by Ahmet Zappa
“Max, what are you doing?” I shouted at him.
“Minerva, shut up,” he snapped, and stared at me with a “stick to the plan; I have everything under control” look on his face. Then he turned back toward the Swoggler. “I have so many memories stuck in my head that probably taste like chocolate pudding. It would be a shame for you never to get to sample them. Have you ever even had chocolate pudding? It's my favorite. Just take Ms. Monstranomicon away from the pit and I'll give you a little taste,” Max said, and took one obvious step closer to the Swoggler.
“SSsswell, SSssit SSssdoesss SSsssound SSsstempting,” the Swoggler said, and swallowed at the idea of what my brother might taste like. Max lowered his head ever so invitingly and took one more step closer to the creature.
“Listen, it's a fair trade. Just throw Ms. Monstranomicon toward my sister and I'll personally put my head in your mouth for you to leech away upon. Think of all the yummy things I'm ashamed of or embarrassed about. My secrets alone probably taste like creamy caramels, and if you don't like caramel, think about how fantastic my fears will taste,” Max continued, laying it on thick. “Look, we're just little kids. You'll probably get the book back from Minerva again anyway. You did it once before, so you can do it again. Just throw her the book and taste my brain.”
That was the deal maker. Convincing the Swoggler that it could catch us again was a stroke of brilliance on Max's part. The Swoggler raised Ms. Monstranomicon from over the pit and threw her to me.
I was nervous now. What was Max going to do?
“SSssI SSssdid SSsswhat SSssyou SSssasked SSssof SSssme, SSssMax. SSssnow SSssstep SSssforward SSssand SSssfeed SSssme,” slobbered the Swoggler, salivating uncontrollably for Max's mind.
“A deal's a deal,” Max said, and took his third step, which I had been waiting for. Both of us dropped to the ground at the same time. I wasn't expecting what happened next at all, but Max sure was. The moment we hit the ground, a long, moldy green wooden spear, thrown from somewhere be-hind us, plunged its way right into the middle of the Swoggler's chest, stopping the creature in its tracks. The beast yelled in pain and teetered on its skinny legs, shocked and outraged that it had been tricked so easily.
Seeing my brother on the ground only a few inches away from its feet gave the Swoggler an awful idea. If it was going to die, then it wouldn't be dying alone. It was going to rip my brother apart until it breathed its last breath. I had to do something. When the Swoggler bent to grab Max, I sprang to my feet with a McFearless burst of speed and jump-kicked the Swoggler, blindsiding it and sending it over the side of the bottomless pit into the scorching flames below.
“Minerva, no! Don't!” screamed Max, horrified, but it was too late. My kick had already connected. “Why did you do that?” he asked, teary-eyed.
“To save your butt,” I said, not understanding the troubled look on Max's face.
What was the problem? Why wasn't he grateful? I didn't understand why Max was so upset with me. Before I could figure it out, I was picked up by two massive green hands—the same hands that had thrown the spear into the Swoggler's chest.
“Hello, Minerva. I really wish you hadn't done that,” Milgrew said somberly.
“Milgrew, I thought the Snargle killed you back on the Adelaide!” I said, happy to see our moldy friend. Behind him stood Mushroach and Sporak, and held carefully in Sporak's arms was my father, with a huge smile on his face.
“Daddy!” I shouted with love, and ran to him immediately. I grabbed and squeezed him as hard as I could, but his stare never changed. He didn't respond to me at all. He was an empty, unfeeling shell with a cruel, contradictory smile permanently fixed on his face. It was horrible. “Why is he like this? What's going on?” I asked, scared and confused.
“When we were first fighting the Swoggler, Milgrew contacted me psychically and I told him what was happening. He said that he had our father but that Dad wasn't okay, that we needed to keep the Swoggler preoccupied until the Moldrens got here. Milgrew also explained that our father had been swoggled for too long and that we needed to be able to milk the Swoggler's monster brain to get Dad's memories back,” said Max, tears rolling down his face. “We needed the Swoggler's head, Minerva, and now, since you kicked the creature over the side, Dad's going to be stuck like that forever!”
“Oh, no! I didn't know!” I cried with a dreadful sinking feeling in my gut, and sobbed into the emotionless arms of my father. “I'm so sorry, Daddy. I am so, so sorry. I just didn't know….”
than smile that false smile of his.
When we made it to the Adelaide, Max didn't even get excited about seeing his own living ship or want to sail with her topside. Instead, he opted to sulk silently inside the captain's quarters, behind locked doors, and tried to keep himself from getting seasick. Mushroach and Sporak placed my father in the ship's fore cabin for his own safety, then jumped off the deck to swim ahead, preferring the anti-social calm of the waters they knew and loved. Milgrew took command of the Adelaide and set course for Whistlesqueak. I occasionally made idle conversation with him, but it felt kind of forced. Maybe I was paranoid, but I kept thinking that Max was saying bad things about me in Milgrew's mind while we had our chats. So it was hard for me to enjoy his company. Ms. Monstranomicon kept trying to make me feel better by telling me over and over that my father's state of mind wasn't my fault, but that only made me feel worse.
All in all, the mood that surrounded everyone aboard the ship was one of pure gloom.
That night, after I had cried for about an hour and just before the gentle rocking of the waves sent me to sleep, a feeling that I'll never get used to happened to me for the second time. The world around me ceased to exist, and once again I was moving incredibly fast without actually moving at all, hurtling through time and space into a void of pitch-black darkness. I emerged in a small candlelit room aboard the Adelaide. In front of me, sitting at a small table grown directly from the floorboards of the ship itself, were Max and Milgrew. Ms. Monstranomicon was there too, happily resting in the hands of the being who had teleported me.
“Now that you are all here, let's get down to business.”
It was Maximillius—in the form of Mr. Devilstone once again.
“I know a way to get your father's memories back. Max, you're going to have to stop being such a jerk to your sister, and, Minerva, stop being such a dramatic fool, or I won't help either of you,” he said, and unceremoniously swatted both of us in the face with his tail.
I was so happy to see the cantankerous coyote that the shock of his tail swat and the dirty, gross- tasting mouthful of fur deposited on my tongue didn't even bother me.
“Okay, now that that's settled, can I count on you all to help me retrieve Manfred's memories?” Mr. Devilstone asked.
“I will help,” said Milgrew.
“Anything for you, sweetie,” said Ms. Monstranomicon lovingly.
“You can count on me for sure,” said Max, a smile finally returning to his face.
“Now, what about you, Minerva?” asked Mr. Devilstone, smirking, with his tail wagging back and forth impatiently.
“Of course!” I shouted, with hope restored.
Mr. Devilstone nodded. “Good. Now let's go wake your mother up.”
These are the people, places and things that, for various reasons, I feel must be thanked from the bottom of my heart:
My fourth-grade teacher, Tracy McDonald. Helen Breitwieser, for believing I could do it. Clay, my vegan, weirdo, genius sculptor and incredible artist of a friend, for going above and beyond. Chris Angelilli, for giving me this opportunity and for making this a much better book. Tanya Mauler and all of the other fine people at Random House, whose exceptional hard work turned my dream into a reality. You have my deepest gratitude. The Incomparable Brendan Smith. Mr. Snoobles. Keith Lawler. Shea, Jona, and Brian Bowen-Smith, for capturing the magic. Du-par's in Studio City. Paris, for your help with costumes and our late-night pancake consumptions. Anna, my Minerva McFearless
. I couldn't have done this book without you. Julie, Elio, Luca, Daniel, Scruffy and a big round of applause for Elena; your love and support mean so much. Shon at Valentino's. Carolin at Nardulli. The Katlemans—Steve, Janet, Nick and Sara. My consigliere, Harris. My father, Frank, for sharing your love of monsters with me; I miss you. My mother, Gail, for calling me her favorite poet. And to the rest of my ever-growing family, Moon, Paul, little Mathilda, Dweezil, Lauren, Diva, Molly, Lizzie, Michael, Mimi, Jim and Katie. The number 8. Maurice Sendak. Apple computers. Sweet Rosa Valladares, for taking such good care of me. The Aroma Café. Tory, the funniest person on the planet, and the lovely Rose. Isky, the mysterious robot. Jules, my reptilian, worrying friend. Chuck at Rock Central. Niall, my sword-fighting, laser-shooting backyard buddy; thanks for being a part of my book. Allison, Harris, Phinneas, Bacon and Bobby. Jan, Brenna, Jack, Ana Lovelis, Kenny, Szatania, Pyrena, Mac Kinley and Draykus Enea. Both Godzillas: the giant rubber monster and my dearly departed dog. Alice Warshaw, I still owe you some monster sculptures; I hope this book makes up for it. TuTu, for her legendary grapefruit cake. Sean Larkin and Candace. David Brady, you're always there for me. Kristen, Devon and Savanna. Paul and Jerry. Tom, “The Electrician.” Urth coffee, Carmel by the Sea. My fur goblin, Wink.
Last but nowhere near and definitely not the least, the biggest thanks of them all must go to my amazing wife. I never could have written this book without your support and understanding. You are my best friend, Selma, and I love you forever and ever.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2006 by Ahmet Zappa.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Random House Children's Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
RANDOM HOUSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Grateful acknowledgment is made to the following for permission to reproduce previously published material: Hemera Technologies, Inc.: for the use of Photo Objects from THE BIG BOX OF ART. © Hemera Technologies, Inc.; and Zappa Family Trust: for the use of Frank Zappa images. © 1967, 1984, 2006 Zappa Family Trust. Used by permission.
www.randomhouse.com/kids
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Zappa, Ahmet.
The monstrous memoirs of a mighty McFearless / written and illustrated by Ahmet Zappa.
p. cm.
SUMMARY: With the help of Mr. Devilstone and a book called the Monstranomicon, Minerva and her brother Max go to the evil Zarmaglorg's Castle Doominstinkinfart to rescue their father, who they have discovered comes from a long line of monsterminators.
eISBN: 978-0-307-53855-0
[1. Monsters—Fiction. 2. Brothers and sisters—Fiction. 3. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.Z258Mon 2006
[Fic]—dc22
2005025828
v3.0