Read Online 46 - How to Kill a Monster by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) - Free Book Online
Authors: R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)
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pie.
He eyed it for a moment. Then he lifted it to his mouth and shoved it in.
Yes! I cheered silently. He’s eating it! He’s eating our pie!
He chomped away at the pie. Chomped and shoved more into his huge mouth.
Chomped and shoved. Chomped and shoved.
He licked his big lips as he ate.
He licked his paws.
He rubbed his stomach.
“Oh, no!” I groaned. “He likes it!”
27
I watched the monster shove the last bit of pie into his mouth.
Then he flicked his reptile tongue in and out, licking up every last crumb
from the pie tin.
“It isn’t working,” I moaned to Clark. “He loves it.”
“Now what are we going to do?” he whispered back. He hugged his knees tightly
to his chest to keep them from shaking.
The monster let out a long groan.
I peered out from under the table. I saw the creature’s eyes bug out. They
practically popped out of his head!
A gurgling, choking sound escaped his throat.
He grasped his neck with his two hairy paws.
He groaned again.
His stomach rumbled—a deep rumble. He clutched his stomach and doubled
over.
He uttered a weak cry of pain—and surprise.
Then he dropped dead on the kitchen floor.
“We did it! We did it!” I cheered. “We killed the swamp monster!”
I pulled Clark out from under the table.
I studied the creature from across the room. I was sure he was dead—but I
still didn’t want to get too close.
The monster’s scaly eyelids were closed.
I stared at his chest—to see if it moved. To see if he was breathing.
His chest remained still.
I stared at him a few moments longer.
He didn’t stir.
Clark peered over my shoulder. “Is—is he really dead?” he stammered.
“Yes!” I was sure of it now. Totally sure. “We did it!” I cried. I jumped up
and down joyfully. “We killed the monster! We killed him!”
Clark reached into his back pocket—for his comic book, Creatures from
the Muck. He hurled it across the room. It hit the monster in the head and
fell to the floor.
“I never want to read about swamp monsters again. Never!” Clark cried. “Let’s
get out of here!”
Charley scratched at the door. When we opened it, he leaped out and jumped
all over us. “It’s okay, boy,” I told him, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay.”
I peered into the room where we had locked Charley. “Hey, Clark, I think
there’s a door in here,” I said. “A door that leads out!”
I stepped into the small, dark space—and stumbled over a broom lying on the
floor.
I squinted in the darkness.
Two rusty shovels leaned against the wall to my right. On the left sat a coil
of old hose.
In front of me I saw the door. A door with a large glass window.
I looked out the window—out to the backyard. To the path that ran through
the swamp.
Does that path lead through the swamp to town? I wondered. I decided it was
worth a try.
“We’re almost out of here!” I declared. “We’re almost free!”
I turned the doorknob, but the door was locked. Bolted from the other side,
like all the doors in the house.
“It’s jammed shut,” I told Clark. “But I’ll break the window and we’ll climb
out. No problem.”
The shovels against the wall were big and heavy. I gripped the handle of one
with both hands and took aim.
I swung it back—and felt the floor quake.
I spun around—and heard the roar.
The roar of the swamp monster.
He wasn’t dead.
28
The creature rumbled into the doorway.
Clark and I both shrieked as he took a giant step into the room. His hideous
head made a scraping sound as it brushed against the frame of the door. But he
didn’t even seem to notice.
Clark and I pressed against the wall.
Charley backed into a corner, whimpering. Frightened.
We were trapped.
No way out.
Nowhere to run.
The monster’s eyes shifted from Charley, to me, to Clark. They rested on
Clark for a moment. Then the creature lifted his head and wailed.
“He-he’s going to get me first,” Clark
He eyed it for a moment. Then he lifted it to his mouth and shoved it in.
Yes! I cheered silently. He’s eating it! He’s eating our pie!
He chomped away at the pie. Chomped and shoved more into his huge mouth.
Chomped and shoved. Chomped and shoved.
He licked his big lips as he ate.
He licked his paws.
He rubbed his stomach.
“Oh, no!” I groaned. “He likes it!”
27
I watched the monster shove the last bit of pie into his mouth.
Then he flicked his reptile tongue in and out, licking up every last crumb
from the pie tin.
“It isn’t working,” I moaned to Clark. “He loves it.”
“Now what are we going to do?” he whispered back. He hugged his knees tightly
to his chest to keep them from shaking.
The monster let out a long groan.
I peered out from under the table. I saw the creature’s eyes bug out. They
practically popped out of his head!
A gurgling, choking sound escaped his throat.
He grasped his neck with his two hairy paws.
He groaned again.
His stomach rumbled—a deep rumble. He clutched his stomach and doubled
over.
He uttered a weak cry of pain—and surprise.
Then he dropped dead on the kitchen floor.
“We did it! We did it!” I cheered. “We killed the swamp monster!”
I pulled Clark out from under the table.
I studied the creature from across the room. I was sure he was dead—but I
still didn’t want to get too close.
The monster’s scaly eyelids were closed.
I stared at his chest—to see if it moved. To see if he was breathing.
His chest remained still.
I stared at him a few moments longer.
He didn’t stir.
Clark peered over my shoulder. “Is—is he really dead?” he stammered.
“Yes!” I was sure of it now. Totally sure. “We did it!” I cried. I jumped up
and down joyfully. “We killed the monster! We killed him!”
Clark reached into his back pocket—for his comic book, Creatures from
the Muck. He hurled it across the room. It hit the monster in the head and
fell to the floor.
“I never want to read about swamp monsters again. Never!” Clark cried. “Let’s
get out of here!”
Charley scratched at the door. When we opened it, he leaped out and jumped
all over us. “It’s okay, boy,” I told him, trying to calm him down. “It’s okay.”
I peered into the room where we had locked Charley. “Hey, Clark, I think
there’s a door in here,” I said. “A door that leads out!”
I stepped into the small, dark space—and stumbled over a broom lying on the
floor.
I squinted in the darkness.
Two rusty shovels leaned against the wall to my right. On the left sat a coil
of old hose.
In front of me I saw the door. A door with a large glass window.
I looked out the window—out to the backyard. To the path that ran through
the swamp.
Does that path lead through the swamp to town? I wondered. I decided it was
worth a try.
“We’re almost out of here!” I declared. “We’re almost free!”
I turned the doorknob, but the door was locked. Bolted from the other side,
like all the doors in the house.
“It’s jammed shut,” I told Clark. “But I’ll break the window and we’ll climb
out. No problem.”
The shovels against the wall were big and heavy. I gripped the handle of one
with both hands and took aim.
I swung it back—and felt the floor quake.
I spun around—and heard the roar.
The roar of the swamp monster.
He wasn’t dead.
28
The creature rumbled into the doorway.
Clark and I both shrieked as he took a giant step into the room. His hideous
head made a scraping sound as it brushed against the frame of the door. But he
didn’t even seem to notice.
Clark and I pressed against the wall.
Charley backed into a corner, whimpering. Frightened.
We were trapped.
No way out.
Nowhere to run.
The monster’s eyes shifted from Charley, to me, to Clark. They rested on
Clark for a moment. Then the creature lifted his head and wailed.
“He-he’s going to get me first,” Clark
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