Beware the Ninja Weenies (5 page)

“Let's get out of here,” Stacy said.

“Yeah. Good idea.”

But as we walked down the street, it felt like my guts were attached to the bag by a fishhook on a rubber band. I tried to keep going, but after two blocks the pain was so bad, I almost fell to my knees. I clutched my stomach and moaned. Stacy moaned, too.

I staggered backward. The pain faded a bit.

I took a couple more steps toward the bags.

The pain was definitely going away. To test it, I moved toward Stacy. The pain grew worse.

“We can't leave the bags,” I said. “I'll get them.”

I grabbed the bags and did something I'm not at all proud of. I gave Stacy my bag. There was no way she could tell. They looked the same.

I didn't want to die. And I remembered the witch's words. Not just the ones promising us that whoever ate her candy first would die. But the other part. Those two words:
irresistible candy.

“Nothing is really irresistible,” Stacy said. “We can be strong.”

“I hope so.” I peeked into the bag. Even now, the sweet smell was tickling my tongue. The craving was worse than the pain. I'd have to eat a piece soon. But I'd eat Stacy's candy, not mine. That might seem terrible, but if one of us was going to die, why should it be me?

We reached my house. I dropped down on the porch steps and tried to calm myself. “Wow, that was weird.” I put the bag by my feet.

“Yeah, totally weird,” Stacy said. “You really think we could die?”

“No way,” I said. “She was just trying to scare us. Right?”

“Yeah, you have to be right. Nobody is that mean.” She sighed. Then she hiccuped.

“Take a deep breath,” I said.

She tried that. It didn't help. “I always hiccup when I get real scared. This is awful.” She slumped down and wrapped her arms around her head, like she wanted to disappear into a tight ball of flesh. Her body jerked with each hiccup. They seemed to be growing stronger.

“I'll get you some water.” I ran in, filled a glass, and brought it back to the porch. Even on the short trip to the kitchen, I could feel my stomach start to hurt. I rushed back with the water. I had to poke Stacy on the shoulder to get her to uncurl enough to take the glass. I was glad I got it for her. I felt especially sorry for her since she was going to die.

We talked for a while, until Stacy felt calm enough to walk home. I held my breath as she stepped away, hoping my stomach wouldn't hurt when she took my candy with her. Then she'd know I'd tricked her, and she'd take her own bag back. But I was fine.

After she left, I tasted the jelly beans. They were beyond delicious. Each one I ate made me crave more. Before I knew it, I'd eaten half the bag. I needed to slow down. I hadn't meant for Stacy to die right away.

A shiver ran through me as I thought about that. She wasn't as strong as I was. If she'd tasted the jelly beans, she could be gobbling up the whole bag right now. I could be close to death!

I opened the bag, scooped up a handful of the jelly beans, and started gobbling them down. My mouth filled with a brilliantly amazing mix of fresh strawberries, chocolate, cinnamon, and an endless, shifting swirl of other flavors. Soon, the bag was empty and I had the last jelly bean in my hand.

Stacy was about to die. We'd been friends forever. I had to admit feeling a ton of guilt. But not enough to keep me from popping the final jelly bean into my mouth. I bit down on it. Another burst of amazing flavor filled my mouth.

“Wait!”

I looked up as I heard the shout. Stacy was running back toward my house.

I put the empty bag behind my back. “What's wrong?” A ripple of fear shot through me at the thought that my trick had been discovered, but there was no way she could have figured out what I'd done.

“I'm a terrible friend,” she said.

“You're a great friend.” I rolled the bitten pieces of the jelly bean between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I really didn't want to see Stacy die right in front of me. I wondered whether she'd just flop over, or wither up in some horrible, witchy ending. Either way, I'd rather not see it happen.

“No, I'm not a great friend. I'm terrible.” She sobbed and held up her bag, which still looked full. “This is yours.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I switched them,” she said. “When you went for the water.”

I gasped. Something got stuck in my throat.

Stacy kept talking. “I took your bag so I could eat all your candy. I didn't want to die. But I realized I couldn't do something so mean and evil to my best friend in the whole world. Maybe neither of us has to die. Maybe we could help each other resist the candy. Do you think that would work? I haven't even eaten a single one yet. Well, maybe one or two. But not a whole lot. I know I can resist them.”

I tried to answer her, but my throat had closed up. The last piece of jelly bean felt like it was swelling. I waved my hand for help, but Stacy was so busy getting rid of her guilt, she didn't seem to notice that I was choking. She just kept talking.

“Can you ever forgive me? I know I was rotten. But I came back and confessed right away. So there wasn't any real harm. Please, say you forgive me.”

I wanted to point at my throat, but I was too weak to lift my arms.

“Okay, I understand,” Stacy said. “You're too angry to talk to me right now. That's okay. I'll come back later. But I promise, I won't eat any more of your jelly beans. I'll take really good care of them.”

Stacy walked away.

The taste in my mouth, the amazing taste of irresistible candy, faded away, along with everything else.

 

CHIPMUNKS OFF THE OLD BLOCK

I
used to love
watching chipmunks. I stopped loving it five or six minutes ago. That's when the drama I was watching ended. The whole thing, from start to finish, didn't take much longer than that.

I was in my backyard. We had a bench under the willow tree. I like to sit there and read, or just watch the squirrels and chipmunks. There are hawks around here, too. And once in a while, I'll spot a woodchuck or a rabbit. I saw a hawk catch a mouse once. That was pretty awesome, although I don't think the mouse shared my enjoyment.

We're not totally in the country, but there's a lot of undeveloped land around here, so the animals have plenty of room to live. You don't have to travel too far to see deer, or even a family of foxes. But chipmunks were the best.

I was watching two chipmunks play some sort of game. One would chase the other. In the middle of a mad dash, they'd switch roles. And then they'd both skitter around like they were trying to catch an invisible friend. They acted pretty much like cartoon characters, except they didn't hit each other with frying pans or toss dynamite at the neighbor's dog. Though they did crash into things once in a while. I couldn't believe how silly they were.

I guess I was watching them too closely, since I didn't notice the spaceship at first. It wasn't so large that it blotted out the sun. It was around the size of a small bus. Though buses aren't shaped like two fighter jets jammed tail to tail. And they aren't made of shiny red metal. It moved silently, which is why I didn't hear it right away, either.

I definitely noticed the spaceship when it landed about ten feet to my left. A hatch opened on top, and two aliens came out. They were about three feet tall, with smooth orange skin and faces like jackals. But friendly jackals.

They had something in their hands. It looked like a bullhorn on a microphone stand. The large end was pointed upward, and the small part was attached to the stand. They jammed the stand into the ground. Then one of them flipped a switch.

The alien spoke. It was a weird sound, like how you'd sing if your tongue were made of sandpaper and your mouth were made of cement. Which is still better than I sound when I sing.

Somehow, real words came out of the cone. I guess it was a translator.

“We need help.”

The other alien spoke. “We seek your most intelligent life-form.”

Cool. I wondered what they needed. I could tell them where to find water. Or how to get in touch with the police. I knew all the local gas stations, too, though I figured the spaceship used some other kind of fuel.

“What do you need?” I asked. I was already picturing myself on the news, or maybe even shaking hands with the president.

A bird swooped past the cone and chirped. Words came out.

“Worms. Looking for worms. Have you seen worms?”

The dog next door barked. The cone translated. “Tommy will be home soon. I love Tommy. Tommy will be home soon. Tommy is my friend. Tommy loves me.”

My cat peered out through the screen in my bedroom window, meowing. “Nap time.”

Two chipmunks dashed up to the cone. They started chittering. A flurry of words came out. I smiled as I tried to guess what they'd say.

“Trajectory, rotation, beryllium, tangent course to the apogee…”

“Conservation of momentum, fractal solutions, ontogeny.”

“Third derivative.”

“Under the asymptote.”

One of the aliens leaned toward them and screamed, “Focus!”

Both chipmunks stopped chittering and stood straight up on their hind legs, staring at the aliens.

“Our inertial guidance system has malfunctioned,” the other alien said. “We believe it is a software issue. But neither of us is sufficiently trained in these things to fix the error.”

“Got it!” one of the chipmunks said.

They started chittering at each other again as they raced onto the ship. I heard some clanks and then, I swear, a typing sound.

“They have such a hard time staying on task,” one alien said.

“That's just because they're so brilliant,” the other said. “I can't imagine being that smart. It must be difficult.”

“It must.”

“I'm glad we managed to get them to focus on our problem.”

A moment later, the chipmunks dashed off the ship.

“All fixed,” one of them said.

“Molybdenum would have made a better hull,” the other said.

“Consider the malleability,” the first one said, and they were off, spewing more words, like a couple physicists trying to rap.

I waved to get the aliens' attention. “I'm pretty smart, too. I got a B-plus on my last math test. Can I see your ship?”

They ignored me and went back through the hatch. I watched them leave. And then I tried to watch the chipmunks as they skittered and frolicked around my yard. But it just wasn't the same anymore. Nothing was.

 

STUCK UP

“I
got it!” Gilbert
shouted as he hustled to his right to snag the line drive. It looked like a tough catch. He knew he'd have to leap if he wanted a chance to stop the ball.

Around the field, he heard shouts and cheers. He also heard Damon yell, “I got it!” But the words didn't sink in. Not right away. Definitely not in time to avoid a collision.

Gilbert figured it all out as he tumbled to the ground after he and Damon crashed together beneath the hissing ball.

For a moment, Gilbert sat where he'd landed, wondering whether he'd broken anything. He heard the distant smack of a ball into a glove. Someone had fielded the drive and thrown it to first.

“You okay?” Damon asked.

Gilbert looked up at his friend, who had already gotten to his feet. “I think so.” As he spoke, he realized that something was different. He probed his mouth with his tongue. Not different—missing.

“Oh, no.…” Gilbert raised a hand to his lips.

“What's wrong?” Damon asked. “You chip a tooth?”

“No. I think I swallowed my gum.” Gilbert scanned the ground all around the spot where he'd landed, hoping to see a large wad of pink Mega-Chew Bubble Gum.

There was no sign of it.

He swallowed, trying to feel whether anything was stuck in his throat. It was hard to tell for sure.

“Really?” Damon asked. “You gulped your gum?”

“Yeah.” Gilbert put a hand against his chest. “I wonder how far down it is.” He tried to sense the location of the gum. Was it in his stomach already?

“Oh, man,” Damon said. “It's going to gum you up.”

“No, it won't,” Gilbert said. But in his mind, he pictured a stomach full of gears and wheels clogged with gum. Big wads of pink gum stretched between the teeth of the gears. The parts tried to turn, but they couldn't. Everything was clogged.

“Yes, it will,” Damon said. “I heard about a kid over in Falworth who swallowed his gum and they had to give him an operation.”

“That's stupid,” Gilbert said. “If gum was that dangerous, they wouldn't sell it to kids.”

As Gilbert spoke, Terry Mackenzie went flying past the ball field on his skateboard. Across the park, Gilbert could see a kid trying to ride his bike while sitting backward on the seat. In a field on the other side of the road, a couple of kids were launching model rockets.

“I don't know,” Damon said. “We can buy all sorts of dangerous stuff.”

Gilbert stood up. He moved slowly, still making sure he hadn't been hurt. Everything seemed fine. But his stomach felt sort of tight, the way it got when he worried about something like a math test or a shot from the doctor.

“Are you going to keep playing?” Damon asked.

“Yeah,” Gilbert said. “No reason not to.” He walked back to his position at second base.

The game went on.

Gilbert made sure there was no chance of crashing when he dived for another line drive. This one wasn't anywhere near as fast as the last one, but he missed it. He felt slow and sluggish.

On his next turn at bat, when he hit a ball through the hole at third, he barely managed to reach first ahead of the throw. It wasn't one of his better days.

After the game, the walk home seemed to take forever. Gilbert paused across the street from his house. He lived on a busy road. Cars rushed by in both directions. There were breaks when he could cross, but Gilbert was afraid to try. He didn't think he could make it. He waited.