by Kirk Scroggs
“That beast terrorized my livestock!” yelled Earl Huggins, local farmer.
“Then he went tinky on my prizewinning rose bushes!” yelled Marjorie Millner, local old person.
“Then he sang the worst version of ‘Living La Vida Loca’ I've ever heard!” screamed Earl Basuki, owner of the One Night in Sing Sing karaoke bar.
“Give us the old man!” shouted the mob.
Luckily, the full moon had gone back behind the clouds and Grampa had changed back to his normal bony self.
“Howdy!” said Grampa. “Boy! If I'd known everyone was coming over I would have put on some fancy cologne!”
“Look!” I said. “It's just plain ol’ Grampa!”
The Ladies’ Quilting League burst in and they were ready for action. “Come on, girls!” shouted Cleta. “Let's put this were-yote out of its misery! Lock and load!”
“Nooooooo!” shouted Gramma. “You can't shoot my beloved husband with honey-mustard spikes! Not over my new carpet!”
“There is one other option besides shooting your Grampa with spikes,” said Fern Thigwell, “though it won't be as fun. There is one man in town from Carpathian County. He knows how to break the curse. Unfortunately, he is locked away in a maximum security facility.”
I suddenly got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew exactly who she was talking about.
CHAPTER 12
Silence of the Hans
The next morning, Grampa and I went to the Gingham County Institute for Criminal Masterminds and Their Grandchildren to confront an old acquaintance.
“Vell, vell, vell!” said Hans Lotion, sitting next to his grandson, Jurgen. “Vhat brings you to my little maximum security bachelor pad?”
Hans and Jurgen had been locked away for fishnapping, assault with a deadly bass, and forty-two unpaid parking tickets.
I explained the situation to Hans and pleaded with him to tell us how to break the curse.
“I vill tell you if you promise me von zing,” Hans said.
“I knew it!” said Grampa. “You won't tell us unless we help you escape this place! Shame on you!”
“Actually,” said Hans, “I vanted you to bring me some extra spicy buffalo vings. Ze food in zis joint is ze pits!”
So, as Hans pigged out on hot wings, he told us how to lift the curse. “Your soccer team must defeat ze Carpathian Coyotes by ze stroke of midnight during ze next full moon. If you fail to do so, your beloved Grampapa vill be forever in ze doghouse!”
CHAPTER 13
You Gotta Be Kidding!
“Defeat the Carpathian Coyotes by the stroke of midnight?!!” yelled Coach Haunch, flabbergasted. “Boys, I don't mean to sound negative, but we couldn't beat a team of blind, one-legged chimpanzees … and believe me, we've tried!”
But I wouldn't take no for an answer. “Isn't there anything that will make you change your mind, Coach?”
“Well,” he muttered, “there is one thing …”
So, as Coach Haunch pigged out on hot wings, he made an important announcement in an emergency press conference: “We, the Gingham County Cracklins, will attempt to defeat the Carpathian Coyotes by the stroke of midnight tonight in the hopes of saving this beloved, respected, and kindly old man.
“And if that doesn't work, the old ladies get to shoot him with spikes!”
CHAPTER 14
Fun with Mucus
Later I stopped by the vet to see if Nate had the test results. “Boy, do I!” Nate said. “I've managed to locate the coyote cells in this sample of your Grampa's saliva.”
Sure enough, I could see the coyote cells invading Grampa's molecular makeup.
“You ain't seen nuthin’ yet!” said Nate. “Just this morning I used one drop of your Grampa's saliva on my lab rat, Felipe. With a little artificial moonlight, Felipe transformed into this pint-sized were-yote! It's quite remarkable. I can't wait to try it on my mother in-law!”
Nate's dangerous experiments gave me an idea. “Nate, I'm gonna need two gallons of that coyote slobber, one hypodermic needle, and a dozen jelly donuts!”
CHAPTER 15
The Maim Event
Game night in Carpathian County! The stands were packed with rabid soccer fans. Blue Norther even showed up in his Whopper Doppler Chopper.
Before the game, I gathered my teammates. “I'd like to start the game off with a new tradition. These are ‘good luck’ jelly donuts. Help yourselves!”
Everyone eagerly grabbed a donut.
“Wiley!” shouted Coach Haunch. “Now's not the time to be eating junk food! Besides, we just had corn dogs and milk shakes!”
CHAPTER 16
Rebooted
Just like before, the game got off to a disastrous start. We were being mercilessly mowed down by those humongous hooligans!
The Coyotes had already scored two points just ten minutes in.
“It's okay, Wiley!” yelled Grampa from the stands. “It doesn't matter if you win or lose… except that, if you lose, these old dames will slowly torture me and turn me into a human pincushion!”
CHAPTER 17
Wiley Coyote
Suddenly, the full moon burst out of the clouds! A tingly sensation crept up my body. At first, I thought I'd stepped in an ant mound. …
But then I realized that I was transforming into a junior league were-yote! The whole team sprouted hair, fangs, claws, and some serious dog breath. The crowd gasped.
Gramma and the Ladies’ Quilting League were shocked at the sudden were-yote explosion.
“A whole soccer team of were-yotes!” shouted Cleta. “I sure hope we brought enough honey-mustard garlic spikes!”
“All right, I admit it!” I said. “I injected those jelly donuts with my Grampa's coyote mucus to turn us all into were-yotes! The only way we can beat these brutes is to fight monsters with monsters! If we don't beat them by midnight, we're all cursed for life!”
“Wow!” said Jubal. “Who knew coyote mucus could be so delicious?”
After the transformation, the game was a different story. We may have been smaller than the other guys, but we were fast and our teeth were sharp!
While we gnawed at the ankles of the enemy, Chucky Frewer scored our first goal of the evening … actually, it was the team's first goal in twenty years!
CHAPTER 18
Meet the Berserkers
Coach Cretorious was none too happy about our team's transformation.
“You're not the only ones with a secret weapon!” said Cretorious, approaching a giant metal cage. “Bring out the Berserkers!”
The Berserkers were the most gigantic, hideous, frightening nine-year-olds I'd ever seen. What was worse, we could see right up their nostrils.
“Jubal,” I said, “there's no hope for us. We're gonna get squashed like bugs!”
Suddenly, Grampa jumped out on the field, armed with toilet paper.
“Go for it, Wiley!” he snarled. “I'll take care of these turkeys!”
Grampa used the old toilet-paper-around-the ankles trick to trip up one of the Berserkers.
Then Merle cartwheeled in and used another Berserker's leg as a scratching post!
While Merle and Grampa distracted the Berserkers, I made a dash for the goal and nailed the shot. It was good!
“Goooooaaaaalll!” I howled. The game was all tied up!
“No fair!” whined Coach Cretorious. “This crusty, bony, hairy dog is too old to be on the field!”
“Hey!” said Grampa. “Don't hate the playa. Hate the game!”
“Boys!” yelled Gramma from the stands. “It's almost midnight! You better hurry up or you'll be were-yotes for life! Besides, I've gotta get up early tomorrow!”
That's when something terrible happened. One of the Berserkers picked up the game ball and ate it like a cheese puff!
“Oh, what a pity!” said Coach Cretorious. “That was the last of the soccer balls and now it's gone and you only have thirty seconds until midnight! Hee, hee!”
“Well,
this is it, Wiley!” said Grampa, gloomily. “I guess those old women are going to get to turn us into Swiss cheese after all.”
CHAPTER 19
A Hair-Raising Development
“It's not over yet!” shouted Gramma as she stood up. Her anger meter was in the red zone. She reached up and started to fiddle with her hair.
Gramma then disconnected her bun and lifted it above her head! “I have to warn you creeps,” she said.
“I'm having a bad hair day!” she bellowed as she tossed me her big bun.
I took her hair and ran with it. The goal was mine. Nothing stood between me and victory now!
Actually, something horrible stood between me and victory. Curly the Coyote was the new goalie! The little beast that started this whole mess was back, looking as happy and whacko as ever!
“Move it, short stuff!” yelled Grampa as he flew in to attack Curly. “I'll show you my Peruvian Pile driver move!”
While Grampa put the smackdown on Curly, I went for the shot.
With only seconds left, I gave that bun a swift kick.
It bounced off of Jubal's belly …
and went straight past the wrestling coyotes into the goal! Just in the nick of time, too! The crowd went wild and we all transformed back into regular soccer hooligans.
CHAPTER 20
We Are the Champions
It felt good to be a boy again. The crowd showered us with confetti and roses and old food wrappers. We had won the respect of the Carpathians. Gramma put her hair back in its proper place.
Grampa stopped fighting with Curly, and the mascot even took off her mask.
“Wow, Curly!” said Grampa. “If I'd known you were just an eight-year-old girl, I never would have put the smackdown on you!”
Everything was peachy and everyone was happy …
except for the Ladies’ Quilting League.
“Rats! I sure had my heart set on shooting something!” said Fern.
So that's my story. Grampa, Jubal, and I became soccer legends.
Gramma's removable hair was the hottest thing for Christmas.
The Ladies’ Quilting League gave up hunting werewolves and were-yotes for vampires instead.
And as for those coyote mucus-filled donuts. The last one mysteriously went missing….
And you won't believe who ate it.
The local newspaper took these two action shots for the sports section, but something looks wacky about that second picture. Help point out the differences in these two pics before the paper hits the press!
The answers are on the next page. Anyone caught cheating gets two tablespoons of coyote saliva!
WILEY & GRAMPA'S CREATURE FEATURES
If you love Wiley & Grampa more than a big bowl of Pork Cracklins, then be sure to catch all their wacky adventures!
Dracula vs. Grampa at the Monster Truck Spectacular
Thrills! Chills! Vampire trucks and mechanical lobsters?! This is one monster truck show that Wiley & Grampa will never forget!
Grampa's Zomble BBQ
When hungry zombies crash Grampa's annual barbecue, lunch lady Vera whips out her secret side dish. Get ready for the ultimate food-FRIGHT!
KIRK SCROGGS is originally from Austin, Texas–not too far from Gingham County. He moved to Los Angeles to pursue his dream of drawing monters.
Monster Fish Frenzy
If you think a school of man-eatmy piranhas is scary, wait until you see Grampa do a hula dance on the island of Lost Hippies!
Super Soccer Freak Show
Things get hairy when Grampa is bitten by the Carpathian Coyotes' mangy mascot. This tale will leave you howing with laughter!