Thrills and Chills

by R. L. Stine

  An escaped hippo?

  We all turned to Rob Slob. He had a big bag of salted penguin treats in his lap, and his cheeks were covered in dark fish flakes. He raised his hand to ask the driver a question.

  “Is the hippo’s name Rob Slob Junior?”

  The young man blinked. “No, his name is Buttercup.”

  “Oh, different hippo,” Rob said.

  Nasty Nancy pointed at Rob. “I thought you were a hippo when I first met you!” she cried.

  “People make that mistake all the time,” Rob said.

  “That’s fat-shaming, Nancy,” Windy Winston told her. “You’re not supposed to do that.”

  “And what are you?” she snapped back. “You’re just a shame!”

  “Why do we always h-have to argue?” Nervous Rex asked.

  The driver kept his eye on Rob Slob the whole time. “Have you seen a hippo anywhere?” he asked.

  Rob thought about it. “No, not really,” he said.

  Rob is a good liar. No one can read his expression because of all the snack food stuck to his face.

  The driver squinted at Rob a while longer. Then he turned to the front and slid behind the wheel.

  “Buckle up, everyone,” he shouted. “It’s going to be an exciting ride!

  Unfortunately, we didn’t know just how exciting it would turn out to be.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  The car rolled along under some tall, leafy trees. The dirt path was rough, and we bumped up and down in the narrow car.

  Wacky Jackie sat next to me on the outside. As we dipped under some dark shadows, she said, “I hope we see some kitties. I just love kitties. I could never have one because my parents were allergic.”

  “They were allergic to cats?” I said.

  Jackie shook her head. “No, they were allergic to me.”

  I squinted at her. “Did you forget? The ten of us live in a house without parents. None of us remembers how we even got there. And we don’t remember our parents.”

  “I know,” Jackie said. “I just made it up.”

  “Do you lie like that all the time?” I asked.

  “It’s not a lie,” she said. “It’s a joke. You know, like your cheers.” Then she smiled and poked me.

  “I don’t think you’ll see any cats,” I told her. “Cats don’t live in the wild.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of wildcats?” Brainy Janey chimed in from the seat behind us. “Wildcats are members of the thingamabob species, and they all live in the wild.”

  “I can’t wait to see a thingamabob!” Jackie exclaimed.

  “If you’ll look to the right, you’ll see our two lion cubs, Teddy and Freddy,” the driver announced.

  And there they were. Wrestling in a patch of tall grass.

  “What do lions eat?” Brett Sweat called to the driver.

  “Anything they want!” he replied.

  “Up ahead is the watering hole where our hippopotamus used to live,” he announced, looking back at Rob.

  Jackie and I leaned out and saw the big empty mudhole.

  “We’re pretty sure we’ll find the hippo soon,” the driver said. “It’s really hard for him to blend into a crowd.”

  I fought back the urge to shout out the truth—that the missing hippo was in our living room right this minute. But it was Rob Slob’s hippo, and it was up to him to tell the driver where he was.

  I turned and saw Rob Slob lean toward the driver. “How can we identify your hippo?” he asked.

  “Well . . . he looks like a hippo,” the driver replied. “That will probably help you narrow it down.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  “Yes, I can. He’s as big as a hippo and closely resembles a hippo.”

  “I’m starting to get it,” Rob said, nodding.

  “Why are you asking all these questions?” the driver asked.

  “No reason,” Rob said. “Because I haven’t seen your hippo, and he isn’t in our house acting as our new housekeeper.”

  “Well, if you ever see him,” the driver called, “give us a shout, okay?”

  The car turned into flat grasslands. We saw ostriches standing on a low hill. Swans were swimming in a small, oval-shaped pond. A cluster of pink flamingos stood on the side.

  “Beyond those trees, the land changes again,” the driver said. “We find ourselves on the dry plains. And over there . . . one of our treasures . . . a white rhinoceros.”

  “Whoa. Check that out!” I cried.

  And then everyone gasped in shock as Rob Slob jumped to his feet. For some reason, Rob leaped out of the car. He hit the ground hard, bounced a few times— and then took off, running toward the rhinoceros.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  The enormous rhinoceros raised its head and watched as Rob Slob came running toward it. With everyone screaming in horror, the car came to a screeching stop.

  Our driver jumped to his feet and watched wide-eyed as Rob raced toward the huge creature. “What is he doing?” he cried, clapping his hands to the side of his face. “What is he doing? He could get hurt. And I could get fired for this!”

  “I think I know,” Wacky Jackie said. “He told me he always wanted to ride a white rhinoceros.”

  “Huh?” the driver’s mouth dropped open to his knees. “He—what?!”

  Jackie nodded. “He told me it was on his bucket list. Rob said he always had this dream of riding a white rhino.”

  “But—but—” the driver stammered. “No one rides a rhinoceros!”

  “Tell that to Rob,” Jackie said.

  We all screamed again as Rob Slob ran up to the giant rhino—and leaped onto its back.

  It took a few seconds for Rob to get his balance. Then he sat up straight with his legs over the animal’s sides and raised his fists high above his head in triumph.

  Rob shouted something, but I couldn’t hear it over everyone’s screams and cries. I was so scared, I squeezed Wacky Jackie’s hand tightly. My heart was racing in my chest like a frightened rabbit.

  Rob waved his arm high, celebrating his victory. As Rob cheered himself, the rhino began to move. It took a few steps, then picked up speed.

  Then it lowered its head, and Rob began to slide forward.

  The rhino lowered its head a little more. And then it flipped Rob into the air.

  Rob’s mouth opened wide and he screamed as he came down hard—on the rhino’s horn.

  Our screams were so loud, I covered my ears and shut my eyes tight.

  This can’t be happening, I told myself. This is supposed to be an amusement park. But this wasn’t amusing at all!

  When I opened my eyes, Rob Slob was back in the car, grinning. “That was awesome!” he exclaimed.

  Adam Bomb grabbed him by the shoulder. “Rob, you just landed on a rhinoceros horn,” he said. “How can you be okay?”

  “It’s the salt,” Rob explained, pulling up his shirt. “See? I have a hard, two-inch layer of salt on my chest. It’s from the tortilla chips I eat. There’s no way that rhino horn could get through my layer of salt.”

  “Wow, it pays to be a slob,” I said.

  “Maybe if we all ate like Rob, we could become superheroes,” Wacky Jackie said. “Or safari daredevils.”

  “Ten points for Rob Slob,” Mrs. Hooping-Koff announced.

  Patty Perfect fainted, but only after her brother Peter—and our driver—also passed out!

  THIRTY-SIX

  As I was saying in Chapter Thirty, why do people think I talk too much? I’m Windy Winston, and I would like to continue the story.

  I love continuing stories. Because if you don’t continue them, you can’t get to the end. You know what I mean?

  Let’s say you start a story. And you are really interested in hearing how the story ends. But the person telling the story just yaks and yaks and yaks, and goes off on one tangent after another. But all you want to do is find out the ending of the story.

  But you can’t even find out what happens next because he keeps talkin
g. And talking.

  I hate when that happens, don’t you?

  Here’s my question: Is it more fun to tell a story or to listen to a story?

  I don’t really know the answer to that one.

  The one thing I did know was that those two Perfect twins were winning the contest. We were all having a good time at Six Thrills. But they were having the best time. And that teacher, Mrs. Hoof-and-Mouth-Disease (I think that’s her name), was awarding them all the points.

  Then that kid Rob Slob jumped on top of a rhinoceros, and he scored points for that.

  I said to my friend Disgustin’ Justin, “Maybe we should jump on top of something dangerous. Then we could score points, too.”

  “Worth a try,” Justin replied.

  But none of my other friends agreed with us, so we didn’t try it.

  “One time, I jumped off a kangaroo,” Nat Nerd told me.

  I stared at him. “You did? How could you do that?”

  “Well . . . it was in a dream,” he said. “But it seemed very real.”

  We followed the other kids to our next activity, where a big red sign over the entrance read:

  BALLS OF DOOM

  We stepped into the arena—a large circle filled with enormous rubber balls that were all different colors.

  As I walked closer, I saw that the balls had handles. Kids sat on the balls and gripped the handles with both hands, then bounced all over the arena floor.

  They bounced high, and bounced into one another, bouncing in all directions. It looked like a lot of fun, especially if you like bouncing.

  “Let’s see who will win points for having the best time bouncing,” said Mrs. Hoop-De-Doo, or whatever her name was.

  “Peter and I will definitely win this one!” Patty Perfect exclaimed. “We are great at bouncing. It’s one of our hobbies.”

  “We bounce all the time,” Peter added. “Sometimes we bounce for hours at home. We’re perfect bouncers.”

  “Your friend Junkfood John can bounce without a ball!” Nasty Nancy said.

  Babbling Brooke stepped up to her. “Hey, that’s fat-shaming!” she scolded. “Don’t make fun of John because he’s obese!”

  “What else should we make fun of him about?” Nancy snapped back.

  Junkfood John held up a large bag. “Would anyone like to share these Guppy Crisps? They’re fishy and crunchy.”

  “Sure,” Disgustin’ Justin said, grabbing a handful from the bag and shoving them into his mouth. He chewed for a few seconds, then his eyes bulged and he spat the whole mouthful all over the ground.

  “You have to watch out for the guppy eyeballs,” Junkfood John warned. But it was too late.

  “Okay, everyone,” the teacher announced. “Jump on a ball and let’s see some great bouncing.”

  So we all ran into the arena and climbed onto the Balls of Doom and started to bounce.

  And that’s when something seriously strange happened.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Junkfood John here. I’ll continue the story because Windy Winston talks too much and we may never get to the end of the story. When he starts talking, I want to tear my ears off and stuff them in my pockets.

  But that might hurt.

  I’ve never seen a guy talk so much. He was even talking to himself as he bounced across the floor on a big yellow ball.

  I hoisted myself onto a purple ball and grabbed the handle with one hand. It’s hard to bounce and hold a bag of Guppy Crisps at the same time. I slipped off the ball twice and nearly lost some of my guppy treats.

  I also had a bag of nacho cheese gummy worms in my back pocket. That was my mid-mid-mid-morning snack. I had to be careful, because I didn’t want to crush the bag as I bounced.

  I leaned forward and started to bounce higher.

  “WHOOOOAAH!” I bounced right into Cranky Frankie and sent him bouncing against the wall. He shouted something, and I was glad I couldn’t hear what he said.

  Then someone bounced from behind and sent me sailing over the floor.

  This was fun. We were all screaming and laughing . . . bouncing high . . . crashing into one another. Then I glimpsed the Perfect twins. They were sitting on matching pink balls and bouncing in unison, side by side.

  Wacky Jackie then bounced into Brett Sweat, and they both bumped into Nat Nerd, who bumped into Handy Sandy, and they all bounced against the arena wall.

  And then something weird happened. I don’t want to believe it, but I saw it with my own eyes. So I have to believe it.

  Wacky Jackie scrunched down on her green ball and then shot her legs up hard.

  Her ball lifted off the floor and she zoomed like a rocket, straight at the ceiling.

  Jackie bounced higher than anyone else.

  And then—she disappeared.

  I watched her. I’m not joking. She just . . . vanished.

  I dragged my shoes on the floor to stop bouncing. A few other kids stopped bouncing, too, and climbed off their balls. And soon we were all standing there, confused.

  Mrs. Hooping-Koff gazed all around and asked, “Where is Wacky Jackie? Where did she go?”

  No one could answer.

  But finally, Brainy Janey stepped forward. “I know where Jackie went,” she said.

  We all turned to listen to her. The only sound was me crunching Guppy Crisps as I finished the bag.

  “I know where Jackie went,” Brainy Janey repeated. “She bounced so high, she bounced into the next book.”

  “Huh?” I gasped. “Wha—?”

  “Jackie bounced into the next book in this series,” Janey explained. “She bounced into Garbage Pail Kids: Book Three, Camp Daze. I’m afraid you won’t see Jackie again until you read that book.”

  “Well, that explains it,” Mrs. Hooping-Koff said. “If Jackie was still here, I’d award her ten points. So I guess I’ll just give minus-ten to everyone else. Does that make sense?”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Wacky Jackie here.

  I’m in the next book in this series, and I don’t see anyone else.

  I seem to be the only one in this place.

  I’m so confused—I’m on a mostly blank page.

  How long will I have to wait for the others to catch up?

  I finally get a chance to tell part of our story, and this is what R.L. Stine does to me?

  THIRTY-NINE

  Nervous Rex here again. I guess I’ll tell you what happened next.

  After Wacky Jackie disappeared, most of us kids went on a roller coaster called the Haircut.

  I stayed back because roller coasters make me nervous. Anything that moves fast makes me nervous. I mean, why does a roller coaster have to be fast, anyway?

  I asked Adam Bomb, “Why is this one called the Haircut?”

  He said, “Because it goes so fast, it has 5G wind force, and it blows off all your hair. But they give you these hair caps, which will protect your head.”

  “Th-that sounds like fun,” I replied. Of course, I was being sarcastic. I wouldn’t go anywhere near that coaster. Besides, look at me: I don't really need a haircut.

  And haircuts always make me nervous, too. I mean, what if they miss with the scissors and cut off an ear? Do you still have to pay if that happens?

  Luke Puke didn’t go on the coaster, either. He said 5G wind forces always make him puke. He said 4G is one thing, but 5G was just too much.

  Junkfood John found a food booth that sold frog knuckles on a stick. That’s his favorite before-lunch snack, so he also stayed off the coaster and enjoyed his frog knuckles.

  “We have a 5G wind force room at home,” Peter Perfect bragged. “Patty and I use it to blow dry our hair in the morning.”

  “5G’s good for our skin, too,” Patty said. “That’s why we always have a perfect, rosy glow.”

  “We are going to have the best time on this roller coaster,” Peter added.

  I watched as everyone hurried into the line for the Haircut. Then I waited by the exit for them to come out. I could
hear the coaster cars rumbling and roaring and squealing with incredible speed. And I could hear a lot of people screaming their heads off.

  All that screaming made me nervous. Doesn’t it make you nervous, too, when you hear a lot of people screaming in terror?

  I hugged myself tightly as I stood by the exit and waited for everyone to come out. After about ten minutes, my friends and the others came staggering out. They were shaking their heads and laughing. But it wasn’t ha-ha laughter. It was the kind of laughter that says, Wow, I’m so happy to still be alive.

  They were all sucking in big mouthfuls of air and mopping sweat off their foreheads. “That was awesome!” Peter Perfect cried. But his voice was tiny and shaky when he said it.

  The kids all remembered to wear their hair caps, so they looked okay. But it took me a while to recognize Mrs. Hooping-Koff—because she was totally bald!

  Her head looked like a shiny pink egg.

  She staggered closer, and I realized that her eyes were no longer on the front of her head. They had been blown to the back!

  It took us a while to help her tug them into place. Then her whole body shuddered and shook, like a dog after a bath. She reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a hairbrush.

  I don’t think she knew she was bald! But no one was brave enough to tell her. Not even Principal Grunt.

  “Okay, people,” she shouted. “I think we are done. That ends our day at Six Thrills. I hope you all had a wonderful time!”

  “Who won the contest?” Patty Perfect asked. “Tell us—who won?”

  “Well . . . let me see,” our teacher replied. She started to dig in her pocketbook. “I have the list right here. The winner is . . .”

  FORTY

  Mrs. Hooping-Koff looked around in her pocketbook. It made me nervous to watch her. I hate it when people paw around in their bags. What if there’s something in there and it bites you?

  Do you ever think of that?

  Well, I do.

  I guess that’s why they call me Nervous Rex.

  Our teacher was looking for her notepad where she kept the score, but she couldn’t find it.