Thrills and Chills

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Thrills and Chills Page 10

by R. L. Stine


  “Hmmmm,” she muttered, opening her purse wide and searching frantically.

  “Who won?” Nat Nerd cried. “Can we say it was a tie just so we can all stop fighting?”

  “Who won?” Brainy Janey asked. “Was it close? I can help you do the math. I’m good with numbers.”

  Miss Hooping-Koff sighed and lowered her pocketbook to the ground. “Wouldn’t you know it?” she murmured. “I lost my notepad.”

  Everyone gasped.

  Our teacher wrinkled up her bald head. “I think the 5G blew it away.”

  “So . . . we don’t have a winner?” Nasty Nancy demanded.

  Mrs. Hooping-Koff nodded. “Oh, sure we do. The Perfect twins win. You know . . . they always win.”

  “YAAAAAAY!” Patty and Peter Perfect jumped up and down and high fived, celebrating their victory.

  “What do we win?” Patty asked breathlessly when she and her brother finally settled down.

  “Yes. What is our prize, teacher?” Peter Perfect asked.

  Mrs. Hooping-Koff smiled at them. “The prize is a ride home in my car. I'm afraid the bus left an hour ago. The rest of you will just have to walk.”

  FORTY-ONE

  “Walk home?” I don’t believe it!” Adam Bomb cried.

  And just like that he exploded all over everyone. So not only did we have to walk home, but we had to carry his pieces home with us, too.

  It was a long walk back to Smellville, so I could understand why Adam took the news so hard. It always makes me nervous when he explodes and goes flying everywhere.

  But he always pulls himself back together eventually.

  We all agreed we had an awesome time at the Six Thrills Amusement Park. But it wasn’t worth the walk home.

  We headed out in single file along the highway with the five newcomers—the kids who also claim to be the Garbage Pail Kids. Brett Sweat had to stop and mop his forehead every few minutes. Windy Winston kept talking—to himself. Disgustin’ Justin practiced lonnnng, loud burps as he walked. Nat Nerd kept reminding him to mind his manners. And Nasty Nancy kept making nasty comments about all of us the whole way home.

  But everything went okay until we reached Smellville.

  The other kids said they live in Smellville North, and we live in Smellville South. So we had to split up and say goodbye.

  “Maybe we can have a playdate sometime,” Windy Winston said. “You could come visit us and see how the real Garbage Pail Kids live!”

  “We’re the real Garbage Pail Kids!” Cranky Frankie shouted.

  “No—we are!”

  “No way—we are!”

  And before you knew it, we were all punching one another and scratching and elbowing and kneeing and wrestling in the dirt on the side of the road. It was a horrible fight, and it didn’t end until Nat Nerd shouted: “Manners, everyone! Manners!”

  And with that, we all turned and stomped away in our separate directions.

  I couldn’t wait to get home.

  “I just want to hang out in the living room and chill,” Handy Sandy said.

  “I’m going to sink into the couch, eat some chips, and binge as many episodes of Jonny Pantsfalldown as I can,” Junkfood John said.

  Rob Slob agreed. “That sounds like heaven.”

  It was night when our house came into view. It’s not a great house, but it was ours. Home sweet home.

  Only it wasn’t.

  When we stepped into the front door—we let out cries of horror.

  Rob Slob Junior stood with a couch leg poking out of his mouth. The room was clean. And bare. Very bare.

  Our housekeeper ate the living room.

  We stood there gaping in silence. No one said a word.

  Finally, Rob Slob spoke up. “Think we should return him? Or should we give him a second chance?”

  R.L. STINE has more than 400 million English-language books in print, plus international editions in thirty-two languages, making him one of the most popular children’s authors of all time. Besides Goosebumps, he has written series including Fear Street, Rotten School, Mostly Ghostly, the Nightmare Room, Dangerous Girls, and Just Beyond. Stine lives in New York City with his wife, Jane, an editor and publisher.

  JEFF ZAPATA has worked on comic books and trading cards for more than twenty-five years, including thirteen gross, memorable ones as an editor, art director, and artist on Garbage Pail Kids and other brands at the Topps Company.

  FRED WHEATON has been wallowing in the Garbage Pail at Topps since 2006, contributing disgusting concepts, final art, comics, and sketch cards. He lives in Washington, DC, with his wife and their three kids.

  JOE SIMKO is an artist known for his happy-horror style. He is one of the premiere Garbage Pail Kids illustrators for the Topps Company and lives in New York City with his wife, son, dog, and many, many boxes of cereal.

  THE TOPPS COMPANY, INC., originator of Garbage Pail Kids, Mars Attacks, and Bazooka Joe brands, was founded in 1938 and is the preeminent creator and marketer of physical and digital trading cards, entertainment products, and distinctive confectionery.

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