate you both!” Then she burst into tears.

  “Don’t cry, Kelly,” her mother said soothingly. She gently stroked Kelly’s hair—well, what was left of it—as she glared at Scott. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay!” Kelly wailed. “My dress is ruined! Now I can’t go to the dance!”

  “We’re just going to have to go out and buy the dress in the mall,” her mother said. “And you, young man, are going to pay for it,” she said to Scott. “Out of your allowance. Even if it takes the rest of your life!”

  Scott stood silent.

  “In fact,” his mother continued, “Kelly and I are going to go out right now to get it. I will deal with you and this mess when I get back!”

  Scott’s mother and Kelly left without another word.

  “I wish I’d never heard of aqua apes,” Scott moaned. Then his head dropped to his chest—and Mac sprang out from between the sofa cushions.

  “There he is!” Glen screamed. Mac screamed back even louder, baring his teeth.

  “Get him,” Scott yelled.

  Mac grabbed a handful of the beads from Kelly’s ruined dress and hurled them at Scott and Glen.

  Three of the beads hit Scott in the face. “Ye-ouch!” Scott cried, trying to rub away the stinging pain.

  Mac grabbed one of the sleeves of Kelly’s dress and raced out of the den.

  “We’ve got to find him,” Scott said. “He’s not going to stop until he gets us.”

  “Let’s split up,” Glen suggested. “You take the upstairs. I’ll look for him down here.”

  “Good idea!” Scott agreed.

  Scott charged up the stairs. The first door he came to was the hall linen closet. He peeked inside. No Mac hiding in the bedsheets. He bent down on his hands and knees to check the closet floor—when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

  Scott sprang up and screamed.

  “It’s just me,” Glen whispered.

  “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be checking the downstairs.”

  “I—uh—decided we shouldn’t split up after all,” Glen stammered. “It’s, um, not safe. . . .”

  “Sshh!” Scott interrupted. “Listen.” Scott stared into the closet, expecting to see Mac jump out at them.

  Then he realized the sound he heard wasn’t coming from the closet. It was coming from down the hall.

  “It sounds like water running,” Glen said.

  “Come on!” Scott grabbed Glen and tugged him down the hall. “He’s in the bathroom!”

  The moment they reached the bathroom door, Scott gasped. Water was spilling over the sink, flooding the bathroom floor.

  “Look at this! The whole place is soaked!” Scott quickly turned the water off. “Get some towels!”

  Glen jerked a cabinet open, yanked out some towels, and threw them down on the floor.

  As Scott and Glen soaked up the water, they noticed even more water pouring out onto the floor.

  Only it wasn’t coming from the sink.

  It was coming from under the lid of the toilet bowl.

  “What is going on?” Scott lifted the lid of the toilet to peer inside.

  And there was Mac.

  Glaring up at him.

  His eyes were jet-black now. The centers were red and glowing.

  Mac bared his ugly teeth. They were longer and sharper than ever. Even his fur looked sharp, like porcupine quills.

  Scott slammed the toilet shut. “He’s in there. And he’s bigger and meaner than ever!”

  “Flush him!” Glen screamed. “Flush him!” He sat down on the top part of the lid. “Hurry up!”

  Mac shoved hard against the lid. The lid flew open with a bang. Glen crashed to the floor.

  “Get up!” Scott screamed, trying to hold the lid down by himself. “Help me!”

  Glen jumped up and sat on the lid again. But Mac snapped it open—just enough to shoot out a furry claw. And jab it into Glen’s leg.

  “Oooow,” Glen wailed, grasping his thigh.

  “Stand up a little so I can shove his hand back inside,” Scott cried.

  Glen stood up and Scott tried to push Mac’s hand down into the toilet, but Mac swiped at Scott’s arm. Scott let out a shriek as blood trickled from the cut.

  Now both of Mac’s arms were hanging out of the toilet. Then he popped his head out, too. He was grinning. An evil grin.

  Scott leaned over, picked up the toilet bowl brush next to the sink, and batted Mac with it.

  The hairy creature slid from the rim and plopped into the water.

  Glen slammed the lid down once again. The two boys leaped on top of it together.

  “Flush it!” Glen screamed. “Flush it! Now!”

  Scott reached behind him and pushed the handle down hard.

  From inside, they heard Mac screech—long and loud.

  Scott froze as he heard the water swirling around the inside of the bowl.

  Then he heard the sound of the water being sucked down through the pipes.

  Then everything went silent.

  23

  “You look.”

  “I don’t want to look,” Glen said. “Why do we have to look, anyway?”

  “We have to make sure he’s really gone. That’s why.” Scott sighed.

  “Well, it’s your toilet bowl, so you look.”

  It took all the courage Scott had to lift the toilet lid and peek inside.

  He lifted it slowly.

  He stared into the water.

  There was no sign of Mac. One flush had sent Mac swirling out of their lives for good. As Scott closed the lid, another sigh escaped his lips—this one a sigh of relief.

  Scott glanced around the bathroom. “We’d better start cleaning up this mess before my mother gets home. Go downstairs to the kitchen and get a mop so we can sop up all this water from the floor.”

  Glen headed out.

  Scott lifted the soaking wet bath mat off the floor and dropped it into the bathtub. He sat on the edge of the tub and started wringing what seemed like gallons of water out of the mat.

  Crack! The lid of the toilet blew open!

  24

  Scott watched in horror as Mac burst out of the toilet and flew straight at him.

  Scott screamed as Mac hovered above him.

  Mac had the wingspan of a bat now. He flapped his wings wildly and let out a bloodcurdling shriek.

  Scott couldn’t take his eyes off Mac’s glistening yellow teeth. They had grown to the size of fangs.

  Mac dove down, claws stretched out at Scott.

  “Get away from me!” Scott covered his face with one arm.

  Mac retreated. Then he swooped down again, his mouth open wide—ready to bite.

  Scott dashed out of the bathroom. He ran down the hallway. Mac flew after him. Screeching and swooping.

  “Glen!” Scott screamed as he reached the top of the stairs. “Help me!” Scott barely got the words out of his mouth before Mac attacked, diving straight for his face.

  Scott felt Mac’s razor-sharp claws scratch his cheek. Scott jerked away. His feet slipped on the carpeted stairs. Slipped out from under him. And he tumbled down the stairs.

  When he reached the bottom, he scrambled up—before Mac could swoop down on him again.

  He raced through the living room toward the kitchen. Mac hovered right over him. Screeching and diving.

  Glen headed out of the kitchen with a mop in one hand and a cookie in the other. At the sight of Mac, he dropped both. “Where did he come from?” he screamed, dashing back into the kitchen.

  “He came back out of the toilet!” Scott yelled. “And now he’s trying to kill me!”

  Mac swooped down at Scott’s face again. This time, Scott tried to grab him. But Mac’s fur jabbed into Scott’s palms. “Don’t touch him!” Scott told Glen. “His hair feels like needles!”

  “I don’t want to touch him!” Glen hollered as he dove under the kitchen table.


  Scott’s eyes darted around the kitchen—searching for something he could use for protection. He thought about grabbing the flyswatter, but no way would that stop Mac.

  Mac swooped under the table and headed for Glen. “Watch out!” Scott screamed. Glen rolled out of the way before Mac could claw him.

  Mac circled the kitchen and landed on top of the refrigerator. And for a minute he just perched there—cackling at Scott and Glen.

  “We’ve got to do something!” Glen cried. “Or we’re going to die!”

  Scott noticed the frying pan sitting on top of the stove. It gave him an idea.

  With one eye on Mac, Scott edged over to the stove and grabbed the pan. He hid it behind his back.

  “Come on, you stupid pig-monkey,” Scott called angrily. “Come and get me!”

  “Are you out of your mind!” Glen jumped to the other side of the room.

  “Come on, Mac!” Scott yelled again, ignoring Glen. “Come get me, you dumb aqua ape!”

  Mac fluttered his wings. He bared his teeth. He let out one, loud, angry screech. And then he dove from the top of the refrigerator—straight at Scott.

  Scott swung the frying pan and prepared to slam Mac the same way he would a fast ball. Just as Mac came about an arm’s length away, Scott swung as hard as he could. A direct hit!

  Mac sailed across the kitchen and slammed into the opposite wall with a splat. Then he crumpled to the floor, stunned.

  “We’ve got to put him in something quick—before he wakes up,” Scott told Glen.

  “Then what are we going to do with him?” Glen asked. He bent down and started digging through one of the lower cabinets.

  “Nothing. You know how he gets all dry and wrinkly when he’s out of the water too long?”

  “Yeah,” Glen answered, moving on to the next cabinet.

  “Well, I bet if we keep him trapped out of water, he’ll dry up completely. He’ll turn back into one of the crystals.”

  “Maybe,” Glen answered. He didn’t sound convinced.

  Scott noticed the cookie jar on the counter.

  “We’ll put him in this,” he said as he grabbed the jar.

  Mac started to moan.

  “Hurry up! Hurry up!” Glen warned.

  Scott quickly opened the jar and dumped all the cookies out onto the counter. Then he tiptoed over to Mac. “Just pick him up and put him in here,” Scott whispered to Glen.

  “I’m not picking him up,” Glen said.

  “I smashed him,” Scott insisted. “You pick him up!”

  “I’m not touching him!” Glen screamed.

  “Fine.” Scott grabbed the aqua ape by the tip of one wing and dropped him in the jar.

  “Now what?” Glen asked.

  “Tape!” Scott answered. He grabbed a roll of heavy-duty tape from the junk drawer. “Hold the lid on,” Scott ordered. Then he used the whole roll to tape the top on the jar.

  “I’m going to get some more tape,” Scott announced. “Just to make sure.”

  “Well, hurry up!” Glen screamed after him. “Before he wakes up and chews through this thing.”

  Scott dashed out to the garage and came back with a roll of clear tape, a roll of electrical tape, and two rolls of masking tape.

  “I thought I heard him scratching around in there,” Glen said. “He’s waking up.”

  Scott and Glen wrapped the entire cookie jar in tape. They didn’t hear another sound from Mac.

  When all the tape was gone, they took the jar up to Scott’s room and stuck it all the way in the back of his closet. They piled some old clothes in front of it. Then they shut the closet door behind them.

  25

  “Listen,” Scott said to Glen three days later. He shook the cookie jar near Glen’s ear.

  Glen listened. “I don’t hear a thing,” he told Scott.

  Scott shook the jar again, closer to Glen’s ear. “Do you hear it now?” Scott asked.

  Glen started to shake his head no. But he stopped himself. “Yeah,” he answered. “It hardly sounds like anything at all.”

  “I think it worked,” Scott said. “I think Mac’s dried up into a little crystal again.”

  “I don’t know,” Glen replied nervously.

  “It’s been three whole days since he’s been out of water.” Scott was trying to convince himself as much as Glen.

  “Why can’t we just throw this stupid cookie jar in the garbage and forget about it?”

  “Because we’ve got to make sure that he’s really gone,” Scott told Glen. “And we’ll never know for sure unless we look.”

  “I don’t want to look!” Glen insisted.

  “We’ve got to do it, Glen,” Scott said, even though he didn’t want to look either. “If we don’t, we’ll always be afraid Mac’s going to come after us.”

  Scott took a deep breath and started peeling off the tape.

  Glen jumped off the bed in a panic. “What if he isn’t a crystal, huh? What if he’s in there just trying to psych us out?”

  “What do you mean?” Scott stopped peeling the tape.

  “What if he’s clinging to the sides of the stupid thing so we can’t hear him moving around when we shake it?”

  “There’s nothing in there for him to cling to,” Scott answered. And just to make sure he shook the jar again—as hard as he could.

  Scott started peeling off the tape again. And with every layer he unwrapped, he could see Glen turning whiter and whiter.

  What if Glen was right? What if opening the jar was a big mistake?

  Scott’s hands were trembling as he pulled off the last piece of tape.

  “If you open that up,” Glen warned, “and he’s in there—we’re dead.”

  Scott knew that was true. But he had to do it. He had to know once and for all that Mac was out of their lives for good.

  Scott held his breath. But as he pulled the lid off, the air that was trapped inside of his chest escaped in a huge sigh of relief.

  “Glen!” Scott cried out excitedly. “It worked!”

  “We did it!” Glen exclaimed. He high-fived Scott. “We got rid of Mac!”

  For a minute the two boys sat on the bed, staring into the jar. Scott couldn’t believe that it was finally over. He couldn’t believe that the only thing left of the monster they had created was a tiny little black crystal.

  “So what are we going to do with it?” Glen asked, finally breaking the silence.

  “Nothing,” Scott answered, as he reached for the lid of the jar. “We’re never going to do anything with it ever again.” Scott closed the cookie jar. “Until the day we die, Mac is staying a crystal. And he’s staying right here.”

  Scott buried the jar in the back of his closet.

  The battle was finally over.

  The swimming, waving, disgusting little pig-monkey of a monster was definitely out of their lives for good.

  26

  “Don’t even think about it!”

  “Aw, come on, Glen,” Scott begged. “Look how cool this is.” Scott bit the inside of his lip so he wouldn’t crack up in Glen’s face.

  Glen didn’t even bother glancing at the ad Scott was waving in front of his nose. He just stared at Scott—as if he were insane.

  “Wonder worms, Glen,” Scott said, as he pointed to the ad in the comic book. “We’ve got to get them!”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  Scott cracked up. He couldn’t keep a straight face any longer. “Gotcha!”

  “Not funny.” Glen sighed. “Are we going to the mall or what?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Yeah.” Scott laughed as he threw the comic book down on his bed. “We’re going. Just let me get my jacket.”

  Things are finally back to normal, Scott thought as he made his way to the closet. The video game place at the mall even had a new manager, so he and Glen could hang out there again.

  Scott pulled open his closet door.

  “Nooooo!” Scott screamed.

  Nothing in his closet wa
s where it had been when Scott took off for school that morning. All his clothes were hanging neatly. And all the shoes were lined up on the floor.

  And the cookie jar was nowhere to be seen.

  “What? What?” Glen yelled.

  “My mother cleaned my closet!” Scott exclaimed. He didn’t have to say another word for Glen to know exactly what the problem was.

  “Mom!” Scott hollered, as he and Glen raced out of the room and down the stairs. “Mom!”

  “I’m in the kitchen,” she called back.

  “Mom!” Scott ran into the kitchen with Glen right behind. “Mom,” Scott repeated, trying to sound calm. “Did you by any chance clean my room today?” He already knew the answer.

  His mother laughed. “So you noticed,” she said over her shoulder as she bent down to get something out of the cabinet under the sink. “Maybe you can try to keep it that way for a while, huh?”

  “Yeah.” He told her what she wanted to hear, just so she would answer his next question. “When you were cleaning my room, did you find a cookie jar in my closet?”

  “Yes,” she answered, pouring detergent into the dishwasher. “As a matter of fact, I did. And do you mind telling me what my cookie jar was doing in the bottom of your closet?”

  Scott ignored his mother’s question and asked another one of his own. One that was much more important. “You didn’t open it, did you?”

  “Yes. I did.” His mother stared at him as if he were nuts. She closed the dishwasher door. “But there was nothing in it.”

  “Are you sure?” Glen asked.

  “I didn’t see anything,” she told him. “Just some crumbs. What are all these questions about?”

  Scott ignored her again. “Well, what did you do with it?” he asked. “What did you do with the cookie jar?”

  “It’s in the dishwasher,” she answered, pushing the button to turn the dishwasher on.

  “No!” Scott and Glen screamed. But it was already too late. They could already hear the sound of water spraying inside the machine.

  “You two definitely need a hobby,” Scott’s mother said, as she turned and headed out of the room.

  Scott and Glen stood frozen in horror.

  They stared at the machine.