Wiley & Grampa #8: Phantom of the Waterpark (Wiley & Grampa's Creature Features) Read online

  Begin Reading

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Special Thanks to:

  Steve Deline, Jackie Greed, Mark Mayes, Hiland Hall, Alejandra, Inge Govaerts, Suppasak Viboonlarp, Joe Kocian, Jim Jeong, Hickelbee’s, Amy Wilson, Andrea, Jill, Ames, Alison, Elizabeth, Saho, Maria, and the Little, Brown Crew–yahoo!!

  A wet and wild thanks to Ashley & Carolyn Grayson, Dav Pilkey, Christa and Andrea and the Mrs. Nelson’s Books crew, and Helen Coronato.

  And an extra wrinkled waterlogged thanks to Mamacita, Corey and Candace, and Harold Aulds.

  CHAPTER 1

  Beat the Heat

  Ladies and gentlemen, thrill seekers from all over the globe and parts of lowa… step right up and brave the most terrifying water ride this side of a broken fire hydrant. You’ll plummet down steep drops, hit speeds guaranteed to make you hurl, and land face-first into a churning pool of frothy water and oily suntan lotion residue.

  Hold on to your swim trunks!

  The water is rougher than expected! Notice the way it winds wildly around the craggy curves and through the rocky crevices.

  Wait a minute! Those are just rivers of sweat running down Grampa’s wrinkly forehead. You see, a horrible heat wave had hit Gingham County and it had forced Grampa to sit around in his underwear all day—actually, he does that anyway.

  It was so hot that Gramma had to cool off Paco the goldfish’s bowl with ice cubes.

  Merle was forced to eat fish-flavored ice cream instead of his usual Kitty Kutlets cat food.

  Jubal and I tried to play in the sprinkler, but all that came out was hot steam.

  “This is hopeless,” I said.

  “Oh well,” said Jubal. “At least I can use this opportunity to steam some veggies.”

  “I give up,” said Grampa. “The AC’s not workin’, it’s a hundred and three degrees in the shade, and my butt’s stuck to the chair. It’s so hot, the jalapeños are complaining! I think I’m just gonna melt into a big puddle of goo right here.”

  “Oooh!” said Gramma. “Then I’d better go get the mop.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Emergency Blues Flash!

  The news wasn’t getting any better.

  “Hi, folks! This is Blue Norther coming to you live in leopard print bikini briefs. Why, you ask? Cuz it’s hotter than habanero horseradish, that’s why. Officials say there’s a shortage of drinking water, and local 7-Elevens say they’re desperately low on blue raspberry Slurpees. Have a wonderful day!”

  Then our prayers were answered. We saw an amazing, tantalizing, exhilarating commercial for Gingham County’s best water park, Castle Waterhösen.

  The park’s owner, Dame Judy Drenched, invited everyone to come: “We strive to bring you the most terrifying, gut-wrenchingly extreme rides guaranteed to turn you white with fright. Bring the children!”

  “That’s it!” I yelled. “That’s how we’ll beat the heat. At Castle Waterhösen.”

  “And looky!” said Gramma. “There’s a coupon in the paper. If we bring five empty Pork Cracklins bags we get in for half price.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Kersplashic Park

  So, we managed to find a few empty bags of Pork Cracklins and headed for our wet wonderland.

  “Ooh! Ooh!” I said. “I think I can see it!”

  And there it was. Castle Waterhösen—forty acres of liquid fun.

  “I can smell the chlorine and the funnel cakes already,” said Grampa.

  After waiting in a ridiculously long line, we were let in to the park—except for Merle. There was a strict “No Cat” policy, which was a shame because Merle was dying to try out his new bathing suit.

  First we posed for a photo with Mildred the Merpig, Castle Waterhösen’s beloved mascot.

  They even printed the pic on a coffee mug for just $28.50.

  We checked out the map of the park to figure out what to ride first.

  “Let’s start out with something simple and work our way up to insanely bonkers,” said Grampa.

  CHAPTER 4

  The River Mild

  We got off to a dull start on the least exciting ride ever, Old Man River.

  “Grampa,” I said, “this ride’s about as thrilling as a nap on a rainy day.”

  “I think it’s relaxing,” said Grampa. “Besides, your Gramma can’t take anything too scary. She’s very delicate.”

  “Delicate my patooty!” yelled Gramma. “I came here for some extreme thrills! Now get up off that lazy river and let’s go hit some waves!”

  “Righteous!” said Grampa.

  “Hot diggity dog! Let’s go!” I said as we reached for our beach towels to dry off.

  “Wait a minute!” I said. “That’s not a beach towel. Grampa, you’re drying your butt with Merle!”

  “I thought something felt a little whiskery back there,” said Grampa.

  “It was me,” said Gramma. “I just couldn’t leave Merle outside so I snuck him in disguised as a beach towel. Please don’t report me to the authorities!”

  “I’ll think about it,” said Grampa.

  CHAPTER 5

  Now That’s More Like It!

  So, Merle joined us on some pretty killer rides like the thrilling Runaway Spitwad.

  The dizzying Spin Cycle, which turned out to be good, clean fun.

  The simple, yet effective, Big Hose Down.

  And the zesty Chili Dog Derby, flowing with actual three-alarm chili.

  “Next stop, Hammerhead Mountain,” I said.

  “Sixteen stories of tube chutes, jagged rocks, and robot sharks.”

  “It looks so inviting,” said Grampa.

  “All right,” said Grampa as we got in. “This ride is extremely intense and terrifying and probably dangerous. There’s a good chance you could lose a leg or possibly an earlobe. Granny, you go first.”

  We shot down the chute at warp speed. It was awesome!

  “Weeeeeee!!!” said Gramma.

  “I hate to spoil the party,” said Jubal, “but look behind us!”

  A humongous hammerhead shark was breathing right down my neck!

  “I don’t want to alarm anyone,” I said, “but you might want to start paddling. Fast!”

  “Don’t worry, Wiley!” said Grampa, spinning around. “It’s just a mechanical shark. Those aren’t real shark teeth. They’re just razor-sharp steel replicas. These robots are programmed not to harm the guests. Look, I’ll put my feet in his mouth.”

  Suddenly, the jaws of the shark slammed shut, just nipping Grampa’s toes!

  “I’m all right!” said Grampa. “I needed a good toenail clipping anyway.”

  The robo shark kept coming!

  “Look!” I yelled. “Up there on that rock shaped like a crab eating a chili burger. That guy in the mask and cheap Dracula outfit is operating the shark by remote control.”

  We had to stop the shark ourselves. Jubal and I shoved our tubes into the hammerhead’s mouth.

  “Quick, Merle!” I said. “These tubes are deflating fast!”

  Merle used his famous cat-snorkeling ski
lls to swim under the belly of the beast and his superior mechanical skills to deactivate it.

  We spilled out into the pool at the bottom of the mountain, dead robot and all.

  “Let’s ride it again!” shouted Gramma.

  Park owner, Dame Judy Drenched, showed up to inspect the faulty shark.

  “We regret any harm our malfunctioning sharks may have caused. Anyone who may have lost a limb or a relative shall receive a coupon for a free order of seasoned curly fries at our Supreme Food Court.”

  “Seasoned curly fries,” said Grampa. “Now that’s customer service!”

  CHAPTER 6

  Wet and Weird

  “Stay alert, Jubal,” I said. “Keep your eyes peeled for that shadowy figure. There’s something strange afoot. Even stranger than Grampa.”

  “That’s pretty strange,” said Jubal.

  On our way to the next ride, we ran into Nate Farkles, Gingham’s finest veterinarian.

  “G’day, Nate!” I said. “Hey, why don’t you join us on our next terrifying ride?”

  “Why not?” said Nate. “Let me just drop off the kiddos first.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Snot so Fast

  Next stop, the Nasal Drop, where riders plunge twenty feet from the schnoz of an authentic Easter Island statue.

  “We can choose between three different nose speeds,” I said, “sniffles, sneezy, or snot blasters.”

  “Hey, you guys pick the nose and I’ll get in it,” said Grampa.

  Gramma went on the more advanced snot blaster while we went on the sniffler.

  “Who knew a runny nose could be this fun?” said Jubal.

  Then it was Grampa’s and Nate’s turn.

  But there was a problem in the left nostril. Grampa and Nate went in, but nothing came out! We heard a loud scream from deep within the nostril.

  Rescue teams swooped in with heavy-duty tissues and a King Kong–size bottle of nose spray.

  Finally, the blocked nostril gave way and Grampa came flying out with the fury of a sneezing water buffalo.

  CHAPTER 8

  Nothing to See Here

  Grampa was on his back and beside him was a strange lollipop that must have fallen out of the nose.

  “Grampa!” I said. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “It was horrible!” said Grampa dramatically.

  “Nate and I were zooming through the nostril laughing and singing the theme to Scooby Doo.

  “That’s when we spotted that pint-sized punk blocking our way. He smelled like lollipops and corned beef.

  “Nate vanished and I hung on to a nose hair for dear life. The next thing I can remember is lying here on my back.”

  Once again, Dame Judy Drenched showed up.

  “We apologize for your missing friend,” she said. “Please accept this coupon for a free cinnamon sugar churro.”

  “Churro?!” I said. “Lady, you’ve got a phantom on the loose, killer robot sharks, and a faulty schnoz. You’ve gotta close down this park!”

  “Did she say cinnamon sugar?” asked Grampa.

  “Don’t worry, my precious loved ones,” said Grampa. “Dame Drenched might not seem to care, but I won’t stand for it. I will not rest until we uncover this phantom menace and find Nate Farkles. Now, let’s go get some fried pickles and jalapeño corn dogs.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Hans Solo

  Near the concession stand, we spotted something even more terrifying than the phantom.

  “Ooh!” squealed Gramma with delight. “The salsa supershow is starting in five minutes!”

  “Oh, joy,” I moaned. “No small boy should have to see an amusement park musical show. It’s child abuse!”

  The director of the show was Hans Lotion and his grandson, Jurg—hey, wait a minute! His grandson, Jurgen, was nowhere to be found. That was pretty weird.

  “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” said Hans. “Velcome to ze show. I hope you brought your boogie shoes because ve are going to tear ze roof off zis hizzy!”

  The Big Hair Sugar Sisters came out hula hooping with shiny mirrored inner tubes to sing their opening number, “Undersea Salsa Shakedown”.

  “Let’s get outta here before I get seasick,” said Grampa.

  So we left Gramma to enjoy the show and headed over to the most terrifying ride ever….

  CHAPTER 10

  Creature from the Nacho Cheese Lagoon

  “The Nacho Xtreme!” I said. “Where we’ll ride giant tortilla chips down a mountain on rivers of actual nacho cheese.”

  “You had me at nacho cheese,” said Grampa.

  The ride was cheese-tastic! We shot through canyons of corn chips on a torrent of whitewater queso.

  “Isn’t this awesome?” I said.

  “Uhmm hmmmm yummmh!” said Grampa. Don’t ask me what that means—his mouth was full of nacho cheese.

  That’s when it happened. The dreaded phantom floated by on a giant jalapeño.

  “Look out!” I yelled. “We’ve got company.”

  But before I could make a move, a giant claw came up out of the cheese!

  Out popped a creature that was half human/ half crawdad/all ugly!

  “I don’t know what it is,” said Grampa, “but I bet it’d taste delicious with some melted butter and proper seasoning.”

  I managed to temporarily blind the beast with a squirt of super-spicy jalapeño juice.

  Jubal did a leaping Muenster Cheese Missile Kick, but he missed and nailed Fran Calhoon’s monster hairdo instead.

  Grampa scared the crawdad with a jar of premium tartar sauce (sworn enemy of all things fishy).

  Merle challenged the karate crayfish to a monster catfight.

  CHAPTER 11

  Salsa Y Queso

  Merle and the monster battled so fiercely that they formed a giant cheese ball that rolled down the mountain of corn chips and landed smack dab on the stage, right in the middle of “Besame Mucho”!

  Mildred the Merpig jumped up onstage and did a quick flamenco number with the crawdad and his crab claw castanets.

  “We can’t work like this!” yelled the Sugar Sisters. “We’re being upstaged by a samba-lovin’ shrimp in flip-flops!”

  Then the beast ran off with Merle.

  CHAPTER 12

  Catnapped!

  “We’ve gotta get Merle! He’s been swiped!” I yelled.

  “All right, but first I need to stop by Pepty Bizmo Peak,” said Grampa, clutching his belly. “I ate too much nacho cheese.”

  “Okay,” I said. “To find Merle we’ve got to examine the clues and retrace our steps. Jubal, write this down—it’s very important. First, there was the mystery lollipop just like the kind Jurgen eats. Then, Jurgen was mysteriously missing during the nightmare musical number. I smell a rat and I think that rat’s name is Jurgen!”

  “Actually, there’s a rat standing behind you,” said Jubal.

  “Quick!” I said. “Let’s look at that photo on the mug again. Just as I thought. Hans and Jurgen are entering a secret hatch in the background. Does anyone remember where that hatch is?”

  “Wiley, I can’t even remember what I ate for breakfast this morning,” said Grampa.

  “Well,” said Gramma, “luckily, I snuck in our prized bloodhounds disguised as Swedish tourists.”

  “You snuck in Esther and Chavez?” Grampa asked.

  “Shhhh! Today, they’re Inga and Ulrich,” whispered Gramma. “I just couldn’t leave them in that hot yard all day.”

  We let Esther—I mean Inga—sniff the mystery lollipop.

  Ulrich closely examined the coffee mug.

  Then they led us on a grand journey of sniffing and snooping and occasional scratching.

  CHAPTER 13

  Sweet and Sewer Chicken

  Inga and Ulrich located the secret hatchway, and they guarded the entrance while we went inside.

  “I can’t believe we’re crawling into the rear end of a giant chicken,” said Jubal.

  “Don
’t say I never took you anywhere,” said Grampa.

  We dropped down into the sewer system beneath Castle Waterhösen. It was cold, drippy, slimy, and smelled like a grizzly bear’s underwear.

  “This place is gross,” I said.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Grampa. “If you add a few pillows, some throw rugs, and a few scented candles, it’d make a lovely room for zombies or rabid rodents.”

  Suddenly, we spotted a bunch of tiny little beady eyes peering out at us from the darkness.

  “Don’t be scared,” said Grampa. “Those are probably just the eyes of hundreds of vampire bats just looking for a light snack.”

  “Those aren’t bats,” I said, “they’re beavers. And they’re clutching one of Merle’s hair balls! Where did you get that hair ball, little guy?”