“Fergie!” I cried out in a harsh whisper. “It’s not working! Something is wrong! Something is very wrong!”
31
“Cooper!” my mom cried happily, running toward the shack with outstretched arms. “Are you okay?”
“Margaret, what happened in there?” Dad called. “What happened to the dogs?”
“We’re okay,” Margaret muttered. “It’s just an empty shack. That’s all.”
“I’m going to call the pound again as soon as we get home,” Mom announced. “Those dogs shouldn’t be allowed to roam free. They’re dangerous!”
“Let’s just get out of here, okay, Dad?” Cooper said.
Fergie nodded in agreement. “We’re okay, Let’s go home.”
“What an adventure!” Mom sighed.
“At least it isn’t boring up here in our new home,” Dad added.
“For sure,” Cooper agreed.
* * *
“What happened?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
I watched my parents walking away from the shack, their arms around two kids.
“Hey! Those kids!” I cried. “They’re not us!”
The door to the shack opened, and two black Labs stumbled out in a daze. Their eyes met, then they bolted away, barking frantically.
What’s their problem? I wondered.
I watched the dogs disappear into the trees.
What’s going on? I asked myself, totally confused.
I’m not a kid—and I’m not a dog, either!
“Hey, Fergie? Fergie?”
Where was she?
When she popped up next to me, we both gasped.
“Oh, no! Please—no! No! No! Noooo!” she wailed.
Her head cocked to one side, and her little brown nose twitched furiously.
“Tell me we’re not!” I begged her. “Please, Fergie—tell me we’re not…”
“We are!” Fergie squeaked. “We… we’re chipmunks!”
We both squeaked and chittered our surprise.
Fergie gazed down at her furry little body. “How did this happen, Cooper? How did this happen?”
“The woods are filled with chipmunks,” I sighed. “Two of them must have wandered into the Changing Room. And we—”
“We switched with the chipmunks—not the kids!” Fergie cried. Her bushy tail thumped furiously on the ground.
I examined my tiny black paws. I moved my teeny little fingers. I twitched my button nose.
Cute. I was so cute!
“Now what?” Fergie wailed. “What do we do now?”
“Uh… hunt for acorns?” I suggested.
Fergie’s beady little eyes squinted into mine. “Excuse me?”
“Let’s hunt for acorns!” I said. “I’m starving!”
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R. L. Stine, [Goosebumps 32] - The Barking Ghost
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