Camp Creepy Time_The Adventures of Einstein P. Fleet
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“What is it set on right now?” Einstein asked from his hid-ing spot. Due to his size, he was only able to squeeze about halfway under the sagging cot, leaving the backside of his body completely exposed. All things considered, it was a rather em-barrassing position.
“It’s set on sting and pointed right at your rear.” Curly laughed, preparing to fire. “I’m going to use your tush for tar-get practice.”
Someone cackled at the remark, but it wasn’t Einstein. The laughter was coming from the ceiling, directly above the spot on which he was standing. Curly looked up and saw nothing. “Come down from there or I’ll shoot!”
“Go ahead and blast away,” Greeley said, materializing right next to him. The ghost moved closer until he and Curly were standing nose to nose. “I’ll make it easy for you.”
Curly squeezed off a few rounds, but none of them hit the mark. Instead, they passed right through Greeley and hit the wall, splintering apart large chunks of wood in the pro-cess. The blood drained from Curly’s face. He backed up and continued to fire as Greeley walked toward him. Finally, the cook bumped into an easy chair and could not back up any farther.
“Have a seat, sonny,” Greeley said, giving Curly a push. The yellow seat cushion exploded with a loud pop, releasing the glue. Curly tried to stand up, but to no avail. His rear end was stuck to the chair.
“I’ll take that,” Roxie said, standing directly behind him. She reached over and grabbed the blaster out of Curly’s hand. Roxie examined the weapon for any sign of superglue that may have splattered when the balloon exploded. Satisfied that the blaster was in perfect working order, she switched on the safety and tucked it into the top of her pants.
“Where did you learn to handle a blaster?” Curly asked, eye-ing Roxie up and down. There were only two female campers enrolled at Creepy Time—or at least there used to be, before they disappeared—and this girl wasn’t one of them.
“Sit there and keep quiet,” Roxie ordered. She turned around to let Einstein know that the coast was clear. “You can come out now, Fleet. Your plan worked like a charm.”
“A little help would be appreciated, comrade,” Einstein grunted as he tried to pry himself free. “I seem to be stuck.”
Greeley levitated the cot a couple of feet off the floor and Einstein backed out from his hidey-hole. He picked himself up and dusted the soot from his shirt. He noticed the smirk on Curly’s face. “What’s so funny?”
“You’re looking a little furrier than the last time I saw you,” Curly snickered. “Let’s hear a good howl!”
“You want to hear me howl?” Einstein said. “Fix some lunch.”
Roxie flipped the setting on the ray gun from stun to kill and pointed it at the cook. “Where’s the antidote to the salt tablets?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the cook said nervously.
Roxie fired a shot above his head and blew a hole in the wall.
“I don’t know!” Curly screamed.
“You think he’s telling the truth?” Einstein whispered in Roxie’s ear.
Roxie nodded.
“Looks like it’s your turn at bat,” Einstein said to Greeley. Before Curly could say boo, the ghost entered his body. The cook’s eyes went blank. He tried to speak but could not seem
1 10 to form words. This was the part of the plan that no one was sure would work. The ghost was certainly capable of posses-sion, but the problem was that he had never done it before. It was unexplored territory, in more ways than one.
“You in there, Greeley?” Einstein asked.
“It ain’t Whistler’s mother,” the ghost replied.
“How do you feel?”
“Claustrophobic,” he replied. “It’s crowded in here. Maybe I
should have possessed Nurse Knockwurst instead.” “It’s too late for that,” Roxie said. The red truck pulled up
next to the cottage and honked the horn. The flatbed was
loaded with mummies. She handed the ghost the canteen and
the carton of spiked Twinkies. “It’s showtime, Greeley.” “Good luck, comrade,” Einstein said as the ghost waddled
toward the door, the chair still attached to his rear. “I’m not your comrade,” Curly said, sneering at Einstein.
Suddenly, the cook slapped himself across the face and apol-
ogized.
“Ignore him, Houdini,” the ghost replied. “He’s a jerk.” Greeley and Curly seemed to be wrestling for control of the
cook’s body. Roxie and Einstein watched them walk toward
the truck, praying that Greeley could dominate Curly long
enough for the plan to have a chance to work.
“What happened to you?” Bucky shouted, doing his best
not to laugh.
“The kid booby-trapped the place and left a glue bomb on
the chair,” Greeley replied. He looked down at the carton he
was holding. “I got even and stole the last of his Twinkies.” “We could use them for bait,” Nurse Knockwurst
suggested.
“Let’s eat them instead,” Greeley replied. “It will drive the
kid nuts.”
Bucky pointed at the chair and laughed. “You need some
help with that?”
“All I can get, sonny,” Greeley replied, catching his mistake
immediately. He noticed the sideways glance that Bucky shot
at the nurse.
Nurse Knockwurst locked her arms around Curly’s neck
while Bucky pulled on his legs.
“Are you two crazy?” Curly screamed, his pain forcing Gree-
ley out.
“You want help or not?” Bucky grunted, pulling harder.
“Make up your mind.”
Nurse Knockwurst didn’t wait for a reply. She tightened the
choke hold around the cook’s neck and pulled with all her
might. Bucky grabbed hold of the chair and pulled in the op-
posite direction. Curly felt like he was being stretched on the
rack. He could feel the ligaments in his body stretching and
cried out in pain. Bucky and Nurse Knockwurst took that as
a good sign that they were making progress and pulled even
that my neck or my legs?”
“It was your pants,” Nurse Knockwurst informed him. He
noticed that she was staring.
“I see London. I see France. I see Curly’s underpants.” Greeley took control and covered Curly’s rear end with the
11 box of Twinkies. It was one thing to get caught with your pants down, but it was another to be caught wearing heart-covered silk boxers. Even the ghost was embarrassed for the cook.
“Let’s get these campers to the barn before they come to and cause trouble,” Bucky said as he followed Curly to the truck. “After we load them and the others, we have less than twenty-four hours and we’re out of here. You ask me, it’s not a moment too soon,” he whispered, casting a glance at Nurse Knockwurst.
“I’ll whip up something special for dinner to celebrate,” Greeley replied.
“How about a nice worm potpie?” Bucky asked as he got in
the truck. He looked at Curly and laughed. “By the way, I forgot
to tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
“Love your undies.”
Cha p te r
T
Day Seven — 1:59 P.M. he camp should be around here somewhere,” Norman said, pointing at the map. He slammed on the brakes of his dust- covered Volvo and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the highway. There was nothing but empty desert for as far as the eye could see. Norman picked up the map and studied it again, for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. “Either these direc-tions stink or I copied down the address wrong.”
“Why can’t you just admit that you’re lost?” Shirley Fleet asked. After three hours on the road, her nerves were starting to fray.
“I’m not lost,” Norman grumbled. “You’re kidding me, right?” Shirley rolled her eyes to empha-size the point. “Why don’t you ask someone for directions?”
“Who would you like me to ask?” Norman replied, his tone thick with sarcasm. “The cactus over there?”
Shirley gave him the look.
“Hello, Mr. Cactus,” Norman shouted out the window. “How do I find Camp Creepy Time? You don’t know? Well, thanks anyway. Wait a minute, there’s a scorpion! Maybe he knows.”
“Why don’t you just go back to the gas station that we passed a few miles ago and ask them for directions?” Shirley snapped at her husband. “Would you please roll up your win-dow while you’re at it? It’s like an oven in here.”
“Fine,” Norman said as he rolled up the window. He made a U-turn and headed back in the opposite direction. “We need to get some gas anyway.”
They drove the three miles back to the filling station with-out saying another word to each other. Norman pulled the Volvo up to the pump as a freckle-faced teenager approached the vehicle.
“What will it be, mister?” the grease monkey asked as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a dirty rag, leaving a black oily trail across his forehead.
“I need gas and directions,” Norman replied. He handed the map to the gas attendant and pointed to the address. “We’re looking for Creepy Time.”
The boy looked at the map and scratched his head.
“It’s a summer camp,” Shirley added.
“Never heard of it,” he replied, “but you came to the right place.” He pointed to the convenience store behind the gas station. The numbers stenciled across the top of the door were the same as those on the map. “You sure about that address?”
“No, not entirely,” Norman replied, wishing he had not left the brochure behind. He could feel his wife’s staring eyes burn-ing a hole in the back of his head. “Is there anyone else around who may know where to find the camp?”
“You can go talk to old man Warner if you want.” The boy shrugged. “He owns the store.”
“Fill her up and check the oil,” Norman said. “We’ll be right back.”
The convenience store was cluttered with the normal array of items one would expect to find and some that one would not. Shirley noticed a baby’s rattle made from the tail end of a real rattlesnake. She picked it up and gave it a good shake, scaring Norman half to death.
“If you break it, you buy it.” The warning came from the man standing behind the counter, which was just as cluttered as the rest of the store. The man was so short that all Nor-man could see was the top of his balding head peeking over the counter.
“Are you Mr. Warner?” Norman asked.
“I’m Warner,” the old man replied. “What’s it to you?”
“We’re lost and that nice young man pumping our gas thought you may be able to help,” Shirley explained. “Do you know how to get to a camp called Creepy Time?”
“Never heard of it,” the old man replied.
“Are there any other summer camps around here?” Norman asked, deciding to take a different approach.
Warner scratched his head and gave the matter some thought, then snapped his bony fingers together. “Come to think of it, there was a camp—but I can’t remember the name. An old-timer named Greeley used to run the place.”
Norman and Shirley exchanged a smile at the mention of Greeley’s name. At last they were getting somewhere.
“What’s so funny?” Warner asked.
“I’m sorry,” Norman replied. “We’re just relieved. Our
15
son mentioned Greeley in one of his letters. Is he a friend of yours?” Now it was Warner’s turn to laugh. “I called him an old- timer, because that’s what he was when I opened this place.”
“Was?” Shirley asked.
“Greeley died over forty years ago,” Warner explained. “Big scandal as I recall. Lot of campers went missing. The police suspected Greeley was involved and tried to get to the bottom of it, but they never got very far. A couple of years after the incident, he died. The case was closed and the campers were never found.”
Norman and Shirley stared at each other in a state of shock. Norman tried to say something, but was unable to speak.
“What’s wrong?” the old man asked. “You two look pale as a ghost.”
The Fleets flew
out of the store without bothering to say good-bye and ran as fast as they could toward their car.
“Einstein was telling the truth and we didn’t believe him!” Shirley sobbed, trying to keep up with Norman. “What are we going to do?”
“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” Norman shouted back. “We’re going to find the nearest town and talk to the police.”
As soon as they were in the car, Shirley picked up the map. Norman grabbed it and crumpled it into a ball. “Just ask the kid for directions,” he said as he turned over the ignition.
“How far to the sheriff’s office?” Shirley screamed out the window.
“You have to go to Saugus,” the boy replied. “Take a right out of the station and keep going straight. It’s about thirty miles down the road.”
Norman peeled out of the station, leaving a trail of burning rubber behind as he fishtailed out of the driveway and onto the main road.
“Hey, mister!” the grease monkey shouted at the rear end of the Volvo. “You forgot to pay for the gas!”