“Noooo?” asked Hugo. “Iiiii doooon’t believe it!” And — whisk! — he had snatched Tom’s glasses from his nose.
“Hugo,” moaned Tom. “Stop that nonsense. Give me back my glasses.”
“Nooo!” Hugo wobbled, giggling, up to the ceiling. “Not unless yoooou put that dress back on. Yoooou just look toooooo sweeeeet for words iiiin it.”
“Mrs. Worm,” said Tom, “could you possibly pass me a couple of raw eggs?”
“OK, OK,” breathed Hugo, quickly wobbling back down. Like all ASGs, he was gripped by pure terror at the very sight of a raw egg. “Obviously yooooou have noooooo sense of humooooor, either.” He sighed, putting Tom’s glasses back on his nose. “That’s a shame. A reeeal shame.”
“Well, ghosts definitely have a very weird sense of humor,” Tom replied, “and I confess I’ve had my fill of ghosts for today. No offense intended,” he added to Hugo. “But I think I like the idea of Hyssop and Company having a few days’ vacation.”
“Well, we can’t!” said Hetty Hyssop. “I’ve already accepted a job for next week. A STKNOG at a school. But Hugo and I can deal with that just as well on our own.”
Tom realized he didn’t like that idea at all. “No, no, that’s fine,” he said hastily. “STKNOGs are harmless. In any case I need one for my SGHD — Second GhostHunting Diploma.”
“What — hic — is a STKNOG?” asked Mrs.
Worm.
“A STinking KNOcking Ghost,” said Tom. “A pain, but harmless.”
“And stuuuupid,” breathed Hugo. “Terribly stuuupid.”
Hetty Hyssop nodded. “Yes, pretty stupid. But I promise, my dear Tom, that we’ll have two weeks’ vacation afterward, OK?”
“OK,” said Tom. Though he did wonder whether two weeks completely without ghosts might just be a bit boring after all.…
In Case of an Encounter
Indeed, voracious readers, as your roving eyeballs have just witnessed in Ghosthunters and the Totally Moldy Baroness!, Tom barely managed to survive not only a death-defying drawbridge duel with a moth-eaten ghost but also the sheer humiliation of having to wear the old ghoul’s dress in public. (As a sign of your utmost respect for your fellow ghosthunter, he politely requests that you not disclose this last fact, neither by blogging nor by text-messaging nor by cell-phoning.)
Naturally, it would never occur to you to pursue such a rotting apparition yourself, as the near-certain outcome of such a confrontation would be your dissolution into liquidized dirt that your intended prey would suck up like a filthy milk shake. Howbeit…
In the exceptionally implausible instance of an unforeseen and utterly undesired interaction with a HIGA — or with its even more malevolent subspecies, a GHADAP — or merely with an obstensibly innoxious, standard-issue, far-from-frightening apparition — the amateur ghosthunter is advised to subscribe to the following provisos:
PRECAUTIONARY MEASURES
against Ghosts in General
• The color red — as in socks, sweaters, curtains, sofas, and so on.
• Raw eggs, for throwing.
• Violet-scented perfume: Many species of ghost detest the smell. It makes their skin itch, and it has the added bonus of combating their natural and naturally foul ghost odor. For best results, spritz via an atomizer.
• Salt: It burns.
• Mirrors: Hang them on your red-painted walls; wear pocket-sized varieties when in the field.
• A spare pair of shoes: Depending on the variety of ghost, it will leave a trail that’s sticky, snowy, muddy, etc. If in the thrill of the chase your sneakers get glued in place, it helps to have a backup.
• Graveyard dirt that’s been gathered at night (see Ghosthunters and the Incredibly Revolting Ghost! for specifics).
• Chapels and crypts: With the exception of a few species, ghosts wouldn’t be caught dead in these places; recommended as locations for regrouping when in the middle of a ghosthunt gone wrong.
• Daylight: Aim to accomplish the bulk of your ghosthunting during the day, as hauntings tend to intensify in the dark.
• Wind: A strong gust can blow a small-sized ghost to smithereens so, whenever possible, lure your prey into the eye of a storm.
• And no matter what, do not – do NOT – carry a flashlight on ghosthunting expeditions. The beam of a flashlight will drive a ghost into a violent rage.
• But don’t bother whispering: Most ghosts can’t hear very well, and rely instead on their sense of smell. (For this and reasons of basic human hygiene, ghosthunters should make a habit of bathing.)
IN CASE OF AN ENCOUNTER WITH A GIHUFO
(Ghost In HUman FOrm)
• Fill a spray bottle with seawater — invaluable due to its inherent caustic saltiness — and carry at all times.
• Equip yourself with a seismograph specific to the species: It will register the ghost’s impending approach with flashes and whirs.
• In advance of an anticipated attack, caulk the cracks around windowsills and door frames with mint toothpaste; this will keep a GIHUFO from creeping through.
• Suck on an antidotal lozenge: The good news is the utterly vile flavor repulses even the most determined body-nabber. The bad news is the utterly vile flavor.
• In the absence of aforementioned repulsive lozenge, bite your tongue!
TO CATCH A TIBIG
(TIny BIting Ghost)
• Set a trap of sticky paper strips that stink of mouse droppings (see Hyssop & Co.'s mail-order catalog for precut one-, three-, and five-foot lengths; the assorted-length multipack; and the 8-roll Stinky Strip(r) cut-your-own refills with value-added bonus bag of fresh mouse droppings).
• Transport the stuck TIBIGs in a fine-meshed net.
TO COMBAT A HIGA
(HIstorical Ghostly Apparition)
• Verify the HIGA’s time, date, and place of death — as well as how it died — at the earliest opportunity possible: To vanquish the ghost, key aspects of its original death have to be reenacted. A Spooky Energy Visualizer is suggested to ascertain the exact location of the ghost’s death.
• To that end, safeguard books, biographical records, and other relevant arcana, as the HIGA will attempt to destroy any documentation of its human existence — and demise.
• Preemptively cut off all power supplies. Flip the switch on the fuse box; shut down and/or dispose of any batteries or generators within the vicinity of the haunting. If time does not permit for their disposal, neutralize by dousing with anti-HIGA solution.
• Employ a Heat-Intensifying Device: Admittedly, this device requires a certain amount of skill to use; amateur ghosthunters may find the dual actions of anchoring the spike while roping the HIGA with the conductive plug a tad challenging. But when successfully employed, a HID draws power away from battery-charged ghosts and transforms it into heat — which, of course, almost all ghosts hate.
• Unleash a TIBIG or two (see previous section): Less technologically advanced than the HID but impressively effective, TIBIGs will set about cannibalizing larger ghosts, including HIGAs, by biting huge chunks out of useful body parts. Although the holey ghosts can eventually regenerate themselves, it is a slow, energy-consuming process — one that buys valuable time for besieged ghosthunters.
WHAT TO EXPECT IF YOU’RE POSSESSED BY A GHADAP
(GHost With A DArk Past; subspecies of HIGA)
• Repellent giggling.
• Pumpkinheaditis: The head of the possessed will light up like a jack-o'-lantern; the facial features will blur as if made of liquid; the eyebrows will thicken unflatteringly; the hair will drip green slime.
• A residual puddle, greenish gray in color, muddy in consistency.
• Temporary mental confusion.
• Twenty-four hours of hiccups.
IN CASE OF AN ENCOUNTER WITH A GHADAP
• An itchy, tingling sensation is a typical response to a GHADAP’s touch. If you feel anything other than, and/or above and beyond, tingled — or if yo
u are otherwise ill-equipped for a counterattack — run. Run away as fast as you can. In a zigzag pattern.
(Note: Marathon zigzaggers recommend fixing your vision on a distant focal point so as to avoid (a) making yourself dizzy to the point of passing out; and (b) accidentally zigzagging back toward the ghost you are attempting to flee.)
• Don rubber boots and gloves: These counter mudpuddlication (that is, the transformation of the victim into a puddle of mud), thereby delaying the GHADAP’s opportunity to slurp up your muddy remains.
• Uncover a personal item from the ghost’s human past, then trick the GHADAP into touching it. Poof! The ghost goes up in smoke — or, more accurately, mist. Recommended past-life items include: old bed linens; worn-out stockings and socks; suits of armors; royal gowns; riding britches; and soiled handkerchiefs.
• Alternately, write the ghost’s human name backward on a mirror, then get the GHADAP to gaze at its reflection. Poof! etc.
Indispensable Alphabetical APPENDIX OF ASSORTED GHOSTS
AG Ancient Ghost
ASG Averagely Spooky Ghost
BLAGDO BLAck Ghost DOg
BOSG BOg and Swamp Ghost
CAG CAstle Ghost
CG Cellar Ghost
COHAG COmpletely HArmless Ghost
FG Fire Ghost
FOFIFO FOggy FIgure FOrmer
FOFUG FOggy FUg-Ghost
GG Graveyard Ghost
GHADAP GHost with A DArk Past
GIHUFO Ghost In HUman FOrm
GILIG Gruesome Invincible LIghtning Ghost
HIGA HIstorical Ghostly Apparition
IRG Incredibly Revolting Ghost
MG Marsh Ghost
MUWAG MUddy WAters Ghost
NEPGA NEgative Projection of a Ghostly
Apparition
PAWOG PAle WObbly Ghost
STKNOG STinking KNOcking Ghost
TIBIG TIny BIting Ghost
TOHAG TOtally HArmless Ghost
TOMOB TOtally MOldy Baroness
WG Water Ghost
WHIWHI WHIrlwind WHIrler
Miscellaneous Listing of NECESSITOUS EQUIPMENT and NOTEWORTHY ORGANIZATIONS
CDEGH Clinic for the DE-spookification of
GhostHunters
CECOCOG CEntral COmmission for COmbating
Ghosts
COCOT COntact-COmpression Trap
FIGHD FIfth GhostHunting Diploma
GES Ghostly Energy Sensor
GHOSID GHOst-SImulation Disguise
HID Heat-Intensifying Device
LOAG List Of All Known Ghosts
NENEB NEgative-NEutralizer Belt
OFFCOCAG OFFice for COmbating CAstle Ghosts
RCFCAG Retention Center For Criminally
Aggressive Ghosts
RICOG Research Institute for COmbating Ghosts
ROGA Register Office for Ghostly Apparitions
SEV Spook Energy Visualizer
SGHD Second GhostHunting Diploma
THGHD THird GhostHunting Diploma
Preview
It took Hetty Hyssop and Tom nearly a quarter of an hour to convince the inhabitants of Bogpool that their village had turned into one of the most dangerous places on Earth. Packed together like sardines, most of them still in bathrobes and pajamas, the villagers sat listening, their faces ashen with horror, to Tom’s description of the Zargoroth. Only the vicar’s sister interrupted Tom several times to call out that she’d said so all along. When Hetty Hyssop told them how deadly the Thirteenth Messenger was, switching the lights off as she ended her speech, there was no way the Bogpoolers were staying in their seats any longer.
Ten minutes later, Tom, Hetty Hyssop, and Erwin Hornheaver were standing alone in the dark hall, surrounded by nothing but overturned chairs and lost bedroom slippers.
“Well, Hornheaver,” said Hetty Hyssop. “Pack whatever you want to save from the mud and get yourself to safety.”
But Erwin Hornheaver didn’t stir. He stared blackly at the gurgling mud that was flowing through the open front door and into the playground. “And what are you two going to do now, may I ask?”
“Well, we’ll try to prepare a nice welcome for the Zargoroth,” replied Tom.
Erwin Hornheaver nodded and surveyed the upturned chairs. “Reckon you two could use a bit of help, couldn’t you?”
Tom and Hetty Hyssop exchanged surprised looks.
“Y’know,” Hornheaver continued, “I’ve never been very afraid of these ghosts. I was a boxer once upon a time, before I inherited my aunt’s inn, and I only give up if I’m knocked out. If you get my drift.”
“That really is a very generous offer, Hornheaver,” said Hetty Hyssop. “And I hope you’ve got some idea of what you’re getting yourself into. Tom, have we got a third pair of protective goggles with us?”
Tom rummaged around in his backpack. “I haven’t got any on me,” he said finally. “But I think there’s a spare in the suitcase.”
“Good.” Hetty Hyssop nodded and gave Erwin Hornheaver an appreciative thump on the shoulders. “It’s not often that someone offers to help us,” she said. “And tonight’s a night when we’d really appreciate it, isn’t it, Tom?”
“Too right,” murmured Tom, who was disconcerted to see that the mud was flowing faster and faster into the school.
It was now twenty to three. The night was still young. And they didn’t have the faintest idea how they were to fight whatever was coming for them.
By twenty after three, Bogpool was a deserted village. Erwin Hornheaver had walked around the place and hadn’t encountered a single living being. Not even a cat or a hen. The Bogpoolers had taken their livestock and horses with them. And mud and fog were taking possession of one house after another.
“Good!” said Hetty Hyssop, pacing energetically up and down their room. “Everyone’s gone, so we can get to work. How are you getting on, Tom?”
“Still nothing,” Tom spat through clenched teeth. Ever since they’d gotten back from the assembly hall, he’d been crouching in front of the computer, typing in one keyword after another — in the desperate hope of turning up some clue as to how they were supposed to fight the Zargoroth. Tom’s eyes hurt, and he had to keep taking his glasses off to rub away the veil of tiredness that made the words on the screen swim around in front of him. “Nothing,” he said, and shook his head. “We just don’t know enough about this ghost. It’s enough to drive you crazy.”
“That NEgative Projection of a Ghostly Apparition isn’t talking, eeeeeeeeeeeither!” breathed Hugo, tapping the COntact COmpression Trap with his finger. “Iiiii’ve triiiiiied reeeeeeeally hard toooooo persuaaaaaade him, ghoooooost to ghoooooost, but Iiiii can’t get a peeeeeep ooout of him. Conceeeeited frazzled idiiiiiiot ghoooost!”
Tom sat bolt upright.
“What?” Both Hugo and Hetty Hyssop looked at him.
“That’s it!” Tom cried, snapping the computer shut. “That’s our only chance!”
“Does he often speak in riddles?” growled Hornheaver, giving Hetty Hyssop a mug of hot coffee and Tom his fourth can of soda.
“Hugo, put the COCOT under my pillow,” said Tom, “so the NEPGA can’t hear what we’re talking about.”
The ASG did as he was told, and Tom lowered his voice.
“There’s only one thing to do!” he whispered. “We let the NEPGA go, then follow it to its master. Once we’ve actually set eyes on the Zargoroth, we might be able to identify what kind of ghost that is — and how we can fight it!”
Tom felt really pleased with himself and his idea, but Hetty Hyssop frowned. “That’s a dangerous idea, my dear boy,” she said. “Even if I were to agree to such a plan, how do you propose to follow a NEPGA? Human legs are definitely too slow, and what are you going to do if it flies? Or if it just floats through a wall?”
“We could coat it in a mixture of baking powder and scouring sand,” replied Tom. “That slows ghosts down and stops them from going through walls. And as far as flying is concerned, you know
I’m really not that keen on it, but…” He turned to Hugo and didn’t finish his sentence.
The ASG turned the color of pale mold. “Ooooooh! What’s that looooook suuuuupposed to meeeeeean?”
“You can carry me on your back!” said Tom. “In all that fog out there, you’re as good as invisible, but you can see the NEPGA as clearly as anything. We can follow it to its master, find out exactly what we’re dealing with — and then fly back here. Not very difficult, is it?”
“Ha! Ha-haaaaa!” Hugo rolled his garish green eyes. “Not veeery difficult, heeeeee says!”
“You ought to let Hugo do it on his own, Tom,” said Hetty Hyssop. “The job isn’t half as dangerous for a ghost as it is for a human.”
“Pah, it’s dangerous eeeeenooooough!” grumbled Hugo — but Hetty Hyssop gave him such a fierce look that he shut up.
“He can’t do it on his own!” cried Tom. “He doesn’t know anything about identifying and classifying ghosts. I bet Hugo can recognize at most five percent of them!”
“At mosssssst!” breathed Hugo, showing his agreement by banging Tom on the back.
Hetty Hyssop shook her head. “I don’t like this,” she said. “No. There has to be another way. After all, the Ghost of Death’s spooking around out there as well.”
“Oh, I’ve got the protective goggles,” said Tom dismissively. “That really isn’t a problem.”
Erwin Hornheaver hadn’t spoken thus far. But now he cleared his throat. “Leave the boy alone!” he told Hetty Hyssop, topping up her coffee mug. “He can do it. You told me yourself what a first-class ghosthunter he is.”
Tom was thankful for this unexpected support, but Hetty Hyssop looked at him and sighed. “Well, yes, he certainly is!” she said. “He’s one of the best, one of the very best.”
Tom turned as red as tomato juice.
“That settles it, then,” he said, self-consciously setting his glasses straight. “Have you got any baking powder and scouring sand, Mr. Hornheaver?”
Ghosthunters and the Totally Moldy Baroness! Page 6