5
The Creature of the Gross Lagoon
“Greetings,” the creature said.
“Uh…” I managed.
A million thoughts were going through my head. What was this thing on my couch? Why was it on my couch? Was it dangerous? Do all weird creatures like Spongebob Squarepants? How much would a new couch cost?
The latter question because the monster currently plopped on the cushions that had frequently been my makeshift bed was technically naked, and I was technically dreading ever sitting or lying there again.
Oh, yeah, just flip the cushions, Abe, that’ll do it, you might say.
But you didn’t see the creature like I did. You didn’t see the slimy skin and the bumps and warts and expanding gills. Whatever coated this monster’s flesh would seep down through the cushions.
“The eyes,” Maddie whispered behind me. Zack was back there, too.
“Huh?” I asked, but then I looked up. My own eyes found the creature’s and I saw this was the same creature who’d been following us around that night. They were big, bulbous, and as bright yellow and round as a rising sun. I thought, for a second, that this creature might’ve been wearing a pair of light-up party glasses you often see people wearing on New Year’s Eve, but then the eyes blinked—not up and down like a human’s eyes, but sideways—with a sound like someone stepping through mud. The bright yellow disappeared then reappeared and stared back at us.
“Who are you?” I asked. I wish I could say I demanded, but this whole situation threw me for a loop and my voice was pretty quiet. “Slayer, come over here.”
The goblin shook his head and pointed at the screen.
“Damn, dude! Did you see Frannie pull her bazongas out?” a voice said from down the hallway. “They were like a pair of plump melons, man! Watermelons!”
“I know, bro! Superb spank-bank material!” another voice echoed.
Judging by their dialogue, I knew this to be the college students who lived directly across from me. They would probably handle seeing the creature a lot worse than we did. And we didn’t need any more unwanted attention on us tonight.
“Hey Abe!” one shouted. We were still standing in the threshold, clearly visible. I had to make a choice here: Go inside with this odd creature who’d broken into my apartment, or let the college bros see the monster sitting there in its birthday suit and possibly have one of them suffer a heart attack.
I stepped forward. Maddie and Zack—reluctantly—came with me. I closed the door, shut and locked it.
“That dude’s fuckin weird,” one of the college bros said. “Better to just leave him alone, you know?”
“Yeah, but I think he’s probably got some good weed. It always smells funny over there, bro,” the other college guy said.
I shrugged at Maddie, who’d been telling me I really needed to keep my apartment in better shape long before we ever converted it into Fright Squad’s offices. She was right, of course, but there was currently nothing I could do about it, especially now that the creature from the gross lagoon was rubbing his backside all over my couch.
Once I heard their door open and close, I figured it was safe to start grilling our greasy intruder. Just before I opened my mouth, though, Zack said, “It does smell in here, bro.”
“Thanks,” I said, neglecting to tell him he was often the cause of said foul smell, what with him constantly leaving unwashed cereal bowls half-full of milk everywhere and vomiting on my shower curtain. But this wasn’t the time.
“I come in peace,” the creature said, reminding us that there was a creature. “My name is Bondano, Fizzler Bondano.” It was hard not to notice that the creature’s introduction mimicked James Bond’s, at least partly in the name, certainly not in the delivery because his voice was quite timid and soft. This was odd, of course, considering the appearance of the monster.
“Uh, hi,” I said. “I’m—”
“You’re Abraham Crowley,” Fizzler Bondano said. I did note how odd of a name that was, believe me. He nodded his head in Zack and Maddie’s direction. “And you’re Madilyn Pepper and Zackary Murphy. You are infatuated with one another.” Fizzler Bondano tilted his head back and the two vertical slits that comprised his nostrils flared. “I can smell the hormones.”
“Should I be offended about that?” Zack asked me. “Like, violated or something?”
Maddie and I ignored this.
Slayer whined.
“Yes, I have not forgotten about you. You are Slayer, a goblin from the Scandinavian forests with a delectable taste in television shows.”
Slayer smiled, raised a hand for a high five. The creature blinked sideways at it.
“What are you?” I asked the creature.
Maddie hit me. “You can’t just go asking people what they are, Abe. That’s rude.”
“He did kinda break into my apartment,” I said.
“Not the point,” Maddie said.
“Well,” Zack whispered, leaning over, “is Mr. Fizzler even considered people?”
Maddie hit him, too.
“No, no,” Fizzler Bondano said. “I am not offended. To answer your question: I am a gasling.”
“Explains the smell,” Zack said, not bothering to lower his voice.
“Gasling?” Maddie said. “I’ve never heard of that. Have you guys?”
I racked my brain for an answer. There wasn’t one, but that wasn’t saying much. Most of the historical stuff I’d learned at the Academy had left my mind as soon as I stepped through the front doors and into my first patrolling job at BEAST.
Zack shook his head. “No, I haven’t, but he kinda looks like the thing from Creature from the Black Lagoon. What was it called?”
“The Gill-man,” I said. Good thing for my wealth of movie knowledge, huh?
“Yeah! That’s it!” Zack said.
“Ah, yes,” Fizzler said. “I know of the creature of which you speak. I daresay that I do, in fact, share traits with the Gill-man.”
Maddie was still holding her stake. I noticed and put my hand on hers, lowering it. She looked down, jumped at the sight. I think she had forgotten. I’m not saying we wouldn’t have to fight—there was still a good chance that would happen, I thought, but if we were going to fight Fizzler Bondano and live to tell about it, we’d need something much bigger than a weapon meant for a measly vampire. One look at Fizzler’s scaly flesh, which reminded me of a Komodo Dragon’s, and I knew not even my old sword I took to Perdition Cemetery would do the trick. Maybe a cannonball would, or a bazooka. Which, spoiler alert, we didn’t have either of those things.
I think Maddie understood this, too. She set the stake down on the TV stand.
The gasling smiled. He had a mouthful of sharp teeth that made a werewolf look like a puppy.
“Okay,” I said, “so you’re a gasling and your name is Fizzler Bondano, but that doesn’t tell me why you’ve broken into my apartment.”
“Or why you’ve been following us,” Maddie said.
Fizzler lifted up one leg and crossed it over the other. His feet were webbed and at each point, which I’m guessing would be called a toe, maybe, were long claws. Almost talon-like. Fizzler had these on his hands, too. One flick and he could’ve gutted us like fish.
Fizzler said, “That…well, I have a reasonably good explanation for that.”
“For following us or why you broke in?” I asked, glaring.
“Well…both,” Fizzler said. He patted the cushion next to him. The couch wasn’t very big and he was already taking up two of the three cushions.
There was no way we’d all fit, not to mention I didn’t really feel safe being in the same room as the gasling, let alone on the same piece of furniture.
“No, thanks,” I said. I sidestepped over to the kitchenette and pulled a couple of folding chairs out from between the fridge and the small pantry, never taking my eyes off of Fizzler Bondano. There were only two chairs. I took one and offered the other to Maddie because that was the gentlema
nly thing to do. She sat down, thanking me. All that separated us from the creature was my flimsy coffee table I got at Walmart, which was about two coffee cups away from collapsing.
Zack looked around. “Not cool, Abe,” he said.
I shrugged. “You can stand, or...” I looked over at Fizzler. He was still patting the cushion next to him.
Zack shook his head. “I’ll stand. Nothing personal,” he said to Fizzler.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and looked into the creature’s bright, yellow eyes. “Please explain, Mr. Bondano.”
It felt weird saying his name aloud.
“Yes, Abraham,” Fizzler answered. “I have been following you and watching you for a long time because your legend has spread far and wide.” I arched an eyebrow. Fizzler, noting my confusion, said, “Yes, even to the swamps beneath the Rodanian Mountains.”
“Rodanian Mountains?” I said. I had never heard of those. Now, I’ll admit I’m not well-versed in the subject of geography, but if there were monsters inhabiting the land then the place would’ve rang a bell. Yet it hadn’t.
“Yes. That is where we gaslings are from,” Fizzler said.
I looked to Maddie, then to Zack. They both looked as confused as I felt.
“Why haven’t we heard of you?” Maddie asked.
Fizzler’s smile waned. His yellow eyes dimmed, closing to slits. “Ah, well, I’m afraid that’s because there are but only a few of us left.”
Maddie nodded. “Makes sense,” she said, looking at me. “The Academy must’ve neglected telling us about them because they’re next to extinct.”
“Also they most likely neglected telling you of our kind because we are not dangerous,” Fizzler Bondano said.
One glimpse at the swamp creature on my couch and you’d probably start laughing. If danger had ever been encapsulated so purely, it was here in this gasling.
“Hence why there’s only a few of them left,” Zack said. He crossed his arms and glared at Fizzler. “Right?”
“Quite right, Mr. Murphy!” Fizzler said.
“Call me Zack. Mr. Murphy is my dad,” Zack said.
“Ah, sure thing, Call-Me-Zack,” Fizzler said.
Maddie chuckled, then quickly covered her mouth.
“Close enough,” Zack said. “Better than Mr. Murphy.”
Zack didn’t have a good relationship with his father. He was a drunk. A violent drunk. I’d seen Zack sporting a black eye before on more than one occasion. It was one of the reasons I thought he wore sunglasses all the time.
“Be lucky you have a father, Call-Me-Zack,” Fizzler said, like he was reading Zack’s mind. “My kind’s fathers are often eaten after mating.”
“Geez,” Maddie said, “that sounds tough.”
“It is quite tough, Ms. Pepper, soon to be, Mrs. Call-Me-Zack,” Fizzler said.
Both Maddie and Zack blushed at this, but otherwise let the comment go. Before an awkward silence could take hold of the room, I said, “Don’t the males put up a fight? Your kind, Fizzler, they seem…uh, quite strong.”
“The females are stronger, I’m afraid. We do not blame them for any violence toward their mates. It is a predisposed trait, one they cannot help. It is as natural as mating itself,” Fizzler answered. “However, we aren't destroyed every time we mate. I, myself, have had several sexual relationships that have ended in splooching rather than death, and though one might think the blame of us going extinct lies within our civil disputes between opposite sexes of our race, they are mistaken. We are going extinct because time and circumstance have made it so. And soon, I fear, outside forces will make that happen even sooner”
“What outside forces?” I asked, content to let the term splooching fly off into the same void that the comment of Mrs. Call-Me Zack had gone, but, unfortunately, Zack was ever-curious.
I didn’t get my question answered, either. Not yet, at least.
“Splooching?” he asked.
Fizzler’s eyes took on a yearning look as he stared at a spot just above our heads. I figured he was picturing the times he’d splooched with a female gasling, and I was glad that I couldn’t see whatever it was he was reminiscing about. “Ah, yes, splooching. It is akin to your kind’s cuddling.”
“Like spooning,” Zack said.
“Correct!” Fizzler said. “Correct indeed! The last sexual relationship I had ended in spooning, if you will, and we fell asleep in each other’s arms.”
Maddie smiled dreamily. She was a sucker for love stories and poetry. “What happened?” she asked. “To the female? Your mate?”
I think she was looking for a happy ending. But I could sense we weren’t going to get one.
Fizzler’s face went grim. Again, those sharp teeth bared. The gills on his neck flared along with his nostrils. “The Saber Corporation.”
I knew that name somehow, but I couldn’t place it.
“Which are what?” I asked.
“Which are why I have been following you, Abraham.”
“Abe,” I said, careful not to make the same mistake Zack had. I didn’t feel like correcting Fizzler every time he called me Call-Me-Abe.
“Right, Abe.”
“So why then? Why have you been following me?” I asked before the gasling could go off on another tangent about mating and splooching.
Fizzler stood up. He was so tall that his fish-like head almost brushed against the ceiling, which, by my estimation, was about eight feet above the floor. His shadow covered all three of us, shrouded us in darkness. My pulse did this thing that only comes whenever I’m sprinting or close to death. In my head, I was thinking: How could we be so stupid? He’s a monster. He’s gonna kill us and all we’ve got to defend ourselves with is a stake and a ghost in a freaking jar!
But Fizzler only had gotten up to pull a piece of paper out of…somewhere. Let’s just say he wasn’t wearing pants, which meant no back pockets. Maybe, I hoped, he had a natural pocket like a kangaroo or something. Who knew? Either way, I was pretty sure we didn’t want to know.
He handed me the bright green paper. I took it reflexively. It was as dry as a bone for which I was grateful for. Maddie and Zack crowded over my shoulder to see what was written on it.
I unfolded the paper and read the words written in big, black letters:
You are cordially invited to the 543rd annual Monster Games.
The Opening Ceremonies will be held on Thursday, January 3rd at the Saltwater Coliseum. Official competition starts, Friday January 4th and will continue through January 12th, with Closing Ceremonies held on January 13th.
Come one, come all!
Have a ball!
Sponsored by the Saber Corporation
“The Monster Games?” Zack said.
Fizzler nodded furiously. “The Saber Corporation and their terrible Monster Games. They want our land. They want us dead.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “And I don’t like it, but what’s this have to do with us?”
The gasling smiled brightly. “I needed to see you in action. I needed to see you were the, as you say, the real deal.”
I looked at the gasling blankly, expecting more. He gave it.
“Because, my friends,” Fizzler said, “our species needs saviors, and the Fright Squad is our best chance at being saved.”
The paper fell from my hand, floated lazily away.
6
The Monster Games
I, of course, had heard of the Monster Games. I think we all had. Even if I’d missed the day we went over the ancient and diabolically violent Games in the Academy, I still would’ve known about them. My father left behind a book with three chapters devoted to the Monster Games. One of the very few books I’d ever read.
This book, which I believe was called Monsters: Violence through the Ages but I could be wrong, had said the Games ended a long time ago, during America’s Civil War. The last place to hold the Games was somewhere in England. The winner had been a vampire named Vladimir Spires. I remember the pict
ure in the book. It was grainy, black and white, and looked almost like a painter’s rendition of an old-time photograph, but I remember the subject of the photo vividly. Vladimir Spires, the game’s victor, stood in a sea of black. He held the head of a troll that was so big he had to use two hands. The troll’s eyes were exposing whites and more of the same color of black liquid dribbled out from his mouth and around his severed spinal cord. On Vladimir Spire’s belt was a sword in a gleaming sheath, the hilt held jewels as big as the troll’s eyes. Vladimir wasn’t frowning like you would see in the photos back then. No, this vampire beamed. I guess it made sense because he’d survived an onslaught of tasks and bloodshed to become a champion of the Monster Games.
“The Monster Games was dismantled by the Council of Vitality in 1864,” Maddie said.
“Yes, it was,” Fizzler Bondano said. “However, the Games are very much alive now.”
“Okay,” I said, “let’s say you’re telling the truth. What do we have to do with it? Why do you need us to save you?”
“The Games are being held at the Rodanian Mountains. Do you not know where the Saltwater Coliseum is located?” Fizzler asked.
“No, I’m afraid not,” I said.
“It’s near our swamps, sadly, and the Games will destroy our habitat for good. We are already on the verge of extinction as it is. Unfortunately, a few weak and pacifist gaslings will be of no match to the Monster Games’ committee.”
“So,” Zack said, “I’m not seeing it. I’m not understanding why you need the Fright Squad as saviors. Sounds to me that you’re royally screwed no matter what.”
Maddie hit him and Zack winced. Fizzler thought this to be the funniest thing he’d ever seen. The unfortunate thing was that we had to hear his laughter, and his laughter was easily one of the worst things I’d ever heard. It was so loud and grating and deep, it had almost knocked me out of my folding chair.
“We need you because we have cut a deal with the Monster Games’ committee,” Fizzler said after he got control of himself. I couldn’t imagine what my neighbors were thinking after hearing his outburst.
The Monster Games Page 4