by R. L. Stine
13
Something jumped on my back!
A tiny, hairy face appeared in the mirror. Some kind of animal was standing on my shoulders!
“Get it off! Get it off!” I shrieked.
“Eeee! Eeee!” the animal screeched.
I ran into the hallway—and almost crashed into a huge man.
“Get this thing off me!” I cried.
The man plucked the animal off my shoulder. He laughed loud and deep, like an evil Santa Claus.
“What’s wrong with you, Matt?” he boomed. “Scared of Pansy all of a sudden?”
Pansy? The man cuddled the animal in his arms. It was a monkey.
The man roughed up my hair. “Get dressed, boy. We got a rehearsal this morning.”
Rehearsal? What was that supposed to mean?
I stared at the man. He was huge, with a round stomach, glossy black hair, and a long mustache.
The weirdest part was what he wore: a bright red costume with gold trim and a gold belt.
Oh, no! I thought, my heart sinking. This can’t be… my father?
From downstairs a woman’s voice screamed, “Grub!”
The man handed me a pile of clothes. “Put your costume on,” he said. “Then come on down to breakfast—son.”
I knew it. He was my father. For today, at least. My “family” kept getting worse every day.
“GRUUUUB!” the woman downstairs yelled again.
I guess that’s Mom, I thought miserably. She sounds like a real sweetheart.
Kids came pouring out of the other bedrooms. It seemed like there were dozens of them, all different ages. But I counted, and there were only six.
I tried to get all the new facts straight. I was eight years old. I had six brothers and sisters and a pet monkey. I hadn’t seen my mother yet, but my father was a total wacko.
And I’ve got to wear some kind of freaky costume, I thought, holding up the clothes the man had given me. It was a tight blue outfit, like a leotard. The bottom part was blue with white stripes. The top had white stars.
What was that supposed to be? And what kind of rehearsal did I have?
Was I in a play or something?
I pulled on the costume. It fit me like a second skin. I felt like a total jerk.
Then I went downstairs for breakfast.
The kitchen was a madhouse. The other kids laughed and shouted and threw food. Pansy hopped around on the table, stealing bits of bacon.
A tall, thin woman piled pancakes on plates. She wore a long, purple, sequined gown. A silver crown perched on top of her head.
My new mom.
“Hurry up and eat, Matt—before it’s all gone!” she shouted.
I grabbed a plate and started eating. I had to keep swatting Pansy away.
“Doesn’t Matt look cute in his little superhero suit?” a girl teased. She had to be one of my older sisters.
“Cute as a button,” a boy said sarcastically. He looked about two years older than me. He grabbed my cheek and pinched it—hard. Too hard. “Cute little Matt,” he sneered. “Big-shot star of the circus.”
The circus! I dropped my fork. Chills rippled down my back. Was I in the circus?
The dopey costumes. The monkey. It all made sense now.
I dropped my head into my hands. Matthew Amsterdam, circus boy. I almost wanted to cry.
I had the feeling my brother was jealous. As if he wanted to be the star of the stupid circus.
And he could be, for all I cared. I sure didn’t want to be the star of any circus.
“Leave Matt alone or he’ll get stage fright again,” the mother scolded.
I studied the rest of the family. Everyone was dressed in bright costumes. I was part of a circus family.
The pancakes sank to the pit of my stomach. I never liked the circus. Even when I was little, I hated it.
But now the circus was my life—and I was the star. Oh, goody.
“Rehearsal time!” the father cried. He put a black top hat on his head and cracked a whip on the stairs. “Let’s roll!”
We left our plates on the table and piled into a beat-up old van. Mom drove at about ninety miles an hour.
My brothers and sisters fought the whole way. One little girl kept pinching me. Another one punched me.
“Cut it out!” I snapped. Why couldn’t I wake up in a world with nice brothers and sisters?
The van chugged into a fairground and stopped in front of a big circus tent.
“Everybody out!” Dad ordered.
I jostled with my brothers and sisters to get out of the van. Then I followed them into the tent.
It was kind of awesome inside the tent. Other acts were already there, practicing. I saw a man on a high wire way up near the top of the tent. An elephant stood up on its hind legs and danced. Clowns rode around in dopey little cars, honking their horns.
I wonder what my act is? I thought. Two of my sisters scurried up a ladder and started practicing a trapeze routine.
I watched them, terrified. The trapeze! There was no way they could get me up there. No way.
Please don’t make me do a trapeze act, I prayed.
“Come on, Matt,” Dad said. “Let’s get to work.”
Not the trapeze. Not the trapeze, I prayed.
Dad led me away from the trapeze ladder. I began to relax. Whatever I had to do, it couldn’t be worse than swinging around on a trapeze. Right?
Wrong.
Dad led me to the back of the tent. I followed him through a maze of animal cages.
Dad strode up to one of the cages and opened the door.
“All right, son,” he bellowed. “Get in.”
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe my ears.
“G-g-g-get in?” I stuttered. “But—there’s a lion in that cage!”
The lion opened his huge jaws and roared. I backed away, shivering.
“Are you going to walk in?” Dad prodded me with the end of his whip. “Or do I have to push you?”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
So Dad pushed me into the lion’s cage—and shut the door.
14
I backed up against the cage wall. The cold steel bars pressed into my back. My legs were trembling so hard, I thought I would fall on my face.
The lion stared at me. He sniffed the air.
I’ve heard that animals can smell fear. This lion got a noseful.
My “father”—the lion tamer—stood beside me in the cage.
“We’re trying a new trick today, Matt,” he said. “You’re going to ride the lion.”
He might as well have punched me in the stomach. I was going to ride the lion?
Yeah. Right.
Some father this guy is, I thought. Feeding his own son to a lion.
The lion stood up. I kept my eyes on him. My whole body shook with fear.
ROOOAAAR!
The lion’s breath blew in my face like a hot wind. My hair stood on end.
The lion stepped toward us. Dad cracked his whip. “Ha!” he shouted.
The lion stepped back, licking his chops.
“Go on, boy,” Dad boomed at me. “Climb on Hercules’ back. Then slide up to his shoulders. I’ll crack the whip to make him walk around the cage.”
I couldn’t say a word. I just stared at the man in total disbelief.
“Why are you looking at me like that? You’re not afraid of Hercules, are you?”
“A-afraid?” I stammered. “Afraid” wasn’t the word. Petrified, maybe. Terrified, horrified, frozen with fear. But afraid? Nah.
He cracked his whip again. “No son of mine is a coward!” he shouted. “You get on that lion’s back—NOW!”
Then he leaned down and whispered, “Just watch that he doesn’t bite you. Remember your poor brother Tom. He’s still trying to learn how to write left-handed.”
He cracked the whip again—right at my feet.
I wasn’t going to ride the lion. No way.
And I couldn’t stay in that
cage another second.
Dad cracked his whip at me again. I jumped.
“Noooo!” I shrieked.
I tugged the cage door open. I ran out of that cage so fast, Dad hardly knew what happened.
I raced out of the tent. My brain screamed, “Hide! Find a hiding place—quick!”
I spotted a couple of trailers in the parking lot. I darted behind one—and bumped right into Lacie.
“You again!” I gasped. It was weird how she kept popping up.
“I’ve got to hide,” I told her. “I’m in trouble!”
“What’s wrong, Matt?” she asked.
“I’m about to become lion food!” I cried. “Help me!”
Lacie yanked on the trailer door. It was locked.
“Oh, no!” I groaned. “Look!”
I pointed past the trailer. Two guys were running toward us.
I’d seen them before. The two guys in black.
They were coming after me!
I ran. There was no place to go, no place to hide—except back inside the tent.
I burst through the tent flap. I tried to catch my breath while my eyes adjusted to the dark.
I heard one of the guys in black shout, “In there! He went inside the tent!”
I stumbled through the darkness, searching for a place to hide.
“Get him!” The boys were inside the tent now.
I ran blindly—right back into the lion’s cage.
15
I slammed the cage door shut. The guys in black gripped the steel bars and shook them.
“You won’t get away!” one shouted.
My “dad”, the lion tamer, was gone. I was alone in the cage—with Hercules.
“Easy, boy. Easy…” I murmured as I inched my way along the side of the cage. The lion stood in the center, eyeing me.
The two guys rattled the cage door again. It swung open. They stepped inside, glaring at me.
“You can’t escape that easily,” one of them warned.
The lion growled at them. “It’s just an old circus lion,” one guy said. “He won’t hurt us.”
But I could tell they weren’t as sure as they sounded.
Hercules growled again, louder this time. The two guys stopped.
I inched farther around the cage wall.
I had to put that lion between me and the guys in black. It was my only chance.
Carefully, one of the guys stepped forward. The lion roared at him.
He stepped back.
The lion’s eyes darted from the guys to me and back. I knew he was trying to decide who would make the tastier meal.
“You’d better get out of here,” I warned. “Hercules hasn’t been fed yet.”
The guys watched Hercules warily.
“He won’t attack me,” I bluffed. “I’m his master. But if I tell him to, he’ll go right for your throats!”
The guys glanced at each other. One of them said, “He’s lying.”
The other guy didn’t look so sure.
“I’m not lying,” I insisted. “Get out of here right now—or I’ll turn him on you!”
One guy made a move for the cage door. The other guy grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Don’t be chicken,” he snapped.
“Get them, Hercules!” I shouted. “Get them!”
Hercules let out his fiercest roar yet—and pounced.
The guys in black scurried out of the cage. They slammed the door as Hercules tried to bound out.
“You won’t get away!” one guy yelled through the bars. “We’ll be back!”
“Why do you want me?” I screamed after them. “What did I do? What did I do?”
16
Hercules didn’t really want to eat anybody. He just wanted to get out of the cage.
He didn’t try to stop me as I slipped out. I sneaked away to hide in the van until circus practice was over.
“Where were you all day?” Dad grumbled when he found me. Everyone else piled into the van, and we drove home.
“I felt sick,” I complained. “I had to lie down.”
“You’re going to learn that trick tomorrow, Matt,” Dad insisted. “You won’t get out of it again.”
I just yawned. I figured tomorrow would never come. At least not for my circus family.
Tomorrow would bring some new horror. Or maybe for once something good would happen.
I went to bed early that night. I didn’t like being an eight year old in a circus family. I couldn’t wait for it to be over.
My circus brothers were climbing the walls in my old room. I’d never get any sleep in there. So I crept off to sleep in the guest room again.
But I had trouble falling asleep. I couldn’t stop wondering what the next day would bring. It’s hard to relax when you don’t know what kind of world you’ll wake up to in the morning.
I tried counting sheep, but that never works for me. So I tried to think of all the good things that could happen when I woke up.
I could wake up as a major league baseball player. I could be the greatest pitcher in the history of baseball.
Or I could be a very, very rich kid who gets everything he wants.
Or I could be a space explorer five hundred years in the future.
Why didn’t anything like that ever happen to me?
Most of all, I wished I could wake up and find my family again. My real family. They drove me crazy. But at least I was used to them. I even missed them, a little bit.
Okay, a lot.
At last, just before dawn, I fell asleep.
It was still very early when I woke up. I gazed around the room. Everything seemed a little blurry.
Who am I now? I wondered. The room looked normal. I didn’t hear any noise, so I knew the circus family was gone.
Might as well get it over with, I decided. I jumped out of bed. I felt a little shaky on my legs.
I walked slowly into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror.
No. Oh, no.
This was the worst one yet. The worst ever. The worst possible!
17
I was an old man!
“No!” I screamed. I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran back to bed as fast as my rickety old legs would carry me.
I got under the covers and closed my eyes. I was going right back to sleep. I wasn’t about to spend the whole day as an old man. Not when I’m really only twelve.
I quickly dozed off. When I woke up, I knew right away I had changed. I wasn’t an old man anymore.
I felt a surge of energy. Power. I felt strong.
Maybe I’m a baseball player after all, I thought hopefully.
I rubbed my eyes. That’s when I caught a glimpse of my hand.
It—it was green. My skin was green. And instead of fingers, I had claws!
I swallowed hard. I tried to shake away my panic.
What had happened to me this time?
I didn’t waste a second finding out. I lumbered to the bathroom mirror.
When I saw my face, I let out a roar of horror and disgust.
I had become a monster. A hideous, gross monster.
18
I tried to scream. I tried to shout, “This can’t be happening to me!”
But all that came out was a terrifying snarl.
No! I thought, in a total panic. I felt like tearing my horrible skin off. I was a hideous monster—and I couldn’t even talk!
I was big—almost seven feet tall—and powerful. My skin was a scaly green with black stripes, like a lizard. I oozed slime all over.
My head looked like a dinosaur’s, with warts all over it. Three spiky horns stuck out of the top of my head, between four pointy ears.
My hands and feet had sharp claws. My toenails clicked on the bathroom floor when I walked.
I was one ugly, ugly dude.
I wished I’d stayed an old man. Each time I woke up, my life got worse! When was this ever going to end? How could I make it stop?
I thought about Lacie. She seemed to pop up
no matter where I went.
And she had tried to help me escape from those guys in black, I remembered. She wants to help me.
I’ve got to find her, I decided. I know she’s out there somewhere.
She’s my only chance.
I staggered through the house in my monster body. The house was empty. At least I didn’t have a family to deal with. A family full of monsters would have been a real nightmare!
I had to be grateful for the little things. Especially when I had green skin and spikes growing out of my head.
I lumbered out the door and down the street. I tried to shout, “Lacie! Lacie, where are you!”
But my mouth couldn’t make the words. All that came out was a booming, terrifying roar.
A car driving down the street stopped suddenly. The driver gaped at me through the windshield.
“Don’t be afraid!” I cried. But that’s not what came out. Another roar ripped through the air.
The man screamed and backed his car down the street at full speed. He crashed into another car.
I went over to see if anyone was hurt. A woman and her kid were in the other car.
They must have been all right. Because as soon as they saw me, they all jumped out of their cars and ran away, screaming their heads off.
My giant lizard feet carried me to the center of town. I smashed through bushes, kicked garbage cans over. People screamed in terror as soon as they saw me.
Lacie, I thought. I’ve got to find Lacie.
I tried to keep this thought in my head. But I was getting hungry. Very, very hungry.
Normally I like peanut butter and jelly for a snack. But that day I had a strong craving for metal. A nice, big, crunchy hunk of metal.
The town was in a panic. People raced around, shrieking as if it were the end of the world.
But I wasn’t going to hurt anybody. All I wanted was a little snack.
I stepped in front of a tasty-looking compact car. The driver slammed on the brakes.
ROOAARR! I beat my chest with my powerful monster arms.
The driver cowered in the car. I reached out and snatched off a windshield wiper. Just for a taste.