Camp Daze

by R. L. Stine

  Brooke did a double cartwheel and landed facedown in the dirt.

  It was maybe the worst cheer in history. It didn’t even rhyme. But we helped Brooke to her feet and brushed her off.

  We were all so happy we wouldn’t starve.

  “Uh . . . One more thing,” Adam Bomb told Uncle Cousin. “Something bad happened.”

  The camp owner squinted at Adam. “Bad? How bad?”

  Adam nodded. “Well, an eagle picked up Luke Puke and flew off with him.”

  Uncle Cousin slapped his own forehead. “Oh, wow,” he said. “I meant to warn you about eagles.” He motioned us to the mess hall door. “Well, there’s not much we can do now. Might as well bring the food to Chef Indy. There’s more for all of us. Let’s eat!”

  Before we could step into the mess hall, I saw something in the sky. A black speck, and it was moving toward us.

  I pointed. “Look, everyone!”

  The speck flew closer and I could see what it was.

  An eagle.

  It swooped lower, and its shadow rolled across the ground. Then it raised its wings—and dropped Luke Puke.

  “WHOOOOA!” we all shouted as Luke came falling down.

  Luke fell fast—screaming all the way and flapping his arms frantically as if he could fly or slow his fall.

  SPLAAAAAAT.

  Luke landed on top of Pat Splat, who saved his life.

  We all cheered. And were happy to see Luke again.

  “What did I miss?” he asked. Then he leaned over and did his thing. If Luke were a superhero, puking would be his superpower.

  Pat Splat was very flat. Adam Bomb and Rob Slob volunteered to carry him to the medical cabin. The nurse wasn’t there, so they slid Pat under the door and left a note. Then we all went in to eat.

  After lunch, Wacky Jackie set her laptop up on a table in the corner. She and Junkfood John sat down in front of it, and the rest of us gathered around.

  Jackie had downloaded some episodes of their favorite TV show.

  Jonny Pantsfalldown.

  With his Pants of Steel, Jonny Pantsfalldown fights criminals courageously. His only problem as a superhero? You might be able to guess it from his name.

  Jackie clicked on an episode, and we all huddled close to watch.

  JONNY PANTSFALLDOWN

  Favorite TV superhero of Wacky Jackie and Junkfood John Episode 457

  Hold on to your pants, everyone! And keep your belt buckled tight for adventure! It’s time for another action-packed thriller featuring Jonny Pantsfalldown, told by me, the World’s Greatest Sidekick—THE MIGHTY HAIRBALL!

  “I will never let you—or my pants—down.”

  That’s what Jonny Pantsfalldown promised the good people of Pupick Falls. And he always tries to keep most of his promises.

  Every night, after a healthy dinner of fish parts and broccoli tips, Jonny puts on his cape, his mask, and his world-famous Pants of Steel. Then, side by side with me—the Mighty Hairball—he ventures out to fight crime with his bold battle cry:

  “YODEL-AY-EEE-OOOO!”

  Tonight, Jonny was nearly dressed when I entered his private three-room dressing pit. “Looking good, Jonny,” I greeted him. “But if I may make one suggestion . . .”

  Jonny turned to me with his bold X-ray eyes and X-ray nose. “Yes?”

  I pointed to his snug-fitting costume. “The cape should go on the back—not the front,” I told him.

  “No wonder I keep falling on my face!” the great superhero exclaimed. “Hairball, where would I be without you?”

  “All good sidekicks go to fashion school,” I said. “That’s how I know where your cape should go.”

  I helped Jonny tug his cape around to the back. He choked a little (sometimes he ties it a little too tight).

  “Are you ready?” he boomed. Jonny has a powerful, deep voice—like thunder. Sometimes it makes your ears bleed.

  “Just about,” I replied. “I’m having a bit of a problem pulling on my new ostrich-feather gloves.”

  “Are they too tight?” Jonny asked.

  I shook my head. “No. That’s not the problem. You know that I have two left hands. Sometimes it makes it hard to get my gloves on.”

  “A hand in the bush is worth two in the gloves,” Jonny said.

  I didn’t understand what he meant (sometimes Jonny is just too smart for me).

  He straightened his Pants of Steel. “Hairball, did you bring the thumb tacks I asked you for?”

  I mopped the blood from my ears with the back of my glove. “Thumb tacks?”

  Jonny frowned at me. “Yes, thumb tacks. I was going to pin my Pants of Steel to my body so they don’t fall down anymore.”

  “Sorry, Jonny. I forgot them,” I said. “I may be the greatest sidekick in history, but I guess I’m not perfect.”

  “You can say that again!”

  So I did. “I may be the greatest sidekick in history, but I guess I’m not perfect.”

  Jonny grumbled under his breath. “I didn’t really mean for you to say it again,” he muttered.

  “Say it again?” I asked. “I may be the greatest sidekick in history, but I guess I’m not perfect.”

  Jonny gritted his teeth. “No, please don’t say it again!” he cried.

  “Again?” I said. “I may be the greatest sidekick in history, but I guess I’m not perfect.”

  Jonny scowled at me. “Hairball, when was the last time you had your ears examined?” he asked.

  “Deer salmon?” I replied.

  Jonny shook his fists in the air.

  Then I realized why I couldn’t hear him. I had my fur-lined, six-inch-thick brass helmet down over my ears.

  I started to pull, but I couldn’t get it to slide off my head. I was trapped inside my own helmet.

  Maybe I can use a can opener later, I thought. Or maybe I can get the Pupick Falls fire department and they can help pull my helmet off.

  In the meantime, Jonny and I had crime to fight.

  “What criminal are we chasing tonight?” I asked.

  “Tonight, we will be bringing down the Silver Swine,” Jonny said.

  “The Silver Swine?” I said. “He sounds dangerous.”

  “Danger is my middle name!” Jonny boomed.

  I blinked. “I thought your middle name was Aloysius.”

  “We must hurry,” Jonny said. “The Silver Swine plans to act tonight.”

  “What does the Swine plan to do?” I asked.

  Beneath his helmet, I saw Jonny frown. “He has been collecting garbage and slops and disgusting waste matter for weeks. He plans to turn the entire town of Pupick Falls into a giant pigsty!”

  “Oh no!” I gasped.

  “Don’t worry,” Jonny said. “The glorious town of Pupick Falls will not become a pigsty—not on my watch!”

  “Let’s get going!” I cried. “By the way, how do we find the Silver Swine?”

  “He’s easy to find,” Jonny replied. “He’s a total pig.”

  JONNY PANTSFALLDOWN CONTINUED . . .

  Since I’m the world’s greatest sidekick (although I’m not perfect), I led the way. I lowered my head, sprang into the air, and flew out the front window.

  “OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!”

  Why can’t I ever remember to open the window first?

  When the agonizing pain faded and I stopped seeing double, I tugged the window open. Jonny and I then leapt—carefully—out into the night sky.

  “YODEL-AY-EEE-OOOO!”

  Johnny uttered his famous battle cry.

  I gazed down at the ground below us. “Wow, I never get tired of flying,” I said to Jonny Pantsfalldown. “Look at the people way down there. They look like ants!”

  “They are ants,” Jonny replied. “We need to fly a little higher.”

  We were nearly to town when a putrid odor hit us both. The stench was so strong, we dropped from the sky.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have had beans for dinner!” I cried.

  Jonny shook his head
. “The Silver Swine has already begun his evil work,” he said. “Look over there, Hairball. The Swine has flooded Main Street with pig slops and garbage. It’s two feet deep!”

  The smell was making my head spin.

  “If we don’t act fast,” Jonny said, “the whole town of Pupick Falls will only be fit for hogs.”

  “We must find the Silver Swine,” I said, struggling to breathe. “Is that him over there?” I pointed.

  “Yes!” Jonny cried. “That’s him—in person!”

  Jonny had described the Silver Swine perfectly. He was a pig. An actual pig! And he must have weighed at least three hundred pounds. He wore a pink superhero cape and nothing else.

  As Jonny and I strode toward him, the evil Swine started to grunt. A smile slowly crossed his snout.

  “Are you proud of your work?” Johnny shouted at him. “Well, don’t be. Your work stinks! And I’m coming for you!”

  “Please hurry,” I said. “The smell is so bad, I can taste it!”

  “YODEL-AY-EEE-OOOO!”

  Jonny let out his world-famous battle cry—and took off running after the Silver Swine.

  The huge pig swung around and started to run.

  “You’ll never get away!” Jonny called after it. “You’re too big to run far!”

  The Swine grunted and trotted away. But Jonny was closing in, running up close behind the evil villain.

  And then . . . Jonny’s Pants of Steel started to slip. The pants dropped to his thighs and then slid around his knees.

  If only I had remembered the thumb tacks!

  SPLOOOOOOSH.

  Johnny fell face-first into the thick muck. He landed hard, sending up a wave of pig slop and waste and garbage. He disappeared under the surface for a while, then came up spluttering and choking, wiping the gunk off his face and helmet.

  I watched in horror as the Silver Swine bounced around a corner and disappeared.

  Jonny shook his fist in the air. “I’ll get you next time, Swine!” he cried, spitting out mud. “No pig can do this to Pupick Falls. I’ll get you—or my name isn’t Jonny Pantsfalldown!”

  That’s our thrilling adventure for today, boys and girls. Until next time, this is the Mighty Hairball saying: “Keep your pants up—and reach for the stars!”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Adam Bomb here to tell you about our exciting next day at camp.

  Morning sports activity was horseback riding, and we were totally pumped. “I always wanted to learn how to handle a horse,” I said as we headed out of our cabin.

  “I don’t want to handle the horse,” Cranky Frankie said. “I just want to ride it.”

  “Hey, guys—!” Nervous Rex called to us from the cabin. “Good luck. Remember, if you fall off your horse, try not to land on your head!”

  “Good advice!” Cranky Frankie shouted back. “Is that what happened to you?”

  That morning, Rex told us he could never get on a horse because he’s allergic to big nostrils.

  “I fell off a horse once and I did land on my head,” Pat Splat said. “Wow, was I embarrassed—I was on a merry-go-round!”

  “I was on a merry-go-round once,” Rob Slob said. “But I didn’t enjoy it. I couldn’t get the horse to stop going around in circles.”

  Up ahead, I saw that the girls had already arrived at the horse barn. Patty and Peter Perfect were standing off to one side. They were wearing riding outfits, funny-looking pants, little jackets, and boots that came all the way up their legs. And they each carried a riding crop that looked like a small whip.

  They snapped their whips as we walked past, and then they burst out laughing. I guess they thought that was some kind of funny joke.

  Luke Puke pinched his nose. “Ooh, gross. Why do you two smell so bad?” he asked the Perfects.

  “We poured horse sweat all over our clothes so the horse would be friendly to us,” Patty replied.

  Luke squinted at them. “Horse sweat? Where did you get horse sweat?”

  “We brought it from home,” Peter answered.

  “We like to be perfectly prepared,” Patty added. “We saved some bottles just in case we ever rode a horse.”

  Brainy Janey was giving a talk about the history of horses. “The Palamoosa was the earliest known horse,” Janey said. “A herd of Palamoosa were discovered running free on a beach in Montana. At least, that’s what I read in the Wackipedia.”

  “When did they discover these horses?” Wacky Jackie asked her.

  “It was in 1955,” Janey said. “Before that, people only dreamed of horses.”

  Nasty Nancy rolled her eyes. “That can’t be right,” she said. “Who pulled the covered wagons across the west? Wasn’t it horses?”

  “That’s only in the movies,” Janey explained to her. “Who are you going to believe—me or the movies?”

  “You should never argue with Brainy Janey,” Wacky Jackie said. “She’s so smart, she learned how to sleep-read.”

  “Scientists still have one big question about horses,” Janey continued. “When it comes to the Mustang—which came first? The car or the horse?”

  We didn’t have time to think about that. Head Counselor Mama was stomping out from around the horse barn, and her big biker boots were pounding the ground. She was swinging her cane in front of her as she strode toward us.

  “Are you dumb cluck-clucks ready to mount up and ride?” she shouted.

  “Yessss!” Pat Splat exclaimed enthusiastically.

  Mama swung her cane and smacked him on the back of the head.

  SPLAAAAAAT.

  “Don’t speak when I speak to you!” she cried. “That wasn’t a question you were supposed to answer, you nit-nit!”

  “S-sorry,” Pat stammered, rubbing the back of his head.

  “Now listen up, dodos!” Mama said, eyeing us one at a time. “I’m only going to say this once. And then I’m going to repeat it and repeat it.”

  “I don’t get that,” Wacky Jackie said.

  Mama let out an angry cry and swung her cane at Wacky Jackie.

  Jackie ducked, and the cane smacked Pat Splat in the gut.

  “OWWWWW.” Pat grabbed his belly and went down on his hands and knees.

  “Show some respect!” Mama cried. “I only yell because I care!”

  None of us dared say anything to that.

  Mama spiked the cane into the ground between her biker boots and leaned on it. “Now listen up, freakanoids. I don’t want to see any more violence. Understand?”

  “But—” I started, but quickly stopped myself.

  “If I see any more cane swinging,” Mama continued, “I’ll have to punish you all.”

  We all stared at her in terrified silence.

  “If you get five demerits,” Mama said, “you are no longer in the running to be Camp Champ.”

  More terrified silence.

  Mama swept a hand through her purple hair. “I have an announcement to make,” she said. “I know the camp promised horseback riding for everyone. But the horse died last summer.”

  We groaned in disappointment.

  “But, no worries,” Mama said. “Camp Lemme-Owttahere keeps its promises. We are all going air horseback riding this morning.”

  She raised her cane in the air and waited for one of us to say something. But we all just stared at her, and no one made a sound. Except for Rob Slob, who burped.

  Mama shot him a dirty look. “Listen to me, chick-chicks,” she said. “Air horseback riding can be a blast—if you follow the rules and learn how to ride correctly. It’s a skill, just like falling off a bike.”

  Mama frowned and shook her head. “Speaking of that, last summer, two dum-diddies fell off their air horses. And it wasn’t pretty. So listen to Mama. Don’t put the air horse before the air cart. Keep your air horses at a trot and don’t ride recklessly.”

  Babbling Brooke raised her hand. “Do we each get our own air horse?” she asked.

  Mama nodded. “The camp has generously decided to give each
of you your own air horse.”

  Brooke clapped her hands. “Yaaay. I’m going to name mine Ginger!” she exclaimed.

  “Why are you naming him Ginger?” I asked her.

  “Because that’s his name,” she replied.

  Mama pressed her fists against the sides of her head. “Everyone, please stop talking. The sound of kids’ voices gives me a headache. I didn’t want to be a counselor. I wanted a good job, like cleaning toilets. But that position was already taken.”

  She then wrapped her hands around invisible reins and patted the side of her invisible horse. “This is my air horse,” she said. “His name is Biter. Can you guess why?”

  No one answered.

  “Now watch carefully, cluck-clucks,” Mama said. “Follow my lead, and I’ll have you riding in no time!”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Mama swung her leg over the saddle on her air horse. “Always mount on the left side,” she instructed. “Just like this.”

  She stood erect. “Never try to mount from the rear. Your air horse will kick you from here to the lake.”

  Mama tugged on the invisible reins. “Okay, everyone, mount up!” she cried.

  We all obediently climbed onto our air horses.

  Nasty Nancy was muttering to herself. “My horse is limping,” she said. “Why do I always get the lame air horse?”

  “You’re lucky,” Cranky Frankie said. “Check out my air horse. I can’t tell the front from the back!”

  “Let’s ride!” Mama cried. She slapped the side of her horse and took off, making galloping sounds with her lips. We followed her around the field and down to the beach.

  In front of me, Junkfood John stopped suddenly. He jumped off his air horse and stood with his hand raised.

  “John, what are you doing?” I asked. “I nearly rode right into you.”

  “I’m giving my horse some sugar cubes,” John said. “Horses like sugar cubes.”

  Up ahead, I heard Cranky Frankie shout at Babbling Brooke. “Move it!” he cried. “Your horse is too slow!”

  He gave her air horse a hard kick—and it galloped off with Brooke screaming and struggling to get control.