Camp Daze

by R. L. Stine

  “I’ll help you, Brooke!” Pat Splat called. He galloped after her, and his air horse ran smack into a tree.

  SPLAAAAAT.

  Wacky Jackie rode up beside me. Her eyes went wide and she pointed into the distance. “Hey, look, Adam! There’s a real horse!”

  I shielded my eyes with one hand and squinted. “No,” I said. “That’s not a horse. It’s Rob Slob. And he really needs to take a bath! He’s starting to become part of the forest.”

  “Hey, Mama—watch this!” Patty Perfect cried. She pulled up straight, then leaned back as far as she could and jumped up and down. “I taught my air horse some tricks!”

  “Check this out!” Peter Perfect cried. “Patty and I trained our horses to do jumping tricks.” He leaped over a small shrub.

  Then he raised both hands high above his head and ran in a wide circle. “Mama, look—no hands!”

  “Hold onto the reins, you dip-dip!” Mama shouted.

  Peter laughed. “Patty and I are Camp Champs already!” he cried.

  He and Patty slapped their legs to make horse-galloping sounds, and they rode off to their two-bedroom tent.

  “How come they’re so good at air horse riding?” Babbling Brooke asked.

  “They probably took lessons back home,” I said.

  Mama climbed off her air horse and blew a loud whistle. “Horseback riding is over for today,” she shouted.

  We all came to a stop.

  “Listen up, you dum-diddies,” Mama said, waving her cane in the air. “I’ll see you here tomorrow for our first air soccer game.”

  “We don’t use a ball?” Pat Splat asked.

  Mama swung her cane and slapped him hard behind the knees.

  “No. No ball,” she said. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Nervous Rex here. I’m going to do my best to tell you what happened next.

  It always makes me nervous to tell a story. I’m afraid I’ll leave something out or get something wrong. It’s a lot of p-pressure.

  I was in our cabin under the bed, waiting for the guys to get back from horseback riding.

  I kept thinking, maybe I should leave the cabin and go outside one of these days. But why take a chance?

  The door swung open, and Adam Bomb stomped in, followed by the others. I could see that Adam was in an angry mood. He was red-faced and panting hard.

  He kept puffing his red cheeks in and out. And he curled and uncurled his fists in front of him.

  Believe me, it made me nervous to see Adam like that. I know what happens when he gets totally steamed. And it’s no fun to be around.

  Cranky Frankie walked over to his bunk. “Hey,” he snapped, “who put all these cracker crumbs in my bed?”

  Junkfood John pointed up to the top bunk. “They must have fallen out of my bed,” he said. “I was eating up there.”

  “But there are literally hundreds of crumbs!” Cranky Frankie protested.

  “I know,” John said. “I was eating real fast, and I kept missing my mouth.”

  “I don’t care about that!” Adam Bomb screamed.

  I wanted to duck back under my bed. Screaming makes me nervous, even when they’re not screaming at me.

  Adam shook his fists in the air. “I can’t take it anymore!” he shouted. His face darkened until it was as purple as a plum.

  “No worries. I’ll get rid of the cracker crumbs,” Junkfood John said.

  “I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT THE CRUMBS!” Adam shrieked.

  We all grew silent. I wanted to hide, but if I did, how could I tell you the story?

  Adam punched the cabin wall. “I can’t take one more minute of the Perfect twins!” he cried. “They win everything at school by being so . . . perfect. They win everything out of school. And now—”

  Adam started to choke. Rob Slob slapped him on the back until he started breathing again.

  “And now,” Adam continued, “we’re at summer camp—and they are winning everything here, too!”

  His eyes bulged. His face grew even redder. “I . . . I can’t STAND it!” he shrieked.

  And then he exploded.

  All over the cabin.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  I jumped onto the nearest bunk and pulled the pillow over my head.

  Watching your friend explode can be very upsetting. I hadn’t felt this nervous since I poured the milk into my breakfast cereal this morning.

  When I finally looked out, Pat Splat and Luke Puke were carrying the pieces of Adam Bomb to a bunk in the corner. They tried to arrange him so he looked like himself. But it wasn’t easy.

  “Adam is right,” Luke Puke said. “We have to find a way to beat the Perfects. We can’t let them become Camp Champs this summer.”

  Junkfood John squinted at him. “Excuse me? What did you say?” John asked. “These tortilla chips I’m eating are crunching so loud, I can’t hear a word you are saying.”

  Cranky Frankie groaned. “John, did you ever think of chewing with your mouth closed?”

  “Is that allowed?” he asked.

  I heard a knock on the cabin door. Handy Sandy poked her head in.

  “John, what on earth are you eating?” she demanded. “We can hear you chewing across the lake in the girls’ cabin.”

  “I like a good crunch,” John said to her.

  Sandy stepped into the cabin. “Where’s Adam?”

  I pointed to the bunk against the wall. “M-most of him is over there, in that bed,” I said.

  “Adam exploded,” Luke Puke explained.

  Sandy slapped her forehead. “Again?”

  We all nodded.

  “Are you sure you collected all of him this time?” Sandy asked. She pointed. “What’s that leg under the bed?”

  “It’s just a leg,” Rob Slob explained. “It was there when we got here. Really.”

  “What made Adam so upset?” Sandy asked.

  “The Perfects. What else?” Cranky Frankie said, rolling his eyes.

  “We have to find a way to stop them,” Luke Puke said. “We have to stop them from being Camp Champs this summer.”

  A smile crossed Handy Sandy’s face. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I have an idea.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Babbling Brooke here. If I may, allow me to continue our story.

  Chef Indy Jestian served dinner in the mess hall. We ate some kind of roasted animal chops and potato-less potato salad, which was gooey but awesome.

  I wanted to do my food cheer again . . .

  GIVE ME AN F!

  GIVE ME A U!

  GIVE ME A D!

  GIVE ME AN E . . .

  But I was too busy trying to chew the chops to stand up and lead a cheer. The chops were really tough. Junkfood John pounded his chop on the table, and it made a dent in the wood.

  Rob Slob leaned across the table toward me. He had a playful grin on his face. “Brooke, know what kids always like to do at camp?” he whispered.

  I shook my head. “No. What?”

  “Food fights,” he whispered. “They are a riot. All campers like food fights.”

  I stared at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Watch this,” Rob said, and raised his dinner plate in the air. “Food fight!” he shouted. “Food fight, everyone!”

  Rob heaved his plate of chops at kids at the other end of the long table.

  The plate bounced off the table, hit the wall, and shattered. And the chops and potato-less salad flew all over the floor.

  Everyone turned to Rob.

  There was silence.

  No one joined in.

  Everyone just stared.

  Rob Slob shrugged. “Guess food fights aren’t as popular as I thought,” he said.

  He then turned to the end of the table. “Can anyone throw my food back to me? I’m still hungry.”

  For dessert, we had something the chef called Bird Pie.

  I wish he had told us what was in it.

  After dinner, we all gathere
d in front of the small stage at the back of the mess hall. The Perfect twins wanted to perform some kind of show for us.

  I sat next to Nasty Nancy. “What are the twins going to do?” I whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Nancy replied. “But I’m sure it will be perfect.” She snickered. “Perfectly awful.”

  I guess that was some kind of joke, but I didn’t really get it.

  Behind me, Leaky Lindsay sneezed really hard, and I felt the back of my T-shirt get wet. I turned around and she sneezed again. So now the front of my T-shirt was wet, too.

  Lindsay was using a floor mat as a tissue, but it didn’t seem to help.

  Just then, the Perfect twins stepped onto the stage. Peter carried a thick rope in his hands.

  “Tonight, we’re going to demonstrate some perfect knot-tying,” Patty said.

  “Tying knots can be very entertaining,” Peter said. “And it can be useful, too. You never know when you’ll need a knot.”

  “We think tying knots is educational,” Patty Perfect said. “Watch carefully, and you may be able to tie knots almost as good as we do.”

  “Of course, you won’t be perfect like Patty and I,” Peter added. “But you can do your best.”

  Peter raised a rope in both hands. “First, you must always start out with a rope,” Patty said. “We find that a rope is best for tying knots.”

  “The first knot we’re going to show you is called a Granny Knot,” Peter said. “That’s because the rope is as wrinkled as your granny!”

  Was that supposed to be a joke? I couldn’t tell. I’m not good with jokes—especially when I don’t know if it’s a joke or not.

  Peter Perfect tugged the ends of the rope into a bow, then reversed the bow, and then turned the whole thing upside down in his hands. Then he held it up for all of us to see. “A perfect Granny Knot!” he exclaimed. “I couldn’t do it any better!”

  “Peter, you couldn’t do it any better,” his sister said, “because it’s perfect!”

  “Why thank you, Patty. And so are you.”

  Patty then took the rope from her brother. “Now I will show you all how to tie a Sailor’s Knot,” she announced. “It’s called a Sailor’s Knot because if you don’t tie it right, you get seasick!”

  Was that another joke?

  Patty twisted the rope and curled it in on itself and twisted it some more. Then she held it up. “Here it is—a perfect Sailor’s Knot.”

  We all stared at them. It looked a lot like the Granny Knot to me.

  Next, the twins did a Rip Knot, a Doggy Knot, a Cheese-and-Crackers Knot, and a Knot Knot.

  “Thank you! Thank you!” Patty cried. She then took a bow, even though no one was clapping. “You’re a great audience.”

  Everyone started to yawn loudly.

  “You don’t have to beg us,” Peter said. “We’ll do one more knot for you. It’s our famous Slippery Knot.”

  Kids groaned and then yawned some more.

  “We want to demonstrate our Slippery Knot on Uncle Cousin,” Patty said. “Let’s see if he can slip out of it.”

  Peter shielded his eyes with one hand. “Uncle Cousin, where are you? Come on up here.”

  We all looked around. But there was no sign of Uncle Cousin.

  “We’ll go get him,” Patty Perfect said, and she and her brother stepped down from the stage.

  That’s when Handy Sandy moved beside me. “Brooke, listen,” she whispered. “Here’s my plan . . .”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Handy Sandy leaned in close and whispered. “Brooke, are you enjoying the knot-tying demonstration?”

  I shook my head. “I like balloon animals better,” I said. “Balloon animals are my favorite. I mean, how do you make a dachshund out of only three balloons?”

  “Well, the Perfects think they’re scoring points by showing off all these knots,” Sandy whispered. “Maybe we can make sure they’re not so perfect.”

  I squinted at her. “What do you plan to do?”

  Sandy gazed around. Kids were standing up and stretching, talking and laughing, and moving around the mess hall. “No one is watching,” she whispered.

  Sandy jumped up, crept to the stage, and took the rope the Perfects had left on the stage floor. Then she hurried back to me.

  “Sandy, what are you doing with their rope?” I asked.

  She raised a finger to her lips. “Sssshhh. I brought a tube of Wacky Glue.”

  “Wacky Glue?”

  Sandy nodded and pulled the little tube of glue from the pocket of her shorts. “I’m just going to put a little dab of glue on the rope,” she whispered. “So their Slippery Knot won’t slip. This will be awesome.”

  “Are you sure it will work?” I asked.

  “It can’t fail,” Sandy said. “It will totally embarrass them! What could go wrong?”

  She held the rope in one hand. Then she tilted the tube of Wacky Glue over it and squeezed out a big glob.

  “Hurry. They’re coming back!” I whispered.

  Sandy quickly shoved the glue back into her pocket.

  “We found Uncle Cousin!” Patty Perfect exclaimed. She and her brother were guiding the camp owner to the stage. “Take your seats, everyone. The Slippery Knot is our best knot.”

  Everyone sat back down in front of the stage except for Handy Sandy. “Another volunteer,” Patty Perfect said and stuck out her hand. “Hand me the rope, please.”

  Sandy stuck her hand out toward Patty.

  Patty frowned at her. “The rope, please.”

  Sandy was about to give the rope to Patty. Then she shook her hand up and down, but the rope remained.

  “Sandy, we all want to see this knot,” Uncle Cousin said. “Hand the rope to Patty.”

  Sandy shook her hand up and down some more. She grabbed the rope with her other hand and tugged. “Sorry,” she said finally. “It’s stuck.”

  “Huh?” Patty Perfect stared in disbelief. “Stuck?”

  “I think I used too much Wacky Glue,” Sandy muttered.

  “Let me try,” Uncle Cousin said. He grabbed the rope in both hands and pulled as hard as he could.

  He pulled so hard, Sandy nearly fell over. But the rope stayed stuck to her hand.

  “It sure is stuck tight,” Uncle Cousin said. He turned to the audience. “Anyone have any ideas on how to get the rope off her hand?”

  Mama stood up. “How about a hacksaw?” she said.

  Uncle Cousin shook his head. “That might get messy,” he replied. He then turned back to Sandy. “Tell you what. Let’s just wait for the glue to soften.”

  Sandy squinted at him. “Soften? How long will that take?”

  “It should loosen up in a year or two,” Uncle Cousin told her.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Leaky Lindsay here. I’m new to all of this, but for some reason they’ve asked me to continue the story.

  Later that night, AHCHOO.

  I mean AHHHHCHHHOOOOO.

  We all got together and AHHHCHOOOOOEY. AHCHOOO.

  Anyone have a tissue?

  ACHOO ACHOO.

  I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I—

  TWENTY-NINE

  Wacky Jackie here. Well that was . . . unpleasant. But now I get to continue the story.

  We gave Leaky Lindsay a bedsheet to use as a tissue. Then, later that night, we all crept out of our cabins and met on the steps to the mess hall.

  It was a warm, clear night. A big half-moon sent down silvery light from high in the sky. Crickets chirped all around. At least, I think they were crickets.

  What else chirps like that?

  It was exciting to be out so late. We knew it was against the rules, but we were desperate—we had to think of a way to stop the Perfect twins.

  The mess hall was closed and dark, and we all huddled together in front of the door. Everyone except for Nervous Rex. He wouldn’t leave the cabin at night. He said darkness makes him itch.

  Handy Sandy kept tugging at the rope stuck to her hand. �
�I think it will come off in warm water,” she said. “Or maybe cold water. I’m not sure which.”

  Rob Slob sat next to me. I’m used to his smell, so it was no big deal. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and I noticed a bunch of long, black spots on his chest.

  “No worries,” Rob said. “It’s just some dirt.”

  Brainy Janey leaned close to Rob and inspected his chest. “No, that’s not dirt,” she said. “Those are leeches. You probably got them in the lake.”

  Rob lowered his eyes to look. “Leeches?”

  “You probably should pull them off,” Janey told him. “Leeches suck your blood.”

  “So that’s why I felt a little itchy today,” Rob said.

  He flicked a fat, juicy one off his chest and it went flying into the air.

  SPLAAAAAT.

  It landed on Pat Splat’s head.

  “Let’s get down to business,” Nasty Nancy said. “I need my beauty sleep.”

  Cranky Frankie tossed his head back and burst out laughing.

  “What are you laughing about?” Nancy demanded.

  “I’m laughing about something you said,” Frankie replied, and giggled some more. “You’re funny. Beauty sleep.”

  “I have a good idea for stopping Peter and Patty Perfect,” Brainy Janey interrupted.

  We all leaned closer to listen.

  “It involves covering them in large reptiles,” she said.

  “Janey, where will we get reptiles?” I asked.

  She crossed her arms in front of her. “I can’t think of everything!” she snapped.

  “Maybe the Smellville Zoo will lend us some reptiles,” Babbling Brooke said.

  “There’s only one problem,” Cranky Frankie said. “The Smellville Zoo doesn’t have any animals, remember? They sold them all to raise awareness for animal conservation.”

  “That’s why it’s no fun to go to the zoo anymore,” I said. “I knew there was a good reason.”

  “Are those really leeches on Rob Slob?” Luke Puke asked.

  He’s always a little behind the rest of us.

  “Yes, those are leeches,” Janey told him. “But they’re harmless . . . as long as they are on someone else.”