Two heads appeared. Four human arms.
In seconds, Zeke and Decker stood in its place, sweeping water from their blond hair. “We tried to scare you away,” Zeke told Kelli. “Together, Decker and I are a monster. We can’t help it.”
“I don’t care if you’re a monster,” Kelli replied. “You saved my brother’s life.”
“You don’t live under the water?” her father asked, his hands on Shawn’s shoulders.
“No,” Decker answered. “We want to live normal lives. We didn’t want to live in the swamp anymore. We didn’t want anyone to guess that we were the Shaggedy. We live in a house. We go to school. We try to act like normal humans. But we’re a monster and we can’t control it.”
“We don’t know how it happened to us,” Zeke said. “We’ve always been the Shaggedy.”
“You two boys are heroes,” Ranger Saul chimed in. He frowned at them. “But I have to take you both away.”
Kelli gasped. Everyone stared at Saul.
“I’m not who I said I was,” Saul told them. “I’m not a crazy swamp hermit who collects snake heads. I’m a federal agent. I’ve been here on Monster Watch.”
Zeke and Decker took a step back.
“Don’t worry,” Saul told them. “Since you saved Shawn’s life, you’ll get very good treatment. But it’s my job. I have to take you both away to the federal science labs. They are waiting to study you there.”
“I … don’t … think so,” Zeke said. He and his brother exchanged glances. Then they put their heads together. They leaned against each other and began to change.
They appeared to melt together. Their arms disappeared into their sides. Their heads melded quickly into one giant, lizard-like head.
Kelli and the others stared in amazement as the Shaggedy stood before them again. Its big chest heaved. It curled and uncurled enormous animal fists.
And then it lunged forward — and grabbed Ranger Saul.
Saul uttered a startled cry as the monster wrapped its arms around his waist and lifted him easily off the ground. Saul’s hat went flying, and his long white hair tossed up in the air. He kicked and squirmed, but the Shaggedy held him tightly.
The big creature raised Saul over its head. Held him high. Then pulled back its powerful arms, ready to heave the terrified man into the trees.
“Stop! Stop it!” Kelli screamed, and burst in front of the creature.
The Shaggedy hesitated. It held Saul over its head as if he weighed an ounce.
“Put him down!” Kelli shouted. Her voice came out high and shrill. “I called you up. Do you remember? You must listen to me. You must do as I say.”
The monster’s red eyes locked on Kelli. The big arms pulled back, ready to heave Saul away. Then the Shaggedy let out a long sigh. It lowered Saul to his feet. It took a step back.
It worked! Kelli thought. The monster obeyed me.
“Go back where you came from!” she ordered it. “Back into the swamp where you belong.”
Would the monster obey her again?
It tossed back its head and let out a deafening roar. Then it stuck both arms out in front of it, ready to grab someone.
It lurched toward Kelli, its eyes flaming and angry.
“Noooo!” Kelli screamed as the Shaggedy reached her.
But to her surprise, it marched right past her. It stomped into the trees, crushing vines and small shrubs beneath its huge feet. In a few seconds, the monster vanished from sight.
Kelli could still hear its thudding footsteps. But then the footsteps faded away. The swamp was silent.
And then everyone there began to cheer. A cheer of triumph.
“Kelli Andersen, Monster Tamer!” Shawn declared.
More cheers and happy cries and laughter.
Her dad swept Kelli off her feet in a hug. And then all three Andersens were wrapped in a long family hug. “What a close call,” their dad kept repeating. “But we’re all okay now. We’re all okay.”
He stood back, sweeping a hand over his bald head. “I’ve made up my mind, you two,” he said. “We’re not staying here one more day. I’m taking you back to New York City.”
Kelli frowned at him. “Awwww, Dad,” she moaned. “Do we have to go? It’s much more exciting here.”
I know I’m supposed to be careful. I know I’m supposed to be good. But sometimes you have to take a chance and hope no one is watching.
Otherwise, life would be totally boring, right?
My name is Jay Gardener. I’m twelve and sometimes I can’t help it — I like a little excitement. I mean, dare me to do something — and it’s done.
It’s just the way I am. I’m not a bad dude. Sure, I’m in trouble a lot. I’ve been in some pretty bad trouble. But that doesn’t mean I’m a criminal or anything.
Check out these big blue eyes. Are these the eyes of a criminal? No way. And my curly red hair? And the freckles on my nose? You might almost call me cute, right?
Okay, okay. Let’s not get sickening about it.
My sister, Kayla, calls me Jay Bird because she says I’m as cute as a bird. Kayla is totally weird. Besides, she has the same red hair and blue eyes. So why pick on me?
So, okay, I felt this temptation come on. You know what that is. Just a strong feeling that you have to do something you maybe shouldn’t do.
I gazed up and down our street. No one around. Good. No one to watch me.
The summer trees’ leaves shimmered in the warm sunlight. The houses and lawns gleamed so bright, I had to squint. I stepped into the shade of Mr. McClatchy’s front yard.
McClatchy lives in the big old house across the street from us. He’s a mean dude and everyone hates him. He’s bald and red-faced and as skinny as a toothpick. He wears his pants way up high so the belt is almost up to his armpits.
He yells at everyone in his high, shrill voice. He’s always chasing kids off his lawn — even new kids, like Kayla and me. He’s even mean to our dog, the sweetest golden Lab who ever lived — Mr. Phineas.
So, I had an idea to have a little fun. Of course it was wrong. Of course it wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing. But sometimes, when you see something funny to do — you just have to take a chance.
Am I right?
That morning, I saw some guys in green uniforms doing work on the tall trees in McClatchy’s front yard. When they went home, they left a ladder leaning against a tree.
I glanced up and down the street again. Still no one in sight.
I crept up to the ladder and grabbed its sides. I slid it away from the tree trunk. The ladder was tall but light. Not hard to move.
Gripping it tightly by the sides, I dragged it to the front of McClatchy’s house. I leaned it against the wall. Then I slid it to the open window on the second floor.
Breathing hard, I wiped my sweaty hands on the legs of my jeans. “Sweet,” I murmured. “When McClatchy comes home, he’ll see the ladder leaning up against the open window. And he’ll totally panic. He’ll think a burglar broke into his house.”
The idea made me laugh. I have a weird laugh. It sounds more like hiccupping than laughing. Whenever I laugh, my whole family starts to laugh because my laugh is so strange.
Well, actually, Mom and Dad haven’t been laughing with me much lately. Maybe I’ve done some things that aren’t funny. Maybe I’ve done some things I shouldn’t have. That’s why I had to promise to be good and stay out of trouble.
But the ladder against the open window was definitely funny. And it wasn’t such a bad thing to do, right? Especially since McClatchy is the meanest, most-hated old dude in the neighborhood.
Still laughing about my joke, I turned and started down the driveway. McClatchy has a tall hedge along the bottom of his yard. It’s like a wall. I guess he really wants to keep people out.
At the end of the driveway, his mailbox stood on a tilted pole. And as I passed it, I saw the trash cans in the street. The trash was bulging up under the lids — and it gave me another cool idea.
> Working fast, I pulled open the mailbox, lifted the lid off a trash can — and started to stuff trash into McClatchy’s mailbox.
Yes! A greasy bag of chicken bones. A crushed soup can. Some gooey yellow stuff that looked like puke. Wet newspapers. More soup cans.
I imagined McClatchy squeaking and squealing in his high voice when he opened the mailbox and found it jammed with disgusting garbage.
What a hoot.
I started to laugh again — but quickly stopped. A choking sound escaped my throat.
Whoa.
Someone watching me. Two people watching, half-hidden by the tall hedge.
I froze. They stood side by side, staring right at me. I knew they saw everything. Everything.
A chunk of moldy cheese and a clump of newspaper fell from my hands. I staggered back from the mailbox.
Caught. I was totally caught.
R.L. Stine’s books are read all over the world. So far, his books have sold more than 300 million copies, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written the teen series Fear Street and the funny series Rotten School, as well as the Mostly Ghostly series, The Nightmare Room series, and the two-book thriller Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and Minnie, his King Charles spaniel. You can learn more about him at www.RLStine.com.
Goosebumps book series created by Parachute Press, Inc.
Copyright © 2016 by Scholastic Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, GOOSEBUMPS, GOOSEBUMPS HORRORLAND, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing 2016
Cover design by Steve Scott
Cover art by Brandon Dorman
e-ISBN 978-0-545-82548-1
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
R.L. Stine, Here Comes the Shaggedy
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends