A Babysitter's Guide to Monster Hunting

by Joe Ballarini

  The Toadie sniffed the night air with its sharp beak. Its breath made the trash bag covering its face undulate in and out.

  “Gerba derrrrrr,” Goggles said in a hungry tone.

  “Der, der?” called the other Toadies below him.

  I could hear what sounded like five or six Toadies happily jumping and panting inside the tunnel. Goggles was yanked down, and another Toadie—this one with a snagglefang poking out of its mask—planted its webbed talons on the edges of the tunnel. It pulled its pudgy frame up out of the hole, like an acrobat.

  Carmella was only two feet away from the creature. The long fang curled under the Toadie’s smile. I imagined that snaggletooth sinking into Carmella, and before I knew it, I had jumped to my feet and was charging for the child.

  “NOT YET, IDIOT!” screamed Liz.

  I raced forward. They’re going to eat the baby. They’re going to eat me. Don’t let them eat her. Don’t let them eat me.

  Will Victor speak at my funeral?

  Y’know, real life-affirming stuff that your brain thinks is superimportant when you need to be totally focused on the task at hand. Thanks, brain.

  Without stopping, I reached down, scooped up Carmella, cradled her in my arms, and kept sprinting. Snaggle the Toadie hissed and clawed as it chased after me.

  The swing set wasn’t something I was planning on running into, but these things happen.

  I fell, protecting Carmella, as if she were a golden egg. I slammed onto the rubber safety flooring and twisted around, almost breaking a rib.

  OOOF!

  Snaggle lunged at us, arms spread, twisted mouth wide open in hungry victory. I closed my eyes and held Carmella close to my chest.

  13

  ZZZZZWIP!

  The lasso closed around Snaggle’s feet, snapping them together. The Toadie slammed to the ground but still scrambled toward me. Liz reeled in the creature, and it turned on her with the speed of a rattlesnake.

  Liz booted Snaggle in its lumpy stomach. It made a gulping, keening wail and somersaulted onto the ground, removing the wire from its feet. The Toadie coiled into attack stance. Liz snapped into her own fighting stance and faced the monster, fists clenched, feet dancing. The Toadie sprang at her, and she unleashed a series of swift kicks and hard-core punches that shocked the Toadie into submission.

  I hung back with the baby, watching with growing admiration as Liz battled the creature. She spun in circles and threw her elbow back, cracking Snaggle in the jaw. She was like a panther mixed with a ballerina.

  “Whoa,” I said, bouncing Carmella in my arms. “You’re good.”

  Liz smirked—like “Of course I am”—and then climbed onto the highest part of the jungle gym and did a flying elbow drop onto Snaggle. I almost felt bad for the poor thing.

  Bzzt! Bzzt! My phone had fallen out of my pocket and way too close to the Toadie tunnel. “It’s Jacob’s mom!” I announced fearfully.

  Liz pulled the Toadie into a vicious headlock.

  “Don’t answer it!” she yelled as the monster wiggled in her grasp.

  “She’ll get suspicious if I don’t.”

  I juggled Carmella in my left arm while reaching for my phone with my right. The tops of three Toadie heads bobbled in their hole, waiting to snap at me. Keeping Carmella close, I grabbed my phone away from the gaping black hole.

  “Mrs. Zellman?” I tried to sound normal, but my voice cracked. The sound of the company Halloween party boomed behind her. My mother and father were at that party, completely unaware I had totally destroyed all of our futures.

  “Kelly? Is everything all right?” Mrs. Zellman’s voice was sharp with concern.

  I watched Liz slam Snaggle headfirst into the asphalt. It made a whimpering grunt.

  “Yep! Everything’s great,” I said, bobbing Carmella up and down in my arms. “Jacob’s, uh, already asleep.”

  “Well, that’s a first,” marveled Mrs. Zellman.

  “Oh, it is a night of firsts, that’s for sure,” I said, resisting the urge to say more.

  Liz howled as she hog-tied the Toadie’s arms and feet together.

  “What’s that sound?” Mrs. Zellman barked.

  “TV?” I sounded like a confused contestant on Jeopardy!

  Carmella squirmed in my arms. I struggled to keep my concentration while I kept an eye on the dark Toadie tunnel.

  “Sweet dreams, garbage breath,” Liz snarled, dragging the Toadie toward her moped.

  “Sounds like a scary movie,” Mrs. Zellman said. “Check the list, Kelly. No scary movies.”

  “No. It’s a fun movie. It’s fun!”

  “Fran, Phil—great to see you, darling. Thank you for coming,” Mrs. Zellman crooned away from the phone. “See you at one. Call if there are any problems,” she snapped at me. “And turn off that movie.”

  “Done and done!” I said, and hung up with a deep exhale.

  Liz stuffed the snaggletoothed Toadie into a thick, canvas mailbag and removed a small crystal bottle with a batch of glowing green liquid inside from her pack. The container looked exactly like the junk the Toadies had poured into Jacob’s mouth.

  “What is that stuff?”

  “Grit of the Sandman,” she said, uncapping the vial. “Nicked it off a not-so-nice tooth fairy a year ago. A few grains knock you out for an hour.”

  Liz squeezed an eyedropperful of the powder into the canvas bag. The shifting Toadie sneezed, shook its head, and fell silent.

  “Comes in handy when you need a monster to shut up. Or a hyper kid to go to sleep.”

  She zipped the canvas bag tight, clipping a small lock on the end, and swung it over her shoulder and marched to the edge of the Toadie tunnel. I cautiously stepped farther back, clutching Carmella.

  “Hey, down there, you trash-eating creeps,” she growled into the hole. “We got your friend. You want him back, give us Jacob.”

  Sounds of conspiring and raspy arguments between Snaggle’s buddies chattered down below.

  “Mmmph!” came a muted cry.

  “Jacob? That you, buddy?” Liz called out.

  “MMMPHEE!” replied Jacob from the depths of the earth.

  “JACOB!” I called out.

  I wanted to jump down there and grab him, but I knew that would be like diving into a blender on high speed.

  “Sorry your rookie sitter got you into this, buddy,” Liz said, shooting me a look. “But I’m going to get you out of it.”

  The Toadies laughed and giggled. It made something inside of me really angry. How dare they steal that kid and laugh about it? He was probably freezing and was going to have even more terrible nightmares.

  Liz removed the Jaguar hood ornament from her pack and waved it over the tunnel.

  “Nice sparkly. You like sparkly,” taunted Liz. “Trade? Yes?”

  “Aaah. Parklee,” they gurgled.

  I looked at Liz. Maybe this crazy person wasn’t as crazy as I thought.

  A final raspy bark ended the muffled Toadie argument. “Ferda-flug!” The hole quickly filled up with dirt. Their clawed feet thumped underground as they raced off, dragging Jacob behind them.

  “Where are they going? Where’s Jacob?” I asked Liz.

  Liz opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. This was clearly not part of her plan.

  “We have to go after them!” I said, handing her Carmella and dropping to my knees.

  I started digging up the tunnel. Liz grabbed my shoulder. “Stop it.” I didn’t listen. “Fine. Keep digging if you want your hand bitten off,” she said as she slipped little Carmella into her BabyBjörn. I paused.

  “No one’s ever gone down to the tunnels and come back alive,” she said, angrily tearing off her gloves. “I knew you’d screw this up.”

  “So did I!” I exclaimed. “I’ve never done this before! Jacob’s gone, and I’m going to go to jail, my mom’s going to get fired, and . . .”

  Liz clenched her fist. “Stop freaking out.” She breathed deeply, closing her eyes and r
epeating, “There’s always a way.”

  “So what’s the way? How are we going to find Jacob?”

  “This cretin”—Liz kicked the lumpy canvas sack bulging with the Toadie trapped inside—“is going to lead us right to him.”

  14

  We sped west toward Carmella’s house with our captured creature tied to the side of the moped. I shuddered each time the canvas sack bumped against my leg. It felt like a pillowcase full of eels as we made our way up to a large house on the hillside. Liz cut the engine and flipped down the kickstand.

  “Where’d you learn to fight like that?” I asked.

  Liz tossed me the guide.

  “Section five, page ninety-six,” she said, carrying Carmella toward the house.

  In the guide, I saw charts of elaborate kung-fu moves titled Whispering Nanny, Rock the Cradle, and the Nap Time Headlock.

  “Can you teach me how to do these?” I asked.

  If I was going to dance with monsters, I wanted to have the right moves. Besides, I took ballet classes when I was three and totally confused every position. Then again, I was three.

  “Those moves take years of training,” she said over her shoulder.

  “I’m a quick study,” I reminded her. This was true about things in books. Things IRL might be stretching the truth. At the front door, Liz stopped.

  “This ain’t the SATs, Quick Study. Just wait here,” she said, nodding at the canvas bag. “And make sure that doesn’t get away.”

  Liz entered the front door, cradling Baby Carmella. I kept a watchful eye on the burlap sack. I imagined Snaggle coiled inside, pretending to sleep, waiting for me to poke it so it could snap my fingers into its mouth.

  I looked in the guide at a diagram of a girl doing a high-flying punch.

  I stood just like the picture, and then I swung my fist. I lost my balance, slipped onto the ground, and caught a faceful of grass.

  Smooth, Kelly. Real smooth.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Tammy again.

  “Are you okay? Why haven’t you picked up your phone?”

  “Tammy! This has been the craziest night. I’m with this girl, this babysitter named Liz, we caught this thing and . . .”

  Since I was five, I had always slept over Tammy’s house. We’d watch movies and eat endless bowls of popcorn and talk until three in the morning about things we didn’t understand, like where heaven was, and why boys were so weird and yet so cool. She had this great SpongeBob sleeping bag that I would hop around in and do my best impression of the little yellow guy. Then she would yawn, and I would yawn too. I slept the soundest whenever I was at Tammy’s house.

  At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to curl up in her SpongeBob SquarePants sleeping bag, zip the top over my head, and sleep until I forgot this night ever happened. I looked up at the second-story window to see Liz gently dressing Baby Carmella for bed.

  “I threw up,” moaned Tammy.

  “What?”

  “All over. But I won the pizza-eating contest,” she admitted, giggling and burping.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Tam, but listen to me—”

  “I threw up in the back of my mom’s car, too. Not good.”

  I laughed for a moment, imagining Tammy’s uptight mother freaking out at all the puke covering her car seats.

  “Seriously, though. I might need you to come and get me,” I whispered.

  “I’m in bed, Kell.” Her voice sounded sleepy and thick. “I think the pepperoni was bad. It was definitely bad because I’ve been on the toilet a lot.”

  “Tam. Gross.” While I felt bad for her, she did get sick trying to win a stupid pizza-eating contest. “Listen, Tammy—this is very serious.”

  “I gotta go,” Tammy moaned again. I heard the sound of her puking, and then the phone went dead.

  My jaw stiffened in frustration. Tammy was my best friend. I was up to my eyeballs in horrific, life-changing stuff. The least she could do was listen to me.

  My anger sank into hopelessness. No one was coming to save me.

  I was lost in the darkness with just a spiral-bound notebook in my hand and an unconscious troll at my side.

  A black car parked in front of the house, and two adults that I guessed were Carmella’s parents spilled out of the front seats. Carmella’s mother held her high heels in her hand, swinging them around while the father danced the cha-cha around her. They didn’t even notice me as they danced into the front doorway and greeted Liz. Liz sounded like a completely different person. Sweet and gentle and kind.

  After a moment, Liz hopped down the front stairs, popping two crisp hundred-dollar bills with a smile.

  “Two hundred bucks?” I asked.

  “Younger the kid, better the pay.” Liz smiled. “Job’s a nightmare, but it does have its perks.”

  Huh, I thought. Not bad. Only a few nights like tonight, and I’ll have enough to go to Camp Miskatonic. As long as I live through tonight.

  Liz sat on her moped, and I got on behind her. “Aren’t you worried more monsters will come for Carmella?” I asked.

  Liz shook her head. “They’ve already caught their big fish for the night. Besides, monsters are less likely to attack when a parent is home. Something special about the bond between a parent and child protects them.”

  The moped careened out of Mercy Springs, across the Blackstone River, past a slushing waterfall, and into the small town of Central Falls. Liz banged her fist on the handlebar and cursed.

  “Toadies always trade,” she said to herself. “This is worse than I thought.”

  What Was Happening While I Was Flipping Out

  Skulls with wings; sad-faced cherubs; and weeping, marble angels gathered silently in the graveyard. Slate tombstones leaned under a gnarled thornbush that stretched out like death’s bony fingers. Layers of fallen leaves shuddered. The ground bulged. A human skull was thrust up from the ground. A tiny, trash bag–covered arm used the skeleton’s head like a puppet.

  “Nar, nar, nar,” a Toadie said, using its other claw to open and close the head’s mouth.

  The other Toadies giggled and slapped the skull from its claws. They shoved the heavy burlap sack into its arms and snapped at it.

  “Berker dur!” the one with the goggles snarled at its friend. This meant “I am tired of hauling this heavy kid while you mess around. It’s your turn to lift him, jerk!”

  They rolled the sack onto the graveyard’s dead-leaf carpet, Jacob’s muffled cry urging from inside. Goggles untied the top of the sack, and Jacob’s dazed head poked out of the top, hair frizzed out. The little boy looked up at three vicious trash trolls surrounding him. He tried not to cry, but deep, painful sobs escaped from the lump in his throat.

  “I . . . wan’ go home.” Jacob choked.

  “Ah wagga ome. Waaah. Ha, ha, ha!” mocked the Toadies.

  Jacob’s head withered to the ground in defeat. His hands and feet were tied. The burlap sack scratched his neck like tiny needles. He was tired, and he had a bellyache from all the candy he’d eaten that night. Candy, Jacob realized, he might never have again. Damp, dewy leaves fluttered under the boy’s listless, sad breath.

  Thump. Thump.

  Through the crooked tombstones, Jacob saw the ebony hooves of his nightmares crunch across the weeds and thorns. A scraggly tail lashed into the air, keeping time with the song its owner was singing.

  “‘Ring-around-the-rosy. A pocketful of posies . . .’”

  The Grand Guignol crossed the cemetery with the happy, upbeat attitude of a creature whose lifelong dream was about to come true.

  “‘Ashes, ashes. We all fall down,’” he sang, and danced.

  Jacob’s stomach twisted; his heart nearly stopped. This was the monster he had dreamed about. The pale man at his window. He was real. He was alive. And he was going to do terrible things.

  “Ah. It’s good to be back!” bellowed the Grand Guignol. He hunched down over Jacob and grinned. “Thanks for conjuring me back into this
realm. You really are something.”

  The tall wretched man stretched his arms and legs like a yoga instructor. “I’ve been waiting quite some time for this opportunity. Big night ahead. Big night. Gotta limber up.”

  The Boogeyman bent down to touch his toes, and his pointed tail brushed Jacob’s face. Jacob screamed at the top of his lungs, praying someone would hear him.

  The three Toadies and the Grand Guignol laughed at Jacob’s bloodcurdling cries.

  “That’s good,” said the monstrous man. “Be afraid. Make those nightmares nice and juicy, Jacob. We’ll need lots of them.”

  The Toadies dragged Jacob to the side of a shiny, black carriage helmed by four skeletal horses with black feathers adorning their heads. The Toadies unlocked a cage door at the back of the wagon and hoisted Jacob inside.

  “Bergader guk!” said the goggle-wearing Toadie to its master.

  “You’re mumbling, darling,” said the Grand Guignol. “Use your words.”

  “Bergader guk Snaggle,” implored Goggles.

  “Babysitters took Snaggle?”

  The Grand Guignol’s jolly demeanor darkened.

  “Babysitters. I detest babysitters. With their backpacks and their pigtails and their faces.”

  “Bergader grabaa!” agreed Goggles.

  “You’re right, but you don’t have to swear so much. This is a family operation. Babysitters have made our kind nearly extinct. They have no respect for beauty or perfection.”

  He dramatically tossed what little hair he had over his shoulders.

  “Snaggle will be missed. But we cannot veer from the plan. Lots to do. So let us observe a moment of silence for the poor Toadie. Annnnd we’re done with that.”

  He hopped onto the carriage, popped a plumed top hat onto his head, and cracked the reins. The ghostly horses galloped forward. Buckles and bridles jingled like wicked bells. With the hooves of the horses charging, the carriage launched into the sky and over the graves of forgotten Union soldiers.

  The ground fell away beneath the wheels, and Jacob’s stomach dropped into his feet. He wiggled out of the sack and, clutching the cage’s bars, he cautioned a look down. Rooftops and treetops sailed past, growing farther and farther away until they were obscured by blankets of misty clouds and dancing snakes of lightning. The phantom carriage streaked across the full moon, trailing the sound of the Boogeyman’s laughter.