Creeper's Got Talent

by Greyson Mann

  The only problem is, you can’t just go up to Eddy and start talking. You kind of have to wait for an invitation—or be brave enough to look him in the eye.

  When I first started here at Mob Middle School, Cate warned me to NEVER look an Enderman in the eye. “I mean, like, EVER,” she said. “I’m serious.”

  But if there’s anything I’ve learned since then, it’s that my big sister doesn’t know everything.

  Because one day, I DID look Eddy in the eye. And nothing bad happened. In fact, I learned some things about Eddy. I learned that his real name is Louis. And that he really, really doesn’t like rain.

  I know, those things aren’t going to win me a prize or anything. But I might have a shot at getting some advice from Louis Edward Enderman if I play my cards right.

  So I finally caught his eye in the cafeteria last night. I stared right at him and tried to send a secret message. “Help! I need some of your coolness! RIGHT NOW!”

  No one saw me doing it. Sam was too busy staring dreamily into Willow’s eyes over a bowl of mushroom stew. And Ziggy was under the table.

  When I bent down to see what he was doing, I saw him pick up a hunk of rotten flesh dog that had fallen out of the bun. He actually scraped it off the floor and popped it back into his mouth. So I was pretty much done eating after that. The perfect time to talk to Eddy.

  When Eddy saw me looking his way, he did what Endermen do. He teleported. Right to my table.

  And every head in that cafeteria suddenly whipped around to look at me.

  What was Eddy Enderman doing talking to a sixth grader? That’s what they wanted to know. I could almost hear their brains buzzing, trying to figure it out.

  Eddy just ignored them. He said something like, “What’s up, Gerald?” He’s pretty much the only one here at school who doesn’t call me Itchy, which I appreciate.

  I didn’t really want to talk to him in front of Sam and Ziggy. He must have figured that out, because when I got up and started walking toward the vending machine, he came with me. He’s got these long legs, so I had to take like eight steps for every one of his.

  While I sprint-walked to keep up with him, I said, “Nothing’s up. I mean, you know, nothing much. Just this talent show thing that’s got me kind of freaked out. It’s just stage fright. No big deal.”

  Well, he knew it WAS a big deal. You don’t look an Enderman in the eye if it’s not.

  So he said, “You have to practice, that’s all. Find an audience. Practice until you’re not so freaked out. Be cool, dude.” And then he was gone. I seriously don’t even know where he went.

  But I thought about what he’d said. An audience? Where could I find one of those?

  I pictured Cammy and her creeper dolls.

  I had the PERFECT audience right at home. So when Mom said maybe I should ask my sister to help me with my act, I guess she was right.

  I’m going to rehearse ALL weekend. And my Exploding Baby sister (who happens to love my rap music) is going to help me.

  DAY 20: SUNDAY

  Well, I didn’t exactly practice ALL weekend. But I saw my chance tonight. I asked Mom if she wanted to do some of her Zombie Zumba. I figured that would get me out of our before-dinner run, especially if I offered to babysit Cammy.

  Mom seemed kind of touched by my offer. I think I scored some big points, actually.

  Then I helped Cammy set up all her creeper dolls on her bed. Some of them were missing legs from the last time we played together. So I tried to fix them up. It was kind of fun, actually, figuring out which legs went with which little creeper.

  If anyone at school saw me with those dolls, I’d die of embarrassment.

  I’d have to build a portal to the Nether and never come back. But a creeper has to do what a creeper has to do. And right now, I have a rap song to practice.

  It turns out that my rap goes really well with Zombie Zumba music. Mom had the volume cranked way up, and at first I thought it was going to mess with my act. But when I started rapping, I could do it right along with the music. And Cammy thought that was pretty great.

  TOO great, in fact. She laughed. She danced. She made her dolls dance. And then she EXPLODED with happiness.

  Did you know baby creepers could do that? Well, I’m here to tell you—they can.

  Good thing I have another copy of my rap lyrics, because the one I was reading in Cammy’s room was pretty much blown to bits.

  But as shredded paper and gunpowder floated down around me, I got an idea—a pretty great idea. FIREWORKS.

  I used to make them with my old buddy, Cash Creeper.

  If I could make some more, I could use them at the end of my talent show act. It would bring the house down! (Well, not like Cammy did with her explosion, but the mobs in the audience would be cheering like CRAZY.)

  So I ran out to the garage to find some gunpowder. We keep it in a big trash bin for emergencies, like this one. But when I pushed open the garage door, I could barely fit inside!

  Chloe’s cannon thing is HUGE. I couldn’t even find Dad. When I called for him, he answered, but his voice sounded really far away. Was he INSIDE the thing?

  Chloe asked me what I was doing out there, like I was spying on her or something. Like she owns the garage, and I was trespassing.

  I told her I was looking for gunpowder, because I was going to use it for my act. And it was going to be really great. But when I said that last part, I didn’t even believe it myself. What’s so great about fireworks when your sister has a ginormous CANNON?

  Then Chloe informed me that there was no more gunpowder. That’s right, she used it ALL for her cannon.

  When she saw how mad I was, she said in a snotty voice, “I asked if you wanted to help with the cannon, but you said no.”

  Then she shrugged and went right back to whatever she was doing. When did my Evil Twin learn how to build a cannon, anyway?

  I blame Dad. I think it should be illegal for grown-ups to help with middle school projects. Some parents get way too carried away. If she won, he’d probably be right there onstage with her, kissing that trophy like a big, creepy kid.

  As I left the garage with no gunpowder, I felt like a creeper who had ZERO chance of winning the talent show.

  How do you compete with a slime bouncing on a giant green trampoline? A witch walking through fire? A skeleton with a wicked talent for drums? And your own sister getting shot out of a cannon? I mean, SERIOUSLY?

  I’m just a rapper with no props. No potions. No fireworks. And let’s face it. The only audience that’s ever going to love my act is my baby sister and her dumb baby dolls.

  So the only question I have left now is … why even bother?

  DAY 22: TUESDAY

  Why bother? Let me tell you why. Because Mr. Zane said at school last night that there would be a very important guest at the talent show.

  Well, THAT changes everything.

  I’m losing my mind, trying to figure out who it could be. A talent scout? A reporter from the Creeper Chronicle? A famous rapper? Maybe even (gasp) Kid Z himself??? This really could be my lucky break!

  So there’s no quitting. I’ve just gotta find a way to make my act bigger. Better. The BEST.

  But I can tell that everyone else feels the same way. Bones has been up to his old tricks lately, getting up in everyone’s face. Sam is acting crabby again, and it’s got nothing to do with caffeine. I think he and Willow even had a fight the other day, but it sure didn’t last long. (Too bad.)

  And at home? Chloe and I aren’t even speaking. She’s acting more and more like the Evil Twin I know and don’t love.

  But I can’t worry about other mobs and their moods right now. It’s GO time.

  I have to pull out all the stops. Turn over every rock. Put every plan in motion, from A to Z. I MIGHT even have to …

  … ask Ziggy to be my backup musician.

  I know. It’s risky business.

  But did I mention there’s a lot riding on this talent show now?
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  So it’s Ziggy Zombie’s lucky day. I’ll ask him tonight at school so we can start rehearsing TOMORROW.

  DAY 23: WEDNESDAY

  So I chased down Ziggy first thing last night and told him I was about to offer him the chance of a lifetime.

  I said that when Kid Z showed up at Mob Middle School and discovered Itchy, a breakout new rapper, ZIGGY would be the zombie onstage behind him. Itchy’s sidekick. His right-hand man.

  And do you know what that zombie said?

  He said NO.

  Say WHAT?

  He said he wouldn’t even BE at the talent show because he’d be getting ready for something called “Halloween.”

  Ziggy went on and on about it. He said all the villagers walk around outside on October 31. They dress up in different skins and go from door to door, filling up bags with food. And Ziggy and the other zombies stagger around outside, too, moaning and groaning and trying to scare the villagers. It’s a zombie thing, he said.

  Whatever. I’d heard enough.

  I couldn’t believe I’d just gotten rejected by Ziggy Zombie. I’m pretty sure that was an all-time low for me.

  As if that weren’t bad enough, he started in on me again about sprinting class. “Looks like your knee bone is better now,” he pointed out.

  I guess in all my excitement about the talent show, I’ve been forgetting to limp.

  Well, I told Ziggy my knee bone was definitely NOT better. I even showed him by contorting my body in different ways. “It hurts when I do this,” I said. “And this. Oh, and this.” I felt like Mom doing her crazy yoga poses, but I had a point to make.

  Mr. Zane poked his head out of a classroom and scolded me. “No inappropriate dancing in the hallway, Gerald,” he said.

  SERIOUSLY? What’s WITH this guy?

  I wanted to say, “You know what I think is inappropriate, Mr. Zane? A ZOMBIE in charge of a talent show on October 31. Shouldn’t you be out scaring villagers or something?”

  But I didn’t say it. Because, well, you know. That would have been inappropriate.

  So instead, I stormed off down the hall, making sure to limp this time. My knee bone was definitely acting up again.

  So take that, Ziggy Zombie, and your dumb Halloween. I guess I’m just going to have to win this talent show all on my own.

  DAY 24: THURSDAY

  In music class last night, I didn’t even want to look at Mr. Zane. I was still mad at him about the “inappropriate dancing” comment. Doesn’t a guy recognize a knee bone injury when he sees one?

  Anyway, when he said he had news about the talent show, I had to look up. Because I didn’t want to miss a word of it.

  Mr. Zane said there’s something called a “dress rehearsal” on Monday.

  That means we can test out our acts onstage, with music and costumes and everything. So he wants us to bring our music on a flash drive by Monday.

  MUSIC?

  My skin started itching just thinking about it, because I STILL don’t have any music lined up for my act.

  But when I got home this morning, Mom was doing her Zombie Zumba. And then I remembered how her Zumba music went perfectly with my rap.

  That’s when I had one of my genius ideas. (They’ve been showing up a lot these days.) I decided that when Mom was done working out, I’d ask her if she could send me the Zombie Zumba playlist. Then I could pretty much check music off my to-do list.

  The next thing I had to figure out was a costume. And I knew someone who could help me knock that one off my list, too.

  Cate, the Fashion Queen.

  I tapped on her door, thinking she wasn’t home. But when I stepped into the room, I heard her snoring. She was in bed ALREADY?

  I don’t get teenagers. They go to bed late and sleep in. Or they go to bed early and then get up in the middle of the day. I stopped trying to figure out Cate a long time ago.

  Luckily, she sleeps like a log.

  So I tiptoed past her into her walk-in closet. I closed the door and pulled the string to turn on the light. Then I took it all in—all the clothes and the makeup and the wigs.

  She even has a mirror in that closet so she can try things on.

  Well, I found all KINDS of cool things for my costume, including some chains and a bandanna. I even tried out some of her makeup, which got really messy really fast. Unfortunately, that was right about the time the closet door was flung open.

  “What are you DOING in here?” she screamed at me.

  It took a while to calm her down. But after I explained what I needed for the talent show, Cate saw her golden opportunity.

  See, I don’t tell many mobs about this, but Cate used to dress Chloe and me up when I was little. In dresses. Tutus. Feather boas. Wigs. You name it. Even makeup.

  I wasn’t always loving it then. But NOW? I couldn’t think of a better time to let my sister dress me up. If there’s one thing Cate knows about, it’s fashion.

  Now I can check “costume” off my to-do list. And I can tell Mom that I asked ANOTHER sister to help me with my act. Two out of three ain’t bad!

  DAY 26: SATURDAY

  WHOA, what a night.

  When I got home from school, I was feeling pretty good about the talent show. I think Chloe was, too. She had this gleam in her eye. Dad, on the other hand, had dark circles under HIS eyes. I think he’s been working on that cannon night and day.

  Right after dinner, I decided to sneak a peek at the cannon. Dad was already back out there working on it. But Chloe was helping Mom with the dishes, so this was my big opportunity.

  But when I got outside, I heard a familiar laugh. A very ANNOYING tinkly-bone kind of laugh. And there was BONES, standing between me and the garage.

  I couldn’t figure out what he was doing there. Selling Golem Scout cookies?

  “Hey, Itchy,” he said to me. “What’s itchin’?” Then he told me some story about how his cat had run away, and he thought he heard it meowing in our garage.

  Well, I would KNOW if a cat were in our garage. I hate cats more than I hate just about anything—except maybe Bones. I can hear a meow from a mile away.

  In fact, every time the neighbor’s cat, Sir Coughs-a-Lot, hacks up a hairball, I hear that, too. I LISTEN for it. Why? Because I like to know where my enemies are at all times.

  And right now, my biggest enemy in the Overworld was trying to get into our garage.

  I had a pretty good idea why, too. He wanted to see Chloe’s cannon. The thing was legendary. People were whispering about it at school. So I think Bones was worried about losing the talent show to her, just like I was.

  Chloe must have had a feeling something was up. She came running out of the house and told Bones that he was not stepping one bony FOOT in our garage.

  “Why not, Itchy Witchy?” he asked. He hasn’t called her that in a long time, but it fired her right up.

  See, Bones knows that Chloe has a short fuse. He can get to her WAY more easily than he gets to me. And he likes to see her blow up.

  Usually he does it just for fun. But I had a feeling he had a bigger plan this time. He didn’t come all the way out here just to watch a sixth grader blow her top.

  “Are you afraid I’ll see your cute little creeper cannon?” said Bones. “Aw, I’ll bet it hisses just like you, Itchy Witchy.”

  Sure enough, Chloe started hissing. You’d think a girl who took strategic explosions class would be able to control herself. You’d think she’d know better than to blow up next to the garage. Especially a garage full of gunpowder. And a CANNON.

  When I realized what was going to happen, I hollered at Chloe to cool it. But I was too late. I might as well have been trying to control Cammy, the Exploding Baby.

  BOOM!

  Chloe blew first.

  BOOM!!

  The cannon blew, knocking me to the ground.

  BOOM!!!

  A cannonball shot through the hole in the roof.

  Except it WASN’T a cannonball. It was green. And tall. And terrif
ied. It was Dad!

  I jumped up and ran after him, as if I could catch him or something. Where’s my bouncy friend SAM-poline when I need him?

  Luckily, Dad had landed in the apple tree. Upside down. But it looked like he was all in one piece.

  By the time I helped him out and we made it back to the garage—or what was left of the garage—Bones was gone.

  And the cannon was gone, too. Blown to smithereens. One of the wheels was spinning around and around in the yard.

  Chloe just stood there, staring at where the cannon used to be. She looked so mad, I was afraid she was going to blow up again. Then she started hollering at ME, as it if was all MY fault!

  “Why didn’t you stand up for me?” she hollered. “You probably WANTED Bones to do that. You’re probably HAPPY now because you think you’re going to win!”

  WHAT?

  Okay, maybe I had one selfish thought when I saw all those fresh piles of gunpowder.

  But that doesn’t mean I’m HAPPY that Chloe’s cannon got blown up. I actually felt sorry for her, until she turned back into my Evil Twin.

  That’s when I decided I wasn’t going to stand in the driveway and take that kind of abuse. I still had an act to prepare for, even if she didn’t.

  So I snuck out of cleanup duty and back into my room.

  This creeper has to stay focused and keep his eye on the prize. My future as a rapper DEPENDS on it.

  DAY 27: SUNDAY

  When I woke up this afternoon, I got smart.