Goosebumps Most Wanted #5: Dr. Maniac Will See You Now (4 page)

Ernie bounced into the front hall. He crossed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at me.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated.

Then I saw Bree walk in behind him. She shook her head hard, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “I brought you a surprise,” she said. “Him!”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why — ?”

“Why are you on your knees on the floor?” Bree demanded.

“Oh.” I climbed quickly to my feet. “I … uh … dropped a bus token,” I lied.

“Your mom stopped me on the way to the museum,” she said. “She dropped him with me. She said we have to watch the little monster.”

Ernie let out a loud roar. He likes being called a monster. He thinks it’s a compliment.

Bree bent down to rub her shin. “Will you tell him to please stop pinching my leg?”

“Ernie, stop pinching Bree’s leg,” I said.

He roared again. “I’m a monster. I have to pinch.” He burst out laughing. He really cracks himself up. Then Ernie took off, running down the long hall, his arms stretched out like he was flying, roaring at the top of his lungs.

“We’ve got bigger problems than Ernie,” I told Bree.

She lowered her backpack to the floor and unzipped her jacket. She gazed around. “Hey, Richard, where
is
everyone?”

“Something strange is going on,” I said. “A guy told me the museum is closed.”

She picked up her backpack. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“No! Wait!” I cried. “I’m not sure what’s happening. I mean —”

I suddenly realized I didn’t see Ernie. “Hey — Ernie!” I shouted. “Ernie! Where are you?”

The kid loves to wander off and make everyone look for him. Dad refuses to take him to the mall because he always gets lost. On purpose.

Mom thinks that’s cute. She calls him
My Little Explorer
.

Bree and I both stared down the long front hall. “Do you see him anywhere?” I asked Bree.

She shook her head. “Let him go. He’s a total pain. He must have learned it from you.”

Ha-ha. I was in no mood for Bree’s sarcasm.

I spun away from Bree and ran down the hall. My sneakers thudded against the hard marble floor. I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted my brother’s name.

It didn’t take long to find him. He had climbed the statue of Wonder Bat and was hiding behind the wings.

“Get off that!” I cried. “This isn’t a playground. It’s a museum.”

“So?”

I made a grab for him, but he scrambled away. “You’re going to fall off and break your neck,” I said.

“So?”

I grabbed his ankles. He tried to squirm onto Wonder Bat’s head. But I tugged hard, and he came toppling to the floor. “Stay off the statues,” I snapped. “They’re very valuable.”

“So?”

I pulled him up from the floor. He tried to bite my hand, but I was too quick for him. Nice kid, huh?

Bree hurried over to us. She had her backpack on her shoulders. “Are we staying here?” she demanded. “If the museum is closed —”

“I wanted to show you everything they have,” I said. “But something very weird is going on.”

“Then let’s leave. We can do our project at the Flower Museum. That’s my favorite.”

“The
what
? Did you say Flower Museum?”

She didn’t answer. She was staring straight ahead. Her green eyes bulged in shock.

I turned and saw the big man bouncing toward us. I recognized his insane costume instantly. He wore silvery armor over blue-and-green tights and a leopard-skin cape. His tall white boots were covered in yellow feathers. His head was tossed back as he ran, and he let out a shrill, high-pitched giggle.

Dr. Maniac!

I froze and stared with my mouth hanging open.
How can this be? It’s impossible! Dr. Maniac is a comic book character.

Ernie jabbed me in the side with his elbow. “Who’s the freak?” he whispered.

“Shut up,” I whispered back. “It’s Dr. Maniac. He — he —”

“Where am I?” Maniac cried. “What’s happening?”

He stopped a few feet in front of us and gazed all around. He ran his hand through his wild, unbrushed red hair. The leopard-skin cape fluttered behind him. “Where am I? Is this Cincinnati? How did I get to Cincinnati?”

“This isn’t Cincinnati,” I said.

He blinked. He squinted at the three of us. “Who are you?”

Before we could answer, his eyes landed on me. “AHA!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “THERE you are! My ARCHENEMY!”

His eyes narrowed. His face filled with menace. He moved toward me.

“No!” I cried. “I — I’m not your enemy. I’m Richard Dreezer.”

“Your disguise is good,” Maniac said. “But you can’t fool me. You call yourself Richard Dreezer now? I don’t care. Prepare to be torn to pieces!”

I gulped. “Huh? Torn to pieces? You’re crazy!”

Maniac thumped a fist on the hard armor over his chest. “I’m not crazy!” he bellowed. “I’m a MANIAC!”

He grabbed me around the throat with a gloved hand and lifted me off the floor.

“No. No — please!” I begged. “Put me down. What are you going to
do
?”

“Say good-bye to your friends,” Maniac shouted. He raised me high above his head. “Your story is over. Look up. You’re about to meet CAPTAIN CEILING!”

I uttered a choked gasp as he heaved me with all his might.

I stared straight up as I sailed headfirst to the high ceiling. Then I shut my eyes and waited for the crushing pain.

Whoa. No crash.

No pain.

I opened my eyes when I realized I hadn’t smashed into the ceiling. I felt strong arms around my waist. I turned my head and saw Dr. Maniac holding me.

We were inches from the ceiling, floating high above Bree and Ernie. His cape billowed around us. “Sorry,” he murmured.

He sailed down and set me gently on the floor. My knees folded. I nearly fell. The room spun. My heart was pounding in my chest.

Dr. Maniac landed beside me. “Sorry,” he repeated. “My mistake.”

I swallowed. “Mistake?”

“You’re not my archenemy —
are
you?!”

“No,” I said, starting to feel a little more normal. “I told you — I’m Richard Dreezer. That’s my brother, Ernie. And she’s my friend Bree.”

“Don’t say friend,” Bree said. “We’re in the same class at school. That doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

Dr. Maniac studied us. He had one blue eye and one brown eye. They rolled crazily in his head. He scratched his hair again.

“I’m very confused,” he said. “All these statues and displays and comic book covers … Where
am
I?”

“Whoa. I’m confused, too,” I said. “I mean, you’re not real! You’re a comic book character.”

He gasped. “Huh? I’m not real? Are you kidding me?”

He raised a gloved hand and pinched his cheek. “Ouch. Hey, if I’m not real, how come I just pinched myself and it hurt?”

I shrugged. “Beats me.”

He grabbed the top of my head. “Let’s see if I’m real enough to spin your head like a top.”

“No — please!” I backed out of his grasp.

“Hey, wait. Here’s a good test,” Maniac said. He bent and scooped up something in one glove. He raised it to me. A fat brown cockroach.

He shoved it to my mouth. “Go ahead. Eat this,” he said. “Eat it. Let’s see if it’s real.”

“Yuck. No way.” I tried to back up and stumbled over Ernie.

“Eat it,” Dr. Maniac insisted. He pushed the disgusting bug toward my mouth.

Ernie laughed. “Go ahead. Eat the cockroach, Richard. Eat it! Eat it!”

“Shut up,” I told him. “Just be quiet.”

“Oh, forget the whole thing,” Maniac said. He popped the cockroach into his mouth. Bug juice squirted from his lips. “Mmm. Not bad. Kind of crunchy. Tastes like chicken.”

Ernie laughed at him. “You’re crazy!”

Maniac swallowed the cockroach. “I’m not crazy. I’m a MANIAC!” He tossed back his head and laughed.

Bree leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “This museum project isn’t working out. Maybe Mrs. Callus will change her mind and let me work alone.”

Before I could answer her, I heard a loud SQUISH. Then wet sucking sounds. THWUCK THWUCK THWUCK.

I turned to the front and saw another comic book character. He was squirming out from under the welcome desk. The big dude crawled across the floor on his hands and knees. He was covered from head to foot in thick mucus. And he moved in a wide, sticky puddle of goo.

Slugmaster Slime!

Dr. Maniac stepped in front of us as we watched the evil Slugmaster inch his way to the museum doors. He moved slowly, leaving a wet trail behind him.

“You’re disgusting!” Dr. Maniac shouted at him. “Someone should step on you!”

“Come over here and try it.” Slugmaster’s voice came from deep in his throat. It sounded drippy and hoarse, like he had a really bad cold.

“I’d step on you and put you out of your misery,” Maniac shouted. “But I don’t want to get my boots sticky.”

“Come over here and I’ll slime your face!” Slugmaster croaked.

I watched in shock as the sticky supervillain crawled along his trail of mucus. He slowly disappeared out the door.

“He isn’t real, either,” I told Dr. Maniac. “None of this is happening. Maybe I’m having a nightmare.”

“Well, let me
out
of your dream!” Bree cried. She started to the door — but stopped when another character rose up from behind the front desk.

He was big, broad shouldered. His head was huge and his face was as red as a tomato. His muscles bulged in his costume — purple tights and top, purple cape, purple helmet over his eyes.

I recognized him at once. The Purple Rage.

He leaped out from behind the desk. His face turned a darker red when he saw the three of us.
“Know what BITES my BABOON?”
he boomed. “YOU do! Outta my way!”

He started to the door — then stopped. He stared at Dr. Maniac. His face formed an angry scowl. “Know what GRIPES my GRITS? Seeing YOU here!”

Maniac motioned with both hands for the Rage to back away. “Control yourself, Rage!” he cried.

“Control myself?” Rage screamed.
“Control myself?”
His face was as purple as his costume now. His eyes bulged, and his big chest heaved in and out. “Control myself? When someone says that to me, it puts me in a RAGE!”

He let out a fierce roar — raised both arms and leaped at Dr. Maniac.

“Hey — !” I let out a shout as Dr. Maniac ducked behind me.

And the Rage came sailing into me. His arms wrapped around my waist and tackled me to the floor.

“OWWW!” I hit the floor hard. My head bounced a few times. I actually saw stars.

Rage jumped to his feet and stuck his purple face in mine. “So you’re working with that Maniac? Okay, kid. You asked for it. I’m angry now. You’ve steamed my oven mitts! I’m going to turn
him
into Maniac Meat. But first I’ll destroy YOU!”

He raised a huge, purple-gloved fist. “Go ahead, kid. Count to three.”

I gasped. “Huh? Count to three? Why?”

“It’ll give you something to do while I pulp you like a wood chipper!”

Breathing hard, the Purple Rage waved his fist in my face.

“Uh … could I count to
one hundred
?” I choked out.

He growled like an angry wolf. “Know what CRAMPS my KIPPERS? Jokes. I
hate
jokes when I’m about to shred someone like a dry sponge. It makes me AAAAANNNNNNNGGGGRRRRRY!”

He pulled his huge fist back and —

And —

End of the Richard Dreezer story?

No. To my shock, Bree reached up and grabbed the big purple dude’s arm. She wrapped her hands around his bicep and held his arm back.

“Listen to me, Purple Whoever-You-Are. Richard isn’t working with that maniac!” she cried. “We don’t know what’s going on here. We’re not comic book characters. We’re just
kids
.”

“I HATE kids!” the Rage muttered. He clamped his jaw shut and gritted his teeth.

“We’re just kids who came here to do a museum project,” Bree explained, holding on to his arm with all her might. “And now we want to leave.”

Rage squinted at her. “Leave? Know what BOTHERS my BOBBLEHEAD? People who want to leave!”

Dr. Maniac stepped up to the Purple Rage. “Here’s a riddle for you,” he said.

Rage broke free of Bree’s grasp and turned furiously on Maniac. “A riddle? Are you
crazy
?”

“I’m not crazy. I’m a MANIAC!”

Rage tossed back his purple cape. He brought his face up close to Maniac’s. “Do you really think a riddle will keep me from cracking you like an overripe walnut?”

Maniac giggled. “What’s red, white, and blue, and likes to pound supervillains like you to dust?”

Rage rubbed his chin. “Hmmm. That’s a good one,” he said. “I give up. What’s red, white, and blue, and likes to pound supervillains like me into dust?”

Maniac giggled again. “It’s the Star-Spangled BANGER!” he said. “And guess what? He’s standing right behind you!”

“Huh?” The Purple Rage spun around.

Maniac wasn’t joking. A powerful looking superhero, wearing the stars and stripes and a very ugly scowl under his red, white, and blue mask, rose up in front of Rage.

Without a word, the two of them began to fight. Grunting and growling, they threw each other to the floor.
WHOMP. WHOMP. WHOMMMP.
They punched each other furiously with gloved fists. And wrestled, rolling over and over.

I breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the door, still punching and clawing at each other. I waited for them to vanish outside.

But halfway out the door, the Purple Rage turned back and pumped a fist at me. “I’ll be back for you, punk!” he shouted angrily. “And I’ll flatten you like yesterday’s wet laundry!”

Punk? Me?

Groaning and shouting, they began to wrestle again. And rolled right out of the museum.

I stood staring at the doors for a long time, my whole body trembling. I wanted to make sure they were really gone.

Then I turned to Dr. Maniac. “Wh-what’s going on?” I stammered. “Tell me. What’s happening here?”

Maniac kept his gaze on the museum doors. “I think I know,” he said. When he finally turned to Bree, Ernie, and me, his face was solemn. “Sorry to tell you this. But I think it’s a pretty big deal. I think it’s the end of the world.”