Stampede of the Supermarket Slugs

by Bill Doyle

  “Tell them that!” Henry whispered back.

  At the sound of their voices, the slugs froze. Then, very slowly, all their eyestalks turned toward Henry and Keats. The black eyes squinted at them angrily.

  “Uh-oh,” Henry said.

  The slugs reared up, revealing their gaping mouths. Even in the dim light, Keats could see something he hadn’t noticed before.

  “Squirt has fangs!” he shouted. “They all do!”

  Keats’s shout was like a starting pistol. The slugs oozed forward, heading right for the cousins.

  “Ahhh!” Henry and Keats cried at the same time. They stumbled backward through the storeroom doors into the canned-vegetables aisle. Keats skittered into a shelf of baked beans. The cans toppled over as he sprawled onto the floor.

  Bang! The storeroom doors flew open and the slugs burst out. Squirt was in the front, leading the pack. Their sharp teeth clicked as their mouths opened and closed. Squirt seemed more confident now that he had backup.

  Henry dragged Keats to his feet and pulled him behind a display of stewed tomatoes.

  “Why are the slugs so mad at us?” Keats said. He was having a tough time catching his breath.

  “Well, we did lock Squirt in a jar,” said Henry. Then, scratching his chin, he added, “Don’t worry, Keats, we’ll be fine. We’ll just scare them back into that crate.”

  Henry grabbed a couple of the jumbo-sized tomato cans. He stepped into the aisle and rolled them at the slugs like he was bowling. Most just jumped over the cans. The others crawled up the shelves to avoid them.

  “Don’t roll the cans!” Keats said. “Throw them!”

  The cousins started bombing the slugs with any cans they could get their hands on. Lima beans. Peas. Carrots. Henry scored a few direct hits. But the cans just bounced off the slugs’ doughy bodies. They didn’t seem to notice.

  Several slugs began catching the cans with their mouths. Their teeth tore through the metal. They sucked down what was inside. Then they whipped their heads and flung the slime-covered cans back at the cousins. Half-empty containers whizzed past the stewed-tomato display and clattered around Henry and Keats. Red, green, and yellow vegetable juice sprayed the shelves.

  Keats hunched over and started zigzagging down the aisle.

  “Where are you going?” Henry asked as he fired off a can of pickled mushrooms.

  “To call for help,” Keats said. He dodged a missile of beets that crashed to the floor next to him. “This is way beyond what we signed up for!”

  Henry jumped out to stop him. “We can’t call anyone! If we do, the store will be shut down and our moms will lose their jobs. Don’t retreat yet. I have a better idea.” He rushed past Keats.

  “Wait!” Keats shouted.

  “I’ll be right back,” Henry told him. “Keep them busy.” He ran down the aisle and around the corner.

  “Keep them busy?” Keats repeated. “With what? A book? A game of chess?”

  Keats crawled to the end of the aisle. He ducked behind a stack of pepper grinders with a cardboard cutout of a famous actor wearing a cowboy hat. Behind the cutout was a shelf filled with salt canisters.

  Salt! He remembered his dad saying slugs hated salt. Keats opened the spouts of five canisters. Keeping low, he tossed them one by one over the cardboard cutout at the slugs. The open canisters left trails of white as they sailed through the air.

  For a moment there was quiet. Then the slugs started making chittering sounds. Had the salt worked? Keats peeked around the cutout. No, the slugs were happily tossing the salt canisters around like beach balls. A few even held canisters in their mouths and poured salt down their throats.

  Keats balled his hands into fists. What would it take to stop these super slugs? Even salt didn’t work!

  “Splurp!” An impatient sound came from Squirt. The other slugs froze. Keats stopped moving, too. Squirt opened his mouth again and said, “Splarb!”

  Right away, the frolicking slugs dropped the salt canisters. Their eyestalks went rigid and they lined up in front of Squirt in three rows of four.

  “Splarb!” Squirt repeated, and the slugs wriggled forward as a unit. He was like a drill sergeant commanding the troops. Any stray cans of vegetables in their path they either gobbled up or threw at Keats. They fanned out and formed a ring around the display.

  “Henry!” Keats shouted. “Help!”

  The slugs in the front bit into the pepper grinders, crushing them with their sharp teeth. The rest swarmed over the display and chewed up the life-sized cutout of the actor. The cowboy hat drifted to the floor. A slug swallowed it whole.

  Keats knew he might be next. He couldn’t wait anymore. He sprinted and leapt over the slugs, shouting, “Henry! Where are you?”

  At his shout, Henry ran out of the housewares section. He wore a bulky red machine on his back like a pack. With both hands, he held a long, wide nozzle.

  “What is that thing?” Keats asked.

  “The Super Sucker 8000,” Henry said proudly. “The supermarket rents out this vacuum cleaner for really nasty messes. It sucks up stuff and seals it inside bags.”

  Keats eyed the machine. “You’re going to use it to capture the slugs!”

  Henry tapped his forehead. “You got it, cuz.”

  With Keats close behind, Henry led the way back to the slugs. Squirt was guiding them toward the checkout lanes.

  “Time to take care of business,” Henry said in his best action-hero voice. He reached back and hit the Super Sucker’s power switch. Nothing happened. Henry tried the switch again. Still nothing.

  By now the slugs had noticed the cousins. Squirt barked out another command and the slugs changed direction.

  “Uh, Henry,” Keats called out nervously. “They’re coming!”

  “What’s wrong with this thing?” Henry said, shaking the nozzle. “Why won’t it work?”

  Keats took his eyes off the slugs for a second. He glanced at the vacuum on Henry’s back. “You didn’t plug it in!” He looked around desperately. There! He jammed the vacuum’s plug into an electrical outlet in the floor.

  Henry flicked the switch. The vacuum roared to life. Now they were ready! But the slugs had changed course again.

  Instead of charging the cousins, the slugs attacked the racks of mini snack bags at the ends of each checkout lane. They climbed up past the potato chips and the pretzels and went straight for the cheese puffs at the top. Their weight sent all four racks toppling over.

  The slugs swarmed over the snack bags, slashing them open and stuffing the puffs into their mouths. They didn’t even seem to notice as Henry and Keats stepped closer.

  Henry pointed the nozzle at a slug but he missed. He got a bunch of cheese-puff powder instead. Thwip! A pumpkin-sized vacuum bag popped off the back of the machine. It bounced down the aisle.

  Keats was really starting to doubt this plan.

  “Oops. Let’s try that again,” Henry said. This time he sucked up a slug. Thwop! The slug flew up the nozzle and filled one of the bags. The bag sealed shut and came free from the vacuum. It fell to the floor with a thud.

  “See?” Henry said, grinning. “What did I—”

  Pop! The bag exploded as the slug chewed its way out. It shook off the torn bag like a dog shaking off water. Its black eyes glared at Keats and Henry, and then it jumped in the air. The slug’s teeth clamped down onto the fabric of Keats’s jacket.

  “Hey!” Keats shouted. He pulled away and his jacket sleeve tore off. The slug chewed it to shreds.

  All the commotion got Squirt’s attention. He took his head out of a bag of snacks. His eyes waved around crossly.

  “Splurp!” he shouted through his full mouth of cheese puffs. “Splarb!”

  The other slugs stopped eating. One yanked the plug out of the socket and the vacuum died. Two other slugs bit down on the nozzle, crushing the metal.

  Henry pulled at the nozzle. But the slugs refused to let go. He had to slide the vacuum off his back and drop it. The sl
ugs started tearing it apart.

  “Okay, Keats,” Henry said. “Now you can say it!”

  Keats shouted, “Retreat!”

  And the cousins took off running.

  4

  LOST ANN’S FUND

  HENRY AND KEATS scrambled to the small manager’s office at the far end of the checkout lanes. They slammed the door shut behind them and, breathing hard, leaned against the metal desk. They could hear the slugs tearing apart the bags of snack food.

  “Now what?” Keats said. He eyed the desk phone. “Should we call for help?”

  “No way,” Henry said, shaking his head. “I’m not ready to give up. Are you?”

  Keats’s mind raced. He was freaked out. And honestly he was ready to quit. But he didn’t want Henry to think he was chicken. “Okay, we won’t call anyone yet,” he agreed.

  Henry said, “Too bad we don’t have a World’s—”

  Keats gave him a sharp look. Henry stopped, remembering his promise not to dream up any World’s Greatest Plans. “Too bad we don’t have the wand,” he said instead. “We could use some magic.”

  Keats snapped his fingers. “That’s it! In his note, Mr. Cigam said he left us the recipe for Sleep-Slug Potion in this office. We can use it to put the slugs to sleep!”

  “Good call,” said Henry. “We just have to find ‘lost Ann’s fund,’ whatever that is.”

  The cousins searched the office. They rummaged through the stacks of papers on the desk. They peeked into the lost-and-found box in the corner. Henry stuck his fingers into the dirt of the wilted potted rubber tree plant near the door. Keats climbed on a chair to check out the top of the file cabinets.

  Zilch. No potion recipe.

  Keats slumped against the wall.

  “You could tell the slugs about gastropods,” Henry joked. “That might put them to sleep.”

  Keats chuckled. He knew Henry was trying to cheer him up.

  “Seriously, I don’t think the potion recipe is in here,” Henry said. “Maybe it got lost and found its way into a bottomless pit or something.”

  Keats’s eyes lit up. “Say that again!”

  “Something,” Henry repeated.

  Keats whacked his shoulder. “No, lost and found!” he said. “Mr. Cigam’s words were all mushed up because of the punch, remember? It sounded like he said ‘lost Ann’s fund.’ But I bet he actually meant ‘lost and found’!”

  A grin spread across Henry’s face. “That’s it! Way to go, cuz!”

  They both rushed to the cardboard lost-and-found box in the corner. The cousins took out everything. A torn glove. A toy train. One shoe. Broken eyeglasses. Even a retainer. At the bottom was an old book.

  Keats read the title out loud, “Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Math and Numbers.”

  “Boring,” Henry said, already turning away. “Someone probably lost that on purpose.”

  “Are you kidding me? It sounds great!” Keats reached for it and his fingers slid right over it. He tried again and still couldn’t grab the book.

  “Whoa,” he said. “This book isn’t real. It’s just a piece of cardboard.”

  That got Henry’s attention. He crouched down next to Keats. Keats slipped one finger under the cardboard. He lifted the fake book and handed it to Henry. Underneath was a small, dusty panel in the floor.

  “Stunner,” Henry said.

  The door was held shut with a wax seal. Big block letters spelled out YLNO CIGAM ROF.

  Henry frowned. “What does that mean?” he asked.

  Keats read the words again. “I’m not sure. But that’s Mr. Cigam’s name, right?”

  “Yep,” Henry said. “And we’re working for him. So I vote we see what’s inside.”

  Before Keats could answer, Henry grabbed a letter opener off the desk and pried open the panel. As the wax seal broke, a gust of air shot out. Henry and Keats jerked away as the strange air blew back their hair and swirled around them. It smelled a little like mothballs. Right away, the whole room seemed to change.

  Thwup! The rubber tree plant in the corner twisted up toward the ceiling, sprouting purple flowers in the shape of rabbits. The floor lamp danced a jig. And the file cabinet’s drawers slammed open and closed.

  “Check out the phone, Keats!” Henry whispered. It had sprouted four wheels that spun like a drag car getting ready to race. Then ping!, the phone fired off the desk. It hit the floor with so much force that it smashed through the office’s thin wall. Dragging the snapped wire, it shot toward the checkout lanes.

  Henry and Keats gaped at the phone-shaped hole in the wall.

  “Uh, Henry, maybe we shouldn’t have opened that panel,” Keats said.

  Henry shrugged. “Too late now.”

  They bent back down to look more closely at the floor. Behind the panel was the opening of a tube as wide as a car’s exhaust pipe. Under it, a metal plate had the label 1313 HOUDINI WAY—HALLWAY HOUSE.

  “Incredible!” Keats said. “That’s an old-fashioned pneumatic tube!”

  Henry frowned. “Old new-what?”

  “Pneumatic tubes were a way to send messages fast,” Keats explained. “Air pushes letters from one place to another. This tube says it’s connected to Hallway House.”

  “That’s Mr. Cigam’s place!” Henry said. “See that? Something’s in the tube.”

  He pulled out a rolled-up sheet of paper tied with a string. He slid the string off and opened it. It was a note in Mr. Cigam’s handwriting. Keats leaned closer so they could read it at the same time.

  SLEEP-SLUG POTION

  Mix one part of each ingredient. Sprinkle

  potion over the slug.

  Clementine juice

  Barbecue sauce

  Octopus legs

  Nacho cheese dip

  Warm milk

  Molasses

  Best of luck, Henry and Keats!

  A. Cigam

  “Yes!” Keats tapped the note. “This is what we need! We’ll just grab all these ingredients and mix them up—”

  “—and blam!” Henry said with a grin. “The potion will put the slugs to sleep. They’ll be easy to catch. Let’s go!”

  Knock! Knock!

  The sound came from outside the office. Without thinking, Keats asked, “Who’s there?”

  Henry put a finger to his lips and said, “Shhh.” He tiptoed over to the door and peeked down through the small window. “Oh man,” he whispered.

  Henry waved Keats over so he could see, too. It was Squirt! He knocked his eyestalks against the door again. When he didn’t get a response, he sunk his sharp teeth into the lower half of the door. He started tearing at the wood.

  “He’s going to eat his way inside!” Keats yelled. He didn’t bother whispering anymore.

  “And he’s not alone,” Henry said, pointing to the checkout lanes. “Look!”

  A few small bags of pretzels and chips hadn’t been touched. But every snack pack of cheese puffs on the tipped-over racks had been gobbled up. The herd of slugs was oozing toward the office.

  “Hey! There must be twenty slugs now,” Keats said, taking a quick count. “How can there be seven more of them?”

  Henry didn’t have a chance to answer. The office’s front wall shook as the slugs swarmed up it, searching for a way in.

  Keats started to panic. “This is a supermarket filled with food! What do they want in here?”

  Henry looked at Keats. “You,” he said.

  “Me?” Keats’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

  Henry pointed at Keats’s torn jacket. The front was smeared with cheese-puff powder. “I’m guessing cheese puffs are their favorite food. It probably got on you when that slug bit your sleeve.”

  “Ugh!” Keats cried. He ripped off his jacket and threw it on the ground.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Henry said. He picked up the jacket and hurried to the lost-and-found box. Then he rubbed the toy train with cheese-puff powder from Keats’s jacket.

  “What are you d
oing?” Keats said.

  “See if you can follow my train of thought,” Henry said with a wink. “I’m going to send the slugs to the snack-food aisle. It’s only one aisle away. Bags and bags of cheese puffs are just waiting for them!”

  Henry knelt next to the hole made by the phone. He aimed the train toward the snack aisle and pushed it through. The toy clattered forward a few feet, then crashed to its side in front of the snack aisle. Before the cousins could see anything else—

  An eyestalk jammed through the hole. The slug’s black eyeball glared at the boys.

  Keats jerked back. “The slugs didn’t notice the train! They’re still breaking in!”

  Henry held up a hand. “Wait. Just wait,” he said.

  They heard a long, wet sniffing sound. And then the eyestalk popped back through the hole. Henry and Keats got down to look. Smelling the air, a curious slug squirmed over to the train and bit down. As it chewed the toy, the slug glanced down the snack aisle … and its eyes went wide.

  “Yes!” Keats said. He pumped his fist. “It sees the cheese puffs!”

  With a “wheee!” of excitement, the slug dove into the aisle and out of sight. At the sound of tearing bags, the other slugs dropped from the office wall with a series of plops and hurried over to the snack aisle. The cousins were alone again.

  “There are tons of cheese puffs in that aisle,” Henry said. “That should keep the slugs busy for now.”

  “For now,” Keats repeated. But he knew it wouldn’t take the slugs long to eat all the cheese puffs. Then they would start looking for something else to munch on.

  Like maybe two cousins named Keats and Henry.

  5

  MIXED-UP MAGIC

  AVOIDING THE SLIME streaks on the floor and office door, the cousins crept out into the store. They couldn’t see the slugs in the snack aisle. But they could hear them ripping through wrappers and chomping the snacks.

  Keats shuddered. “I really can’t wait to get out of here,” he said.

  He matched the potion recipe to the map on the coupon book. The ingredients were scattered all over the store. They didn’t have time to get everything before the cheese puffs ran out.