R. L. Stine
Monster Blood IV
1
Evan Ross was thinking about Monster Blood. He thought about Monster Blood a lot.
Evan wished he had never discovered Monster Blood. The sticky, slimy green goo had to be the most dangerous substance on Earth.
Evan knew that as soon as you open a can of Monster Blood, you are doomed. The Monster Blood will grow and grow — and suck up everything in its path.
And if you accidentally eat some of the green goo—look out! A tiny chunk of Monster Blood had turned Cuddles, the classroom hamster, into a growling monster as big as a gorilla!
And when Evan accidentally swallowed a little bit of it, he shot up taller than his house. It was not the happiest day of Evan’s life. It was a day he kept trying to forget.
So why was he thinking about Monster Blood today?
His green sweater reminded him of Monster Blood. He had begged his mom not to make the sweater green. But she had already started knitting it. Too late to change colors.
“You look good in green,” she told him. “It brings out your eyes.”
“I don’t want to bring out my eyes,” Evan told her.
He wanted to scream. The yarn she used was greener than the Jolly Green Giant! He pictured himself trapped inside a giant green blob of Monster Blood.
“Wear it to your cousin Kermit’s,” Mrs. Ross instructed him.
“I don’t need a sweater,” he protested. “Just put it in my suitcase.”
“Wear it. It’s winter,” she insisted. “It gets cold, even here in Atlanta.”
“I don’t want to stay at Kermit’s,” Evan grumbled, pulling the sweater over his head. Yuck. Green — and itchy. “How long are you and Dad going to be out West?”
“Only nine or ten days,” his mother replied.
“‘Only’?” Evan cried, struggling into the tight wool sleeves. “I’ll die! Aunt Dee’s food is so horrible! She puts that hot sauce on everything. Even brownies!”
“Your aunt does not put hot sauce on brownies,” Mrs. Ross replied sternly. “She likes to make spicy food, but—”
“I’ll explode!” Evan insisted. “And that geeky little creep, Kermit—”
“Don’t call your cousin a geeky little creep,” Mrs. Ross scolded.
“Well, he is one — isn’t he?” Evan demanded.
“That’s beside the point,” his mom said. She pulled the green sweater down over Evan’s waist and admired it. “It fits perfectly. And I like that shade of green.”
“I look like a ripe watermelon,” Evan grumbled.
“Don’t forget, Aunt Dee is paying you to babysit Kermit,” his mom reminded him. She handed him his suitcase. “You want to go to sleepaway camp this summer, right? Well, you can’t go to camp unless you earn the money to pay for it.”
“I know, I know.” He kissed his mom good-bye.
“Your dad and I will call you when we get to Tucson,” Mrs. Ross said. “Take good care of Kermit. And don’t give Aunt Dee a hard time.”
“I won’t eat till you get back,” Evan told her. “I’ll probably weigh ten pounds.”
His mom laughed.
She thinks I’m joking, Evan thought bitterly.
He hoisted up his backpack and his suitcase and headed for the back door. He passed a mirror in the hall and caught a glimpse of himself in the sweater. “Sick,” he muttered. “I look like a pickle.”
“Evan — what did you say?” his mom called.
“I said, ‘Thanks for the cool sweater!’” he called back to her.
A few seconds later, he was walking through backyards, making his way to Kermit’s house at the end of the block. Maybe I can hide this sweater somewhere, he thought. Maybe I can give it to Kermit as a Christmas present.
No. Kermit is such a shrimp, the sweater would be down to his knees.
It was a sunny, crisp winter day. The sweater glowed under the bright sunlight. It really did remind Evan of Monster Blood.
He pictured the slimy green gunk. He pictured heaps and heaps of it, oozing over the backyards he passed, bubbling and pulsing.
As he walked along, Evan had no idea that he was about to have another Monster Blood adventure.
He had no idea that he was about to discover a whole new kind of Monster Blood.
He had no idea that the green Monster Blood was silly kid stuff compared to the Monster Blood he was about to find.
2
He was nearly to Kermit’s backyard, still thinking about Monster Blood, when a dark shadow swept over him.
He raised his eyes. “Conan—!” he gasped.
A big hulk of a boy loomed in front of him, hands clenched into big fists, blocking Evan’s path. He lived in the house behind Kermit’s.
His name was Conan Barber. But everyone called him Conan the Barbarian. That’s because he was the biggest, meanest kid in Atlanta.
Conan placed the heel of his size-twelve sneaker on top of Evan’s shoe and stomped down hard.
Evan yelped in pain. “Conan — why’d you do that?” he squealed.
“Do what?” Conan grunted. He narrowed his cold blue eyes at Evan.
“You — you crushed my foot!” Evan gasped.
“Accidents happen,” Conan replied. He snickered. Despite the winter cold, he wore a gray muscle shirt and tight black spandex bike shorts. “Here. Let me fix it,” he offered.
And he stomped down with all his might on Evan’s other shoe.
“Owwwwwww.” Evan took a few painful hops, holding his throbbing foot. “What’s the big idea?”
“Breaking in my new sneakers,” Conan replied, snickering again.
Evan wanted to wipe the smile off Conan’s face. But how do you wipe the smile off a kid who’s built like a Monster Truck?
“I’ve got to go,” Evan said quietly. He picked up his suitcase and motioned with his head toward Kermit’s house.
“Hey—!” Conan stared down at the ground. Then he raised his eyes to Evan. “Not so fast. You got the bottoms of my sneakers dirty.”
“Excuse me?” Evan tried to step around Conan. But Conan blocked his path.
“Brand-new sneakers,” Conan grumbled. “And you got the bottoms dirty.”
“But — but—” Evan sputtered.
“Oh, well.” Conan sighed. “I’ll let you go this time.”
Evan’s heart pounded. He breathed a loud sigh of relief. “You will? You’ll let me go?”
Conan nodded. He swept a beefy hand back through his wavy blond hair. “Yeah. You caught me in a good mood. Get going.”
“Th-thanks,” Evan stammered.
Conan stepped aside. Evan started past him.
He stopped when he heard a high, shrill voice ring out: “Leave my cousin alone!”
“Oh, noooo,” Evan moaned. He turned to see Kermit running across the grass.
“Leave Evan alone!” Kermit called. He waved a tiny fist at Conan. “Pick on somebody your own size!”
“Kermit — stay out of this!” Evan shouted.
Kermit stepped up beside Evan. He was tiny and skinny. He had a pile of white-blond hair, a serious face, and round black eyes behind red plastic-framed glasses.
Standing next to Conan, he reminded Evan of a little ant. A bug that Conan could easily crush with one tromp of his heavy-duty size twelves.
“Take a walk, Conan!” Kermit squeaked. “Give Evan a break!”
Conan’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “I was going to give Evan a break,” he growled. “Until you came along. But now I guess I have to teach you both a lesson.”
He turned and grabbed the front of Evan’s sweater.
3
“Evan — what happened to your sweater?” Aunt Dee demanded.
Evan set his suitcase down on the kitchen floor. “Well…”
The left sleeve of his new sweater was normal length. Conan had taken the right sleeve and pulled it… pulled… pulled… until the sleeve dragged on the ground.
“Mom made one sleeve a little too long,” Evan explained. He didn’t want to tell his aunt about Conan.