The Wizard of Ooze

by R. L. Stine

  “MOM! DAD! Help me!”

  The hoarse scream burst from my throat.

  My cry seemed to startle The Ooze. His black eyes went wide. He staggered back a step.

  “MOM! DAD!” I shrieked. “I need HELP! Hurry!”

  The Ooze jabbed his open hand in my face. “Shut up, punk. Just give me the book. Give it to me and I’ll beat it.”

  “MOM! DAD! Hurry!” I screamed.

  Over the pounding of my heart, I heard footsteps. Fast footsteps coming down the hall.

  The Ooze heard them, too. To my surprise, he spun away from me.

  “I don’t need this,” he growled. “Know what I mean?”

  He lumbered to the open window. He grabbed the window frame and hoisted his huge body onto the ledge.

  “I’ll be back,” he growled. And then he let go of the window and jumped out. Vanished into the night.

  I was still huddled in my bed, shaking and shivering. The sickening tar odor lingered in my nose. I could still feel the disgusting wet heat from The Ooze’s body.

  The door shot open. Mom and Dad tore into the room, wrapping their bathrobes around them. Wide-eyed and alarmed.

  “Marco? What happened?”

  “Marco? What’s wrong?”

  Their eyes went to the floor. They both gasped in surprise and confusion.

  I followed their gaze. And saw the big oily black footprints on my white bedroom rug.

  “What’s that?” Dad cried. “Who did that?”

  And then Mom saw the burns in the bedspread. The ragged splits in the material.

  “Marco — you’ve got some explaining to do! What have you done to your room? Have you gone CRAZY?”

  “It’s … my science experiment,” I said. “It’s not working.”

  “What kind of science experiment?” Mom cried. “An experiment to ruin your room?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it all up in the morning. I promise.”

  “You’ll do more than clean it up,” Dad said. He stared at the black footprints and shook his head. “I want a full explanation of this science experiment in the morning.”

  “It’s for extra credit,” I said. That usually wins them over. But I knew it wouldn’t work this time.

  Mom yawned loudly. “I’ve got to get some sleep. We’ll talk about this in the morning, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Dad studied me for a long moment. Then he followed Mom out of the room.

  The oily black footprints glowed in the light from my lamp.

  I had to tell someone about this. I couldn’t keep it to myself.

  I couldn’t tell Mom and Dad. They wouldn’t understand. And I couldn’t tell Zeke. He was too little. And too weird. It would probably just make him laugh.

  “Gabriella.” I murmured her name. “Yes. Gabriella.”

  I glanced at the bed-table clock. Two in the morning.

  I knew I couldn’t call her this late. Her parents would kill both of us!

  I grabbed my cell phone with a trembling hand. I clicked open the keyboard and texted her. I typed text after text.

  I told her everything, starting with my dream. I told her about the open window … the oily footprints … how The Ooze wanted to ooze me earlier … how the book was stolen.

  My thumbs flew. I typed and typed. It felt good to get the story out. To tell someone I could trust. I knew Gabriella would believe me. And I knew she wouldn’t tell anyone else.

  I sent the texts. Then I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the phone.

  No reply. Of course not. It was the middle of the night. Gabriella had to be sound asleep.

  “She’ll see it first thing in the morning,” I told myself.

  I climbed back under the covers. I wanted to go back to sleep.

  But how could I? That big, dangerous creep had broken into my room. And I knew he would come back.

  “I have to destroy him before he destroys me!”

  The words escaped my lips. I knew I sounded like a character in a comic book.

  A comic book …

  My mind spun. I pictured all the Ooze books I read. And suddenly … I knew how I could destroy him.

  “Oh!”

  I let out a cry when I heard scraping sounds at my window.

  I realized I’d forgotten to close it. I’d left it wide open.

  The Ooze! The Ooze was back already!

  I jerked straight up and stared in horror.

  Stared at a flash of blinding yellow light.

  And a scream of shock and horror burst from my throat.

  The flaming man filled the window with his fiery light.

  Bright sparks shot off his head and body. He rolled through the window, onto my bedroom floor — a blazing fireball.

  “No!” I cried. I jumped out of bed.

  The Ooze had left oil all over my rug. Would this guy’s flames start a huge fire?

  I started to run to the door. But my blanket tangled around my ankles, and I fell facedown in front of him.

  The flames crackled as they darted out from his dark clothing. He raised both arms, and flames shot straight up, nearly touching the ceiling.

  He glared at me with his green eyes. The rest of his face was hidden behind the bright curtain of red and yellow.

  “Where is it?” His voice rushed at me like the roar of a bonfire.

  I blinked. I didn’t know how to answer.

  “Where is it?” he repeated. “Where did you hide it?”

  “Huh?”

  I pulled my legs free from the blanket. I stumbled back against the bed.

  The flames shooting off his body made wild shadows jump and dance. Sparks landed on my desk, my dresser, and fizzled out.

  “You — you already took it!” I finally found my voice. “What do you want? You already have it!”

  “NOOOOO!” A burst of fire shot out all around him. “Where did you hide it?”

  “I — I — I —” I stuttered. “I don’t understand! What are you talking about? You have the book!”

  Moving quickly, he began circling my room. His fiery hands swept the papers off my desk. He pulled open dresser drawers.

  Flames scorched the wallpaper. Smoky embers crackled on the carpet.

  “Where issssss it?” he hissed.

  “You — you’re going to set my room on fire!” I cried.

  “I’ll burn it all down if you don’t hand it over to me!” he shouted. He raised his hand to the curtains. “Watch it all burn.”

  “No. Please — I don’t understand.”

  I edged my way to my closet. I suddenly remembered something. On the closet floor near the back.

  If only I could get there in time …

  “I — I’m getting it for you,” I stammered.

  I had no idea what he wanted. He had the Ooze book. What more could I give him?

  But I had to stall him. I had to get to the closet. I knew it was my only chance.

  He stepped away from the curtains to watch me. The flames from his hands retreated.

  “I’m getting it,” I repeated. “It’s in here.”

  I pulled open the closet door and stepped inside. I had to duck low under my hanging clothes.

  I couldn’t see anything. It was pitch-black inside the closet.

  I bent down and fumbled through the stuff on the floor. Feeling blindly, I pushed shoes and sneakers out of the way.

  “Where issss it?” the flaming man called. I could hear the flames hiss with each word.

  “Found it!” I cried.

  I gripped the little metal fire extinguisher and pulled it off the closet floor. My dad put a fire extinguisher in every room. Of course, I never thought I would have to use it.

  In the darkness, I turned the canister. Found the trigger. Steadied it in my hand. Ready to shoot. Ready to blast him.

  “Found it!” I shouted again.

  “Hurry!” he boomed.

  Stepping out of the closet, I swung the fire extinguisher in front of me.
Aimed the nozzle at his chest.

  Squeezed the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  He roared and jumped back, sending up a sheet of flames.

  I shook the canister. Shook it so hard, I almost dropped it.

  Then I lurched forward. Dove across the room — and squeezed the trigger again with all my might.

  A white spray shot out and hit the flames darting from his face.

  “Hey!” He uttered a startled shout.

  I kept the trigger down. I moved the spray up and down, from his face to his chest.

  His flames flickered but didn’t go out.

  He stuck out his arms. He backed up to the window.

  Breathing hard, my heart pounding, I moved forward. I kept the white spray on his face.

  I could see the angry look in his eyes. He raised a hand to shield his eyes.

  The canister made a sputtering sound. I struggled to keep the spray steady.

  The flames didn’t give up easily. They twisted and danced as if trying to squirm away from the spray.

  The extinguisher felt lighter. I knew it was almost empty.

  Suddenly, he turned away from me. He leaped to the window ledge — and then out. He flew out into the dark night. A bright fireball against the blackness.

  I let out a long, shuddering sigh.

  I couldn’t stop trembling. The fire extinguisher fell from my hand and bounced onto the carpet.

  I bent over and grabbed my knees. I struggled to catch my breath.

  I sat down on the floor with my back against the bed. No way I could get back to sleep. I just sat there till morning, staring at the open window and thinking … thinking …

  * * *

  The next morning, Mom and Dad had to leave early. We didn’t have our big discussion. Thank goodness!

  The morning was cool and gray. It had rained during the night, and the sidewalk was dotted with deep puddles.

  As I walked to school, I kept glancing behind me. I expected to see The Ooze or the fire guy pop out from behind a tree and come after me.

  Every shadow made me jump. A dog barked nearby, and I nearly fell into a puddle!

  By the time I made it to school, I was shaking.

  I found Gabriella in front of her locker. She was talking to some girls from our class, so I had to wait.

  The bell rang. Time to go into class. I followed after her.

  “Gabriella, did you get my text messages?”

  She nodded. Then she turned back and studied me. “Were they supposed to make sense?”

  “Of course!” I cried. “What do you mean? You didn’t believe me?”

  She twisted up her face. “It wasn’t a fiction story you wrote? For our Creative Writing project?”

  “No,” I said. “Why would I send you a story at two in the morning?”

  “Marco, why do you do anything?” That made her laugh. She cracks herself up.

  I didn’t think it was funny. “It was all true,” I said. “Last night —”

  Mrs. Hopper met us at the door. “Good morning, you two. Arguing again? Take your seats, okay?”

  “We weren’t arguing,” Gabriella said. “We were just talking.”

  We don’t sit together. Gabriella sits in the front row. I sit near the back.

  “I have to talk to you,” I said. “Meet me after school. Okay?”

  “Where?”

  “You know where,” I said. “Where we always meet. In the alley behind the Dairy Freeze.”

  “Do you have any money?” she asked. “Can you buy us cones?”

  “My life is in danger!” I said. “I’m not really interested in ice cream!”

  “Well, I am!” she replied, and trotted to her desk.

  * * *

  The alley behind the Dairy Freeze was lined with overflowing trash cans, old cartons, and other garbage. Workers parked their cars back there. I could see store workers in their white aprons through the tiny back window.

  Someone had left an old rusting bench on the other side of the alley. That’s where I waited after school for Gabriella.

  It was a good meeting place. No one ever came back here. You could buy an ice cream cone and sit on the bench. And the smell of the garbage wasn’t too bad at all.

  I bought a chocolate cone with chocolate sprinkles and carried it back to the bench. I expected Gabriella to show up any second. But I’d already finished the cone and was licking my fingers — and still no sign of her.

  What’s up with this? I thought. I told her it was really important. Where is she?

  I checked the time on my cell phone. Nearly four o’clock. School had been out for forty-five minutes.

  I sighed. She wasn’t going to show.

  I watched two robins pecking around in the grass in the empty lot beside the store. Then I climbed to my feet, ready to leave.

  I took a few steps around the side of the building toward the street. But I stopped when a wave of heat blasted against my face. I staggered back. I recognized the sharp, putrid smell. My skin prickled and burned.

  The Ooze lumbered into the alley, blocking my path.

  “Leave me alone!” I screamed. My voice came out high and shrill.

  His oily face was set in a hard scowl. He didn’t look friendly.

  Black lumps oozed down his forehead, over his eyes, and down the sides of his face. He kept clenching and unclenching his huge hands into fists.

  “I mean it! Leave me alone!” I cried. “I’ll call 911! Really!”

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and held it up in front of me.

  He waved his hand — and slapped it away. The phone hit the back wall of the Dairy Freeze. It broke into two pieces and dropped to the alley floor.

  “What do you want? Leave me alone!” I screamed. “I don’t have your stupid book!”

  I squinted into the back window of the Dairy Freeze. Maybe one of the workers would hear my screams and come out to help me.

  But no. I saw one girl scooping ice cream and another girl tapping on the cash register. They didn’t turn around.

  The Ooze bumped up to me. He reached out a gunky hand and rubbed it across my cheeks.

  “Owww!” I let out a howl. “That BURNS!”

  I reached up my hand. I had a thick smear of black gunk stuck to my face. I shook my head hard, trying to cool it down. It was burning hot!

  I staggered back until I hit the rear wall of the Dairy Freeze. I turned quickly. Could I make a run for the street?

  “Don’t try it,” The Ooze growled. “Why don’t you just hand it over? You know what I came for.”

  “Wh-what do you want?” I stammered. “I don’t know what it is. I told you —”

  He leaned over me. He pressed a finger against one of his nostrils — and blew out of the other nostril. Hot oily gunk came shooting out of his nose and splashed onto the back of my neck.

  “Owww. Sick!” I twisted and squirmed. I was pinned against the brick wall. No way to escape.

  My heart was racing in my chest. The back of my neck throbbed with pain.

  “D-don’t blow your nose on me! I — I told you,” I choked out. “I already told you. The book is gone. It was stolen by a man with fire all around him.”

  He stood straight up. I think that surprised him. I could see him thinking hard about it.

  Then he leaned over me again. His dark eyes locked on mine. “I don’t believe you,” he growled. “Know what I mean?”

  “I — I’m telling the truth. Why would I lie?”

  He stuck out a greasy hand. “Give it, kid. Now. Give me what I’m looking for — and maybe I’ll let you live.”

  “Huh?” A gasp escaped my throat. “What are you talking about? Tell me! Please —”

  He leaned closer. I choked on his thick tar smell. The heat off his body sent rivers of sweat down my face.

  “You want to play innocent?” he boomed. “Sorry, kid. You give me no choice. Know what I mean?”

  My mind was spinning. It was so hard t
o think. The bitter tar odor … the intense heat … the cold stare of his eyes …

  “Sorry, kid.” The skin on his face began to bubble and fizz. Oily black lumps rolled over his hands, his neck, his chest. “No more Mr. Nice Guy.”

  I could see what he was going to do. No more hot oil drips. That was baby stuff.

  I’d seen it in all the comic books. He was going to rise up ten feet high, then splash down over me in a wave of oily sludge.

  I tried to duck. Tried to dodge away.

  But he had me trapped.

  I’m going to be buried under it!

  I’m going to drown in it!

  Were those my last thoughts?

  The bubbling, sizzling Ooze swept high over my head.

  I shut my eyes. I held my breath.

  I knew I had only seconds before he came crashing down on me.

  Doomed. I was doomed.

  Unless my big idea worked. The plan I’d thought about all night …

  Destroy him before he destroyed me.

  Well, this was definitely the time to try it!

  “You don’t scare me, Ooze!”

  I shouted at the top of my lungs over the roar of the sizzling goo.

  The wave of burning tar stopped. Pulled back a little.

  “I read the Wizard of Ooze book!” I shouted. “And now I have powers, too!”

  The wave of oily gunk pulled back. The Ooze settled down to his original size and shape.

  His big bubbly chest heaved in and out. His eyes bulged wide. His ugly mouth was open, and the blue tongue slicked from side to side.

  “Powers?” he sneered. “What kind of powers do you have, punk? The power to scream like a baby?”

  “Uh … my new name is TIDAL WAVE!” I cried. I’d thought of the name the night before.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. His sharp teeth made a clicking sound as he chomped them up and down.

  “I am Master of the Water Universe!” I shouted.

  Of course, my water powers lasted for only ten seconds, I thought to myself. And I have no idea if I can even bring them back for another ten seconds.

  Maybe I can fake him out. I have to try!

  The Ooze crossed his arms in front of him. The arms made a wet, squishy sound as he pulled them against his chest.