Dracula vs. Grampa at the Monster Truck Spectacular Read online

  Copyright © 2006 by Kirk Scroggs

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Little, Brown and Company

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue,

  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com.

  First eBook Edition: July 2006

  ISBN: 978-0-316-05461-4

  The “Little, Brown and Company” name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  Book design by Saho Fujii

  The illustrations for this book were done in Staedtler ink on Canson Marker paper, then digitized with Adobe Photoshop for color and shade.

  The text was set in Humana Sans Light and the display type was handlettered.

  This book is for Harold & Betty & Diane & Corey And is in memory of Guy Scroggs and Charles Scroggs, master monster drawer and cool dad.

  Special thanks—

  Suppasak Viboonlarp, Mark Mayes, Kris Gee, Simeon Wilkens, Jackie Greed, Rosa Jimenez, Amy Pennington, lnge Govaerts, Michael Moss

  Andrea, Sangeeta, Saho and the Little, Brown crew—woo hoo!

  And special super-duper deep-fried thanks with ranch seasoning to Ashley & Carolyn Grayson and Dan Hooker

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1: It Takes Guts!

  CHAPTER 2: Just Kickin' It

  CHAPTER 3: A Dream Come True

  CHAPTER 4: Shattered Dreams

  CHAPTER 5: The Trek

  CHAPTER 6: The Woods

  CHAPTER 7: The Gingham County Colosseum

  CHAPTER 8: Skip the Lobster

  CHAPTER 9: The Quest for Snacks

  CHAPTER 10: Drac's Lair

  CHAPTER 11: Looking for Trouble

  CHAPTER 12: Time to Go!

  CHAPTER 13: Never Lie to your Gramma!

  CHAPTER 14: It's a Twister! It's a Twister!

  CHAPTER 15: Home Sweet … Uh-Oh!

  CHAPTER 16: Wiley's Theory

  CHAPTER 17: Wiley's Theory Debunked

  CHAPTER 18: The Shady Transaction

  CHAPTER 19: The Wrath of Gramma

  Meet the Ghoulish Cast:

  Master zombie fighter and dangerous amateur chemist.

  Keeper of the Pork Cracklins. Trained in the fine art of napping.

  Queen of the Rumbling Shifty-Foot technique. Highly skilled in covert rescue operations.

  Master scratcher of furniture and hacker-upper of hair balls.

  Master of the Trembling One-Footed Bat stance. Enjoys show tunes and skull collecting.

  CHAPTER 1

  It Takes Guts!

  Ladies and gentlemen, boys, girls, dogs, and upper marsupials … the story I'm about to tell you is so frightening that I can't recommend it to the faint of heart, pregnant mothers, children under 46” tall, or the easily spooked. If you're scared of bats, rats, or old hippies, then this tale is definitely not for you.

  So turn the page if you think you've got the guts. Otherwise, BEWARE! Children, grab your mammas! Elderly, take your heart medication! Prepare yourselves for the ultimate in raw terror. …

  Don't get scared yet! That's not a monster. It's just Grampa. And that goop in his hand? Those aren't the brains of some poor kid. …

  Those are pumpkin guts. You see, it was Halloween night and Grampa was having his annual jack-o'-lantern carving contest. That's me, Wiley, next to Grampa and over there, that's Merle the cat torturing a june bug.

  “WILEY, MY BOY!” said Grampa, pausing to put on a record. “The secret to an expertly carved pumpkin is to set the proper atmosphere. For tonight's listening pleasure I have selected “The Sound of Mucus” followed by “Old MacDonald Had One Arm and Ninety-nine Buckets of Blood on the Wall.”

  “Two of my favorites!” I replied.

  Alas, it was my turn to gut the next victim.

  “YUCK!” I grimaced as the stringy orange goop squished between my fingers.

  “Kinda looks like one of your Gramma's casseroles, huh?” Grampa joked.

  “I HEARD THAT!” yelled Gramma from the kitchen. “There'll be no Halloween snack treats for you if you keep that up!”

  Gramma's casseroles may taste like pumpkin innards, but her Halloween snack treats are par excellence (that's French for “pretty darn good”). My favorite is her Screaming Skull popcorn balls with marshmallow brains inside.

  At the awards ceremony, my one-eyed pirate was a hit, and Merle the cat presented a simple yet effective piece. Of course, we were no match for Grampa, whose carving of a Mediterranean village clutched first prize – not surprising since he was also the only judge!

  “I call it Pompeii Before the Eruption,” bragged Grampa.

  “Show off,” I muttered.

  CHAPTER 2

  Just Kickin' It

  Next on the agenda was some serious rest and relaxation. Grampa and I kicked back, turned on the tube, and snacked on some black cherry soda and Pork Cracklins (that's deep-fried pig skin in layman's terms).

  “OLD MAN!” yelled Gramma from the kitchen. “You better not get any pork crumbs on my new chair!”

  “IT'S ALL RIGHT, GRANNY!” Grampa replied. “Merle's licking them off the upholstery!”

  “SHHHHHH!” I shushed. “The All-Night Mega Monster Scare-a-thon is about to begin!”

  Dracula Down Under, The Nebraska Weed Whacker Nightmare, and Mayonnaise: The Motion Picture! So turn out the lights, pop some corn, and prepare for utter terror! Tonight's flicks are brought to you by Velvet Knuckles hand lotion. For smooth skin that smells like honeysuckle, it's gotta be Velvet Knuckles.”

  The Dracula flick started off with a bang. A beautiful girl was sprawled on a sofa as a fanged creature of the night approached. He hovered above her, ready to chomp, and then …

  some guy who's had too many chili dogs comes on chuggin' a bottle of Pepty Bizmo.

  “It never fails,” complained Grampa. “Just when it's getting good they gotta cut to a Pepty Bizmo commercial! It's just disgust—”

  CHAPTER 3

  A Dream Come True

  That's when it happened! A TV commercial so awesome it stopped Grampa in mid-gripe.

  “Tonight only!” shouted a crazed announcer. “The Gingham County Colosseum presents Colonel Dracula's Monster Truck Spectacular! Witness over 200 monster vehicles, including the world's only vampire truck! With special musical guest eight-year-old country sensation Lil' Buckaroo and the Texaflo Supreme Unleaded Dancers! Tickets are still available!”

  We stared at the TV, trembling. Pork bits fell from our mouths.

  “World's only vampire truck,” I said.

  “Texaflo Supreme Unleaded Dancers,” Grampa drooled.

  “Meow,” meowed Merle.

  But our bliss was short-lived.

  CHAPTER 4

  Shattered Dreams

  Channel 5's smarmy weatherman interrupted, “Hi, folks! Blue Norther here! I hate to ruin any trick-or-treat plans, but Channel 5's Whopper Doppler Radar has picked up an F5 tornado in the vicinity and if you've seen Twister, you know that's a big one! So stay indoors, stay tuned to me, don't do anything fun whatsoever, and have a wonderful evening!”

  “Grampa,” I pleaded, “we've just gotta get to that truck show! I don't care if there is an F5 tornado!”

  “Wiley,” Grampa replied, “there are more dangerous things than an F5 tornado.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like your Gramma if she finds out we're g
oing to a monster truck show in the middle of an F5 tornado!”

  But it was too late. Gramma stepped in saying, “Don't you two get any harebrained ideas about going to that truck show! Didn't you hear Blue Norther? There's foul weather afoot!”

  Now, Gramma's known to have a temper. You see that thing on her head? That's her anger meter, and the needle in Gramma's anger meter was starting to move into the red zone — a zone you don't wanna visit!

  Grampa was torn. Sure, the idea of ridiculously souped-up monster vehicles destroying one another was hard to resist.

  But was it worth risking certain death by tornado and flood?

  Or, even worse, the wrath of Gramma?

  I was sure Grampa would make the right and responsible decision.

  So he lied to Gramma and told her we were going outside to check on the hounds. “BE BACK IN TWO HOURS!” Grampa yelled back. Gramma looked pretty, pretty miffed.

  Outside, the wind was picking up and thunder rumbled. The storm was approaching! Grampa's two hounds, Esther and Chavez, were already well prepared.

  CHAPTER 5

  The Trek

  On our trek to the colosseum, we saw Nate Farkle trick-or-treating with his kids.

  “Storm's coming!” he warned Grampa. “Blue Norther says there could be an F5 tornado, and if you've seen Twister, you know that's a big one!”

  “I've napped through F5 tornadoes!” Grampa bragged.

  Grampa has been known to exaggerate, but I can verify that he did nap through the Great Septic Tank Explosion of 1999.

  “Wiley,” said Grampa, “if we wanna make it to the truck show in time, we're gonna have to cut through those woods.”

  “You mean those dark, scary, wild animal-infested woods?” I asked nervously.

  “Why, that's the best kind, my boy!”

  CHAPTER 6

  The Woods

  “You see those things up there that look like gnarled skeleton hands reaching out for you?” asked Grampa. “Well, don't worry. They're just tree branches.”

  “And those slimy things moving down around your feet? Don't worry. Those are probably just snakes looking for someplace warm, like your pants leg, to curl up for the night.”

  “Thanks for the words of comfort,” I said.

  “Don't look so worried, Wiley. Everything's gonna be just fine!” said Grampa.

  Boy, was he wrong.

  Lightning flashed!

  The wind wailed!

  Golf ball-sized hail pounded my head!

  Grampa napped!

  CHAPTER 7

  The Gingham County Colosseum

  Finally, we crawled out from the woods—muddy, wet, and itchy. There before us was the Gingham County Colosseum — at least, I think it was the Gingham County Colosseum. Something about it just didn't seem right.

  Inside, the place was a madhouse, stuffed to the brim with freaky people.

  “Grampa,” I said, “all these fans look pretty weird.”

  “It's Halloween, Wiley!” said Grampa. “Everyone's wearing costumes … or just really ugly.”

  Colonel Dracula stepped out in a black suede cape and plaid shirt and greeted the crowd in a funny accent.

  “Velcome to the show, my vonderful friends! Tonight you vill see the most terrifying trucks ever to prowl the streets of Gingham County! But first, let me introduce our opening act!”

  That's when Drac, accompanied by the Texaflo Supreme Unleaded Dancers, broke into a showstopping rendition of the disco classic “I Vill Survive.”

  “I think Drac should just stick to monster trucks,” complained Grampa.

  Finally, Drac brought out the vehicles. “This is gonna be good!” declared Grampa as the trucks hit the floor.

  There was the Behemoth Broncosaurus!

  Vlad, the Impala!

  The Invisible Van, though it wasn't much to look at.

  Even a Werewolf Winnebago!

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, I present my finest creation,” said Dracula. “The Mudsucker! The vorld's first and only vampire truck!

  “Ten liter, eighteen cylinders, all-veel drive, moon-roof, twenty-five disc CD changer vith detachable front, and six cup holders! And best of all — it drives itself! It took twelve mad scientists and twenty-three hunchback assistants over a century to create this baby!”

  “Now,” continued Drac, “I'll need two volunteers from the audience to help demonstrate the awesome appetite of the Mudsucker!”

  “You hear that, Wiley?” said Grampa. “Raise your hand, quick!”

  “I am, I am,” I said, frantically waving my hand, “BUT THIS ISN'T FAIR! THAT KID'S GOT SIX ARMS!”

  But to our shock and delight, Dracula chose us!

  “You, the delicious-looking young child and that leathery, bony old creature beside you. Come on down!”

  “Who's he calling old?” complained Grampa.

  The crowd cheered for us as we stepped out into the arena.

  CHAPTER 8

  Skip the Lobster

  “And now, these brave fools vill get into this classic British Mini Pip-squeak and play the ultimate game of chicken vith my monster truck! The Mudsucker and our guests vill take off at opposite ends of the arena, jump these ramps, and collide head-on above this fiery pit of giant mechanical lobsters!”

  “BOY!” said Grampa. “And to think we were just going to stay home and watch TV all night!”

  “WAIT A MINUTE!” I shouted. “This sounds like suicide!”

  “Nonsense, my dear boy,” said Dracula quietly. “I guarantee it is all perfectly safe. This is all just an act. There is no danger vat — so — ever. Now, if you vould just sign these insurance papers and an organ donor policy before ve begin.”

  We suited up, got in the Mini Pip-squeak, and waited. The tension was unbearable, as was Grampa's underarm odor.

  “Sorry,” said Grampa, “jumping over flaming pits of robot shellfish makes me perspire!”

  Suddenly, Drac gave the signal.

  The Mudsucker took off like a surface-to-air missile launched from the molten core of an erupting volcano!

  Grampa took off with all the fury of a riding lawn mower with three wheels and a broken muffler!

  The Mudsucker reached the end of the ramp and launched into the air like a mighty metal bird!

  Grampa drove over the edge, straight into the open claw of lobster numero uno!

  “WELL, THIS IS IT WILEY!” said Grampa. “Snuffed out by a giant crustacean! I guess this is payback for all those seafood platters I've enjoyed over the years! If I'd only ordered the steak!”

  But, lucky for us, the Mudsucker swooped in and clamped the lobster's claw with one of those lobster-clampy things. We heard a loud CRACK! and the lobster released our car from its deadly grip.

  Then the Mudsucker caught us in its truck bed and, just for good measure, flung the metal lobster into a giant pot of boiling water.

  “WHAT SHOWMANSHIP!” said Grampa as we coasted back down to the ground.

  The crowd stood up and cheered as we exited the Mini Pip-squeak. I was never so glad to be back on solid ground.

  “LET'S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR BRAVE VOLUNTEERS! VOO VOO VOO!” Drac yelled, pumping his fist into the air. “You see, I told you it vas completely safe.”

  “I knew it all along, Drac,” said Grampa, trembling. “Now, if you don't mind, I'll be needing a heart specialist and a fresh pair of drawers!”

  After the lobster incident, it was time for the halftime show with Lil' Buckaroo performing his country smash “Can I Get a Yeehaw?”

  Grampa and I decided we'd rather chew on rusty barbed wire than listen to Lil' Buckaroo, so we headed for the snack bar.

  CHAPTER 9

  The Quest for Snacks

  We waited in line at the snack bar while a rather shaggy gentleman purchased a big, hairy tarantula burger.

  “I don't know much about truck show cuisine,” I confessed, “but I've never seen tarantula burgers on a menu.”

  “It's not so strange, W
iley,” said Grampa. “I ate a caterpillar cheese dog at the boat show just last April!”

  Suddenly, I got the feeling that someone or something was looming over us.

  Sure enough, Colonel Dracula was right behind us …

  and he was staring at Grampa's wallet, mesmerized by the photo of Gramma standing in front of Grampa's 1956 Buick!

  “Are you enjoying the show, my courageous lobster tamers?” Dracula asked.

  “We sure are, Drac!” replied Grampa. “We braved rain, hail, and an angry Gramma just to see your tour de force of vehicular carnage!”

  “Then perhaps you and the boy vould like a backstage tour vere you can meet the Mudsucker up close and personal?” Dracula offered.

  “YOU BET VE VOULD!” exclaimed Grampa.

  I wasn't so enthusiastic.

  CHAPTER 10

  Drac's Lair

  Dracula took us deep into his cavernous lair.

  “Please excuse the mess,” he pleaded.

  “The maid vas eaten by a rabid porcupine.”

  Bats hovered above us. Spiders scurried below.