Little Shop of Hamsters

by R. L. Stine

  Dazed, I tried to shake off the dizziness.

  He head-butted me again. The creature was panting loudly. His hot breath poured over me. He came at me again. My head throbbed. The room — so tiny … so far below me … It all began to spin.

  I let out a choked gasp as the big creature’s head bulled into my stomach.

  I struggled to suck in air. But my chest burned like fire. My lungs weren’t working right.

  The hamster lowered his head. He was about to charge in for the kill.

  One more head butt would finish me.

  I saw him coming … full speed.

  He dove at me, head down.

  And I dodged to the side.

  CRAAAACK.

  The hamster uttered a weak groan as his head slammed hard into the wall.

  His black eyes rolled back in his head — and he fell on top of me.

  I collapsed in a heap beneath him.

  He covered me like a heavy blanket. I could hear the giant hamster wheezing above me.

  He pressed his enormous body over me. Pressed down with all his massive weight.

  Crushed me beneath him. Smothered me. Smothered me …

  My chest ached and throbbed. My lungs felt ready to explode.

  With a last burst of strength, I pressed both hands on his massive chest — and pushed. Pushed …

  I shoved the hulking creature off me and rolled on top of him. I straddled him with my legs.

  He didn’t fight back. He didn’t try to get up.

  I sucked in breath after breath. And suddenly felt the creature move beneath me.

  “Yessss!” My cry came out weak but happy.

  I knew what was happening. The monster hamster was shrinking. Shrinking back to his own size.

  I remembered the Insta-Gro Pet on our dining room table. It stayed huge for only a few minutes.

  And now the Insta-Gro Pet was wearing off. The hamster was shrinking.

  He was the size of a dog now … the size of a squirrel … hamster size!

  I sat up. Grabbed him — and lifted him between my two enormous fingers.

  He snarled and tried to swipe his claws at me.

  But I tossed him easily back into the open cage.

  I climbed unsteadily to my feet. I still felt dizzy. I had to duck my head so it wouldn’t hit the ceiling.

  I took another breath. I could still feel the damp, hot fur of the giant hamster on my chest, smothering me.

  “Ohhhh!” I uttered a cry as I felt myself start to fall.

  So dizzy. I grabbed my head with both hands.

  I bent my knees, struggling to stop from tumbling over.

  What was happening?

  The floor came flying up to meet me!

  The whole shop was moving crazily. I shut my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the dizzying rush.

  My knees folded again. My legs quivered from side to side.

  My body felt as if somebody had grabbed both ends and was squeezing me like an accordion!

  But I didn’t go down. I stayed on my feet as everything around me rose and fell.

  It took me so long to realize that I was shrinking!

  I heard a cracking sound. Was that my BONES?

  My stomach heaved up into my throat. My legs bent and buckled.

  A powerful force pressed down on me. I could feel my head sinking into my neck.

  “Ohhhhh.”

  Did that moan come from me?

  Still holding my head in both hands, I opened my eyes. I blinked several more times.

  My arms and legs twitched. My feet were tucked back into my ripped shoes. My T-shirt lay in shreds on the floor.

  But I was me again. The right size.

  I hugged myself tightly, trying to stop my twitches and shakes. I was back. Back!

  I heard an angry growl.

  I glanced into the cage. Hamsters were growling and baring their teeth again.

  The cage door was gone. They moved toward the opening.

  I spotted a big sheet of wood against the wall. I grabbed it and leaned it against the cage opening.

  “Thank goodness Fitz didn’t see any of this!” I said out loud.

  And then I heard footsteps on the basement stairs. And Mr. Fitz appeared in the doorway.

  He stood there with his arms crossed in front of him. He looked at the cage. Then stared at me. Just stared, with the strangest expression on his face.

  “Mr. Fitz, I can explain!” I cried. “I can explain everything. It was the candy! The candy!”

  Finally, he moved. He stepped around the cage and came closer to me. He brushed his mustache with one hand as he stared at me.

  “I can explain,” I said. “It was the candy. I accidentally left my orange candy in the cage. They ate it all, Mr. Fitz. They ate all the candy. And it turned them mean!”

  His eyes narrowed. I held my breath and waited for him to react.

  I had ruined his hamsters, destroyed his shop. What was he going to do to me?

  To my surprise, a smile crossed his face. “That was FABULOUS!” he cried. “I got the whole thing on video!”

  I swallowed hard. “Excuse me?” I cried.

  Fitz pointed to a tiny camera over the counter. “I got it all on video. That was amazing, Sam.”

  “But — but —” I sputtered. What was amazing? Why was he so happy?

  I decided to try explaining to him again. “I’m so totally sorry about the candy,” I said.

  He laughed. His mustache bobbed up and down when he laughed.

  “You got it wrong, Sam,” he said. “It wasn’t the candy.”

  I squinted at him. “Huh?”

  “The candy didn’t turn the hamsters mean,” Fitz said. “It was the Vito-Vigor.”

  I opened my mouth but no sound came out. My brain was spinning. I struggled to understand what he was saying.

  “The Vito-Vigor water is actually an anger drink I’ve been testing,” Fitz said. “I’ve been giving it to them for weeks, waiting for it to work on them.”

  “You — you’ve been trying to turn the hamsters mean?” I stammered.

  He nodded. “Not just mean,” he said. “Vicious. I’ve been trying to turn them ferocious!”

  I shook my head. “But why would anyone want to buy a ferocious hamster?”

  Behind us, snarling hamsters threw themselves against the glass, trying to escape. Hamsters gnashed their teeth and clawed the cage wall.

  “I’ve been waiting so long,” Fitz said, watching the angry hamsters. “Waiting for the anger chemical to work on them.”

  He slapped me on the back. “This is a great day!” he cried. “Thank you, Sam. This is an important day!”

  The slap stung my skin. My back was covered with hamster bites and scratches.

  “I … I don’t get it,” I said. “Why do you want to take cute, cuddly hamsters and turn them vicious?” I asked again.

  “A dozen reasons,” Fitz said, grinning happily. “A dozen reasons — and they will all make me RICH!”

  I waited for him to go on.

  His grin grew wider. “Sam, can you imagine the excitement when I announce the WHWL?”

  “The what?” I cried.

  “The Worldwide Hamster Wrestling League,” Fitz said. “People will jam stadiums and arenas to watch ferocious hamsters battle. I’ll have TV contracts. All kinds of Angry Hamster T-shirts and jackets and caps and WHWL video games. It’s going to be HUGE!”

  “But, Mr. Fitz —” I started.

  He clamped a hand over my mouth. “And what about watchdogs, Sam? You know, a lot of people can’t afford to keep a dog. It’s very expensive. So they’ll want to buy a watch-hamster from me! A ferocious guard hamster to protect their houses!”

  He jumped up and down. “A fortune! I’m going to make a fortune selling guard hamsters! And, Sam, what about the US Army?” he cried.

  I took a step back. “The army?”

  He poked me in the chest with one finger. “You don’t think the military will be inter
ested in fierce fighter hamsters? Of course they will! Hamster soldiers can go where no humans can go. I’ll have whole squads of fighter hamsters in the army, Sam. Whole fighting squads! All mine! MINE!”

  He’s CRAZY! I told myself, taking another step back from him. He’s totally stark-raving NUTS!

  I grabbed the front door. “I … I’ve got to go,” I said. I pulled the door open.

  I took a step — and I felt his hand grab my shoulder and tug me back hard.

  “Don’t try to leave,” Fitz said, his voice lowered to a growl. “You’re not going anywhere, Sam.”

  He dragged me to the wall. His eyes burned into mine.

  “Let me go,” I said. “What do you want?”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Fitz said, “until you tell me the formula to make the hamster grow so enormous.”

  I swallowed. “Huh? Formula?”

  “I can turn them mean,” Fitz said. “But you know how to make them gigantic.”

  He pressed me against the wall with both hands. “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me how you did it. You’re not going anywhere till you show me how to do it.”

  He was breathing noisily. His chest heaved up and down. Sweat ran down his face.

  He’s totally crazy, I thought. I don’t want to tell him about the Insta-Gro Pets. Besides, I don’t have any left.

  “Tell me!” he insisted, his voice hoarse with excitement. “Tell me how you did it, Sam.”

  His eyes gleamed. “Can you imagine? An army of GIANT hamsters? Hundreds of them. As big as grown men? I could rule the WORLD with an army of giant hamsters! No one could defeat me! No one!”

  “Mr. Fitz,” I said softly, “you have to let me go.”

  “Not till you tell me the secret!” he cried. “I’ll put you in the hamster cage, Sam. How would you like to spend some time in there?”

  I gazed into the cage. Hamsters were snarling, snapping their jaws, frothing at the mouth.

  “Tell me the secret!” Fitz screamed. “Or I’ll put you in the cage!”

  The bell jangled. The front door swung open. Lexi came bouncing in. “Hi, everyone!” she called.

  Fitz turned to look at her.

  That was my chance. I pulled free of his grasp. I dove to the cage — and pulled off the sheet of wood that covered the opening.

  I tossed the wood away.

  Growling hamsters came bursting out. They leaped to the floor and began running in all directions.

  The front door was wide open. Two or three hamsters went darting out onto the sidewalk.

  “No! Stop them! Catch them!” Fitz shrieked.

  He began running in wild circles, pulling escaped hamsters up off the floor.

  Lexi turned to me. “Any way I can help?” she asked.

  “Help?” I cried. “Help? NOW you ask if you can help?”

  Fitz was down on the floor, covered in growling, snapping hamsters.

  I grabbed Lexi by the arm. “Let’s go. We’re out of here!”

  She pulled back. “But — but —”

  “I’ll explain later!” I cried. “Hurry! This is our chance!”

  We ran out of the shop. Ferocious, frothing hamsters were running up and down the street.

  I heard Fitz yelling behind us. “Come back! Come back! I need the formula!”

  Lexi and I took off running. We didn’t stop till we were a block from her house.

  We were both panting. I had a sharp pain in my side from running so hard.

  “We made it!” I cried happily. “We made it out of there! What a nightmare! But it’s over! It’s OVER!”

  Lexi mopped her forehead with her hand. “I’m so thirsty. I … wish I had a bottle of Vito-Vigor,” she moaned.

  “Oh, wow.” I squinted at her. “Vito-Vigor? Lexi, how much of that stuff did you drink?”

  She shrugged. “Just ten or twelve bottles. Why?”

  I started to answer her.

  But before I could utter a sound, Lexi opened her mouth in a hoarse cry. The cry became a bellowing roar.

  She slashed her fingernails in the air, clawing furiously. Then she leaped high — and threw herself on me, scratching and growling — and sank her teeth deep into my neck!

  I staggered home. The bite on my neck wasn’t as bad as I thought. I covered it with a Band-Aid.

  Of course, I was very worried about Lexi. I had pulled her to her house. But she kept clawing at me and trying to bite me.

  Her parents had to keep her on a leash for a while. Luckily, the anger juice wore off in a day or two.

  I slumped down on the edge of my bed. “I’ll never get a pet now,” I told myself. “But maybe I don’t want one.”

  This whole hamster thing turned me off pets. Besides, why did I need a pet when Noah was around? He was a perfect pet!

  I knew I had to change my clothes before my parents came home. I opened my closet door.

  “Huh?” I let out a gasp of panic when I saw the glow of light from the floor.

  Fire? Was my closet on fire?

  No. The glow was soft and yellow-green.

  I had dirty clothes strewn over the closet floor. I pulled away a shirt and a pair of cargo pants.

  And stared at the little Horror the HorrorLand shopkeeper had attached to my souvenir box. The Horror was gleaming, a steady light.

  I felt myself drawn to it. Pulled to it.

  “Whoa!” I tried to push back in the other direction. I tried to propel myself out of the closet.

  But the glowing Horror was like a powerful magnet. I couldn’t resist it.

  It pulled me closer … pulled me into the glowing yellow-green light. Pulled me … pulled hard.

  The closet walls vanished. My room disappeared.

  I sailed through the yellow-green glow. Sailed as if blown by a powerful wind. The glowing light formed soft tunnel walls. Soft and smooth.

  Suddenly, the light flashed. And went out.

  I felt myself land. My feet touched solid ground. I blinked in total darkness.

  And then the lights went back on. I saw shelves of weird objects and souvenirs.

  I knew where I was. I was back in HorrorLand. Back in that strange little shop. Chiller House.

  And Jonathan Chiller stood at the counter, smiling at me. Jonathan Chiller in his old-fashioned suit and vest, gazing at me through those square eyeglasses perched on the end of his long nose.

  “How — how did I get here?” I stammered.

  His smile didn’t change. “Welcome back, Sam,” he said in his croaky old man’s voice. His gold tooth gleamed.

  “You remember my name?”

  He nodded. “I hope you enjoyed your souvenirs,” he said. His smile faded. “Now it’s time for you to pay me back.”

  I felt a stab of fear run down my body. “Pay you back?”

  “Time to pay me back for all the fun you’ve had with your Insta-Gro Pets,” Chiller said.

  “But I didn’t have any fun!” I cried. “It was horrifying!”

  Chiller’s smile returned. “Don’t worry, Sam. The fun is just BEGINNING.”

  He raised his eyes and gazed over my head. “But first … we have to wait for the others!”

  I pulled my floppy blue cap down low on my forehead and gazed around Zombie Plaza. It was a hot, sunny day, and HorrorLand Theme Park was jammed with kids and families. “This is so awesome!” I said to my friend Ryan Chang. “Can you believe we finally made it here?” Ryan just nodded. He’s the quiet type. I could see my reflection in his round, silvery sunglasses. He never takes the sunglasses off.

  Ryan wore a black T-shirt and black cargo shorts. He always wears black. Ryan is the shortest, shrimpiest kid in our class, but he’s totally cool.

  “I think that’s the magic store over there,” I said, pointing across the plaza.

  And a harsh, croaky voice rasped in my ear: “Don’t point, Jessica. It’s not polite to point.”

  “Huh?” I spun around.

  No one there.

  I blinked. And
then I figured it out.

  Ryan laughed. “I got you.”

  “No way,” I said. I gave his shoulder a hard shove. “I knew it was you.”

  Ryan can throw his voice. So can I. We’re both really excellent ventriloquists. We’re into magic tricks, too.

  Ryan rubbed his shoulder. He straightened the shades over his eyes.

  “Pick on someone your own size, Jessica,” he muttered.

  That’s one of our little jokes since I’m nearly a foot taller than him. Ryan and I have a lot of little jokes. I guess it’s because we’ve lived next door to each other since we were three.

  We’re twelve now, and it’s like we’re brother and sister. Sometimes we fight like a brother and sister. And sometimes we drive our other friends crazy by constantly playing tricks on each other. But most of the time we’re cool together.

  My name is Jessica Bowen, and you’re probably wondering why Ryan and I are so into tricks and ventriloquism and stuff like that. Well, the answer is easy. My dad — sometimes known as The Amazing Billy Bowen — is a birthday party ventriloquist and magician.

  He does three or four birthday parties a week. He’s very popular. Sometimes he’s even on TV.

  Dad taught us how to throw our voices when we were five. Ryan and I used to put on magic shows when we were in second grade!

  And that’s why the magic shop was our first stop at HorrorLand.

  We took off across the plaza and almost ran into a green-and-purple food cart. The sign on the side read: CHIHUAHUA TENDERS. MADE WITH REAL CHIHUAHUA BITS!

  “That’s sick,” I said. We have two Chihuahuas at home named Abra and Cadabra. They are part of Dad’s magic act. He pulls them out of his coat sleeves. The dogs love it.

  The magic shop stood next to a big theater. In dark ghostly letters the marquee read: THE HAUNTED THEATER. MONDO THE MAGICAL — NOW APPEARING (AND DISAPPEARING)!

  “Awesome. Let’s see when the next show goes on,” I said.

  But Ryan was already hurrying into the shop.

  I pulled open the door, and two kids rushed out. One of them was holding a huge deck of cards. The other had one of those fake little guillotines in his hand. The kind where you put your finger in. Then you push down on the blade, and it looks like it slices off your finger.

  It’s a pretty good trick. I think Ryan and I learned it when we were four.