Monster Fish Frenzy Read online

  Copyright © 2006 by Kirk Scroggs

  All rights reserved.

  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: October 2006

  ISBN: 978-0-316-05519-2

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

  Series design by Saho Fuji

  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.

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1: Sounds Fishy to Me

  CHAPTER 2: Tentacle Lickin’ Good

  CHAPTER 3: The Tail of Moby Fizz

  CHAPTER 4: A Vord of Varning!

  CHAPTER 5: Yo Ho Ho and a Bucket of Chum

  CHAPTER 6: Bubble Trouble

  CHAPTER 7: Piranha Point

  CHAPTER 8: Tail of Destruction

  CHAPTER 9: As the Worm Turns

  CHAPTER 10: An Imperfect Strom

  CHAPTER 11: Take It from a Big Mouth

  CHAPTER 12: Captain's Log

  CHAPTER 13: The Island of Lost Hippies

  CHAPTER 14: Extreme Boat Makeover

  CHAPTER 15: Big Mouth Strikes Again!

  CHAPTER 16: A Pleasant Development

  CHAPTER 17: Hanging Around Fish Organs

  CHAPTER 18: Sayonara Robo-carp!

  CHAPTER 19: Will the Real Moby Fizz Please Stand Up?

  CHAPTER 20: Reunited and It Feels So Slimy

  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.

  Gassy, prehistoric menace of Lake Putrid. If you see bubbles, you got troubles.

  This book is in memory of Sam Smith,

  master boater and joke teller.

  Special thanks—

  Suppasak Viboonlarp; Mark Mayes; Jackie Greed; Alejandra; Neil and Debbie and Kai Gowensmith; Jim Jeong; the men crew woo woo!

  Andrea, Sangeeta, Saho, Alison and the Little, Brown Crew-yippy!

  Mike, Deborah and Dante Parker; An extra-gassy special thanks to Dav Pilkey.

  And an extra crusty thanks to Ashley & Carolyn Grayson and Dan Hooker

  And Diane and Corey Scroggs

  CHAPTER 1

  Sounds Fishy to Me

  Ladies and Gentlemen, you are about to encounter a species of fish thought to be extinct for 65 million years—Big Bassosaurus Rex. It weighs approximately 6 tons. That's 2,650,003 fish sticks for all you less-educated people out there. If you meet up with this fish, do not make any sudden movements, and whatever you do, never call it cruel names like Blubber Butt or Big Lips Pooperstink! Proceed with extreme caution!

  Don't get scared yet! That's not the bloated, bloodshot eye of a monster kid-eating fish!

  That's just Paco, Grampa's prize pet goldfish. And that's me, Wiley, filming Grampa and Paco for America's Most Talented Animals.

  “Please observe,” I said quietly, “as Grampa feeds Paco his favorite cuisine, Pork Cracklins.”

  Paco's even crazier for Pork Cracklins than Grampa is. In fact, he can detect Cracklins from miles away and he'll do anything for those succulent pork bits.

  He can leap through sizzling beer-battered onion rings.

  He can play dead.

  He even does a mean Elvis!

  “I wish you two wouldn't go on about that fish!” complained Gramma. “You're gonna upset Merle! After all, he's a talented animal, too. Just look at him!”

  GRAMMA'S ANGER METER (Approaching the Red Zone!)

  “You're right, Granny,” said Grampa. “But he's no match for this fish. Paco's gonna make us so rich we'll blow our noses on $100 bills! The world will be our oyster!”

  “Oyster!” I shouted, interrupting Grampa's loony rambling. “I almost forgot! It's All-You-Can-Eat Fried Oyster & Waffle Night at the Crustacean Plantation! We've only got two hours left!”

  CHAPTER 2

  Tentacle Lickin’ Good

  Crustacean Plantation, Gingham County's swankiest seafood restaurant, was filled to the brim with satisfied diners.

  We were met at the door by Captain Gerald, the one-handed owner of the restaurant.

  “Ahoy there!” said Captain Gerald. “You fine folks sit right down and make yerselves at home while we stuff your bellies with the finest deep-fried marine critters this side of the Gulf of Mexico!”

  The food was squidliscious! Gramma and I got started on the oysters and waffles while Grampa had an octopus salad with Zesty ranch dressing.

  “Hey, that reminds me,” I said. “In school today, we learned that a sea cucumber is the only creature that can spit up its internal organs and then grow new ones.”

  “Wiley!” said Gramma, shocked and sickened. “Not while we're eating!”

  “Yeah!” said Grampa, a ranch-drenched tentacle hanging out of his mouth. “What are you trying to do? Gross us out?”

  “Can I get ye some more fried oysters and waffles?” asked Captain Gerald.

  “Ye sure can,” I said, “with extra syrup!”

  “Shiver me timbers!” said Captain Gerald. “I haven't seen an appetite like yours since the fish that swallowed me hand!”

  I was intrigued. “You mean…”

  “Moby Fizz!” gasped everyone in the restaurant at the same time.

  “Moby Fizz!” said Crusty O'Hoolihan, local fisherman. “That fish was burped up from the bowels of purgatory! Big as a double-wide trailer and twice as mean!”

  “That cursed fish ate my pet poodle, Dinky!” said Marjorie Millner, local old person. “He went out for a dog paddle and I never saw him again!”

  “Aaay!” continued Captain Gerald. “One minute I'm synchronized swimming with the boys, the next, I'm in the hospital with one hand missin’. There's only one man who's laid eyes on Moby Fizz and still has all of his limbs. In fact…

  he's sitting right there!”

  “What, what?” Grampa said, jolted out of his nap. “Is it time for dessert?”

  “We wanna hear about Moby Fizz!” I said.

  “Moby Fizz! Moby Fizz! Moby Fizz!” we all chanted, banging our maple-syrup dispensers on the table.

  “All right! All right!” Grampa said. “The tale I'm about to tell you is so secret and personal that I've never told it to anyone other than all my friends and family at every social gathering for the last seventy-five years.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The Tail of Moby Fizz

  “It all started many, many years ago when I was a tiny ragamuffin, no taller than a bag of grain. Today, you know me as Grampa, but back then, people called me Ishmael.”

  “I thought they called you Little Stinker,” said Gramma.

  Don't interrupt me, Granny,” said Grampa. Call me Ishmael.”

  “One day, I decided to prove my manhood and embark on a solo fishing voyage. Just me and the open water…and my favorite stuffed animal, Captain Froggy, of course. We set out on a little wooden dinghy into the heart of Lake Putrid. The swells were about 5 feet, the wind was at 10 knots, and my hair was looking particularly stylish.

  “Everything was going wonderfully…

  that is, until we were attacked by the biggest, most bloated, most deformed bass the world has ever known! In one gulp it swallowed us up-boat, frog-the whole enchilada!

  “So t
here we were, stuck inside of a monster fish with the million other things he had swallowed.

  ‚Well, this is it, Captain Froggy,’ I said. ‚We're done for! Doomed to be digested in a fish's gut for all eternity! This is sure gonna look silly on our tombstones.’

  FIZZ

  “Lucky for us, Moby had swallowed a shipment of carbonated, fizzy water on its way to a circus-clown colony on the North Shore. I shook every one of those bottles of fizzy water until they exploded, filling the air in Moby's stomach with carbon dioxide gas. Pretty soon the fish started to bloat and rumble until…

  Moby Fizz let out the biggest release of natural gas since The Great Texas Chili Cook-Off of 1907! The burp blew me clear out over Lake Putrid.

  “But Captain Froggy didn't make it. He was caught on Moby's teeth like a piece of spinach. Those blubbery fish lips closed on Froggy and he slipped down beneath the waves never to be seen again.

  “I floated for days until I was rescued by the Gingham County female waterskiing team, the Ladies of the Lake. A small, round girl about my age carried my withered, little body as we skied back to shore.

  “And that,” concluded Grampa, “was the first time I laid eyes on Gramma and we began our life together, which is another tale of terror entirely that we don't have time to get into right now.”

  The crowd was stunned by Grampa's story.

  “Death to Moby Fizz!” screamed Crusty O'Hoolihan.

  “Avenge my poodle!” demanded Marjorie Milliner.

  “Where are my waffles?!” shouted a disgruntled diner.

  “Aaaay!” said Captain Gerald. “Let's have ourselves a little contest! I'll offer a king's bounty to whoever finds Moby Fizz! Dead or alive or deep-fried-let's go fishin’!”

  CHAPTER 4

  A Vord of Varning!

  “Leave ze fish be,” said a creepy voice. It was Dr. Hans Lotion and his grandson, jurgen. “If you disturb zat fish, it vill bring grave misfortune on Gingham County. It vill eat your children as if zey vere tangy, chewy gummy bears!”

  We all took Dr. Lotion's warning very seriously.

  “Did I mention I'll throw in free all-you-can-eat fried oysters and waffles?” said Captain Gerald.

  The next day, everyone in town showed up at Lake Putrid to hunt Moby Fizz. My best friend, Jubal, joined our team and Gramma packed us some of her world-famous pimento and cheese sandwiches.

  Pimento and cheese! Thanks, Granny,” said Grampa. “We can use it to plug up any leaks should we start sinking!”

  The contestants prepped their boats and checked their gear and fish weaponry.

  Even Grampa's hounds, Esther and Chavez, got in on the action.

  CHAPTER 5

  Yo Ho Ho and a Bucket of Chum

  Spirits were high as we set forth on our grand adventure! First, we did an equipment check.

  Life jackets-check!

  Assorted hooks, tackle, and slimy bait-check!

  One vat of chum made from fish guts, rotten eggs, buttermilk, and horseradish-check!

  Um!” said Grampa, smacking his lips. “This chum's not half bad! Kinda tastes like one of your Gramma's power smoothies!”

  I heard that!” yelled Gramma from the shore.

  “Grampa,” I said, pulling out a rather scary-looking map…

  “before we get too far, there are some areas on this map of Lake Putrid that we should definitely avoid like…”

  “Maps shmaps!” said Grampa. “I've been lost on this lake dozens of times for days on end and I never needed a map! Why, I can just sniff the wind and follow my nose and it will lead us straight to that stinky beast!”

  So Grampa sniffed the wind and his nose led us straight to…

  It was Vera, Gingham Elementary's world-renowned lunch lady and master food poisoner!

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, horrified.

  “Oh, hello, sweety!” Vera replied. “I'm just gathering algae and water bugs for Monday's lunch special. I call it Sweet and Sour Seafood Surprise.”

  “I gotta remember to pack my lunch,” said Jubal.

  Vera whipped out an electronic contraption. “I have to warn you boys. My Electromagnetic Radar Fish Detector thingy's picked up a large mass in these waters.”

  “Wow!” I said. “She's got an Electromagnetic Radar Fish Detector thingy!”

  “You don't need a fancy gizmo to find Moby,” said Grampa. “Ever since my little fizzy water incident, Moby's been gassier than an Exxon station. All you gotta do is watch for the bubbles. If you see bubbles, you got troubles!”

  CHAPTER 6

  Bubble Trouble

  All of a sudden, the water churned with bubbles and Moby Fizz surfaced beneath Vera! Moby stared at us with an eye as big as a trampoline.

  “We're gonna need a bigger boat,” I said.

  “And a lot of tartar sauce!” added Jubal.

  CHAPTER 7

  Piranha Point

  As quickly as he had appeared, Moby swam away. But Vera had been knocked overboard!

  “Holy mackerel!” I shouted, pulling out my map. “If my calculations are correct, we're in Piranha Point! Legend has it that a disgruntled pet store employee released a piranha in this cove years ago and now the place is teeming with them! We've got to get her out of the water! A school of piranha can devour a water buffalo in sixty-five seconds!”

  “Wow!” said Jubal. “It takes me at least ten minutes!”

  “That piranha business is just an old wives’ tale!” said Grampa. “Look, I'll put my hand in the water and nothing will happen!”

  “Okay,” said Grampa, “maybe swimming isn't such a good idea!”

  Unfortunately, a school of piranha had already homed in on Vera's splashing and was heading her way!

  “We've got to do something!” shouted jubal.

  He was right. I had to act fast.

  So I pushed Jubal into the lake!

  “Hey, piranha!” I shouted. “Come over here! Eat my friend instead! He's got a lot more meat on his bones and he's low in polysaturated fats!”

  The school of piranha fell for it and changed course. Now they were heading directly toward Jubal!

  At the last minute, just as the little beasties were about to sink their teeth into jubal's soft hide, I tossed one of Gramma's pimento and cheese sandwiches into the lake.

  The piranha went for the sandwich while Jubal and Vera climbed onboard. Everyone was safe and sound.

  Except for the piranha. They didn't survive the pimento and cheese sandwich.

  “I'll never underestimate the power of your Gramma's cooking again,” said Grampa.

  “I heard that!” yelled Gramma from the shore.

  CHAPTER 8

  Tail of Destruction

  “Toodles!” said Vera as we departed. “Thanks for rescuing me! I'm gonna make you a special dish for lunch on Monday!”

  “You shouldn't!” I yelled back. “Really, you shouldn't!”

  As we headed deeper into Lake Putrid, we saw that Moby Fizz had left a trail of total devastation. The other contestants and their boats were in shambles!

  We floated up to Nate Farkles, clinging to all that was left of his boat-his prize collection of ceramic penguins.

  “I don't know what happened,” said Nate. “All I did was throw a razor-sharp harpoon at Moby Fizz and he goes and destroys my boat!”

  “Hang in there!” said Grampa. “Help is on the way! I wish we could help, but this boat's reached maximum weight capacity. Besides, I've got a monster fish to find and a stuffed frog to avenge!”

  CHAPTER 9

  As the Worm Turns

  Moments later, we heard a sickening slurping noise.

  “Stop the boat!” I said. “Shhhhhhh! Listen.”

  “It's Moby Fizz!” said Jubal. “He's found us!”

  But the slurping seemed to be coming from the ice cooler, and it was getting louder and slurpier.

  Grampa reached over slowly and pulled off the lid to find…

  It was Merle, and he was s
lurping up earthworms like fettuccine Alfredo!

  “A stowaway!” exclaimed Grampa. “In the pirate days, this sneaky varmint would've had to walk the plank for this!”

  “I don't think Gramma would like that,” I said.

  As time went by, Grampa became more and more determined to find Moby Fizz. He just wasn't himself. He got all whiskery and disheveled and wasn't gonna stop until he found that fish.

  It was hard on us kids, too. The labor was back-breaking, the sun beat down on us with no mercy, food was scarce, and scurvy was setting in!

  “I can't believe we've only been out here for two hours,” said Jubal.

  And as if things couldn't get any worse, Blue Norther, channel 5's smarmy weatherman, appeared on Grampa's portable combo T.V./radio/toaster/espresso maker.

  “Hi, folks! Our Whopper Doppler radar's picked up a northern front from Iceland and this swirlylooking cloud thing from Peru. If these two systems collide it'll probably be real bad. So stay inside and stay off Lake Putrid! In the next few minutes, that lake will become a churning, swirling death trap! Have a wonderful day!”

  “Grampa,” I pleaded, “you heard Blue Norther. This dinky little boat can't withstand a thunderstorm, let alone a swirly cloud thing from Peru! Let's head back to shore!”