Stampede of the Supermarket Slugs (4 page)

“Incredible!” Keats said. “That’s an old-fashioned pneumatic tube!”

Henry frowned. “Old new-what?”

“Pneumatic tubes were a way to send messages fast,” Keats explained. “Air pushes letters from one place to another. This tube says it’s connected to Hallway House.”

“That’s Mr. Cigam’s place!” Henry said. “See that? Something’s in the tube.”

He pulled out a rolled-up sheet of paper tied with a string. He slid the string off and opened it. It was a note in Mr. Cigam’s handwriting. Keats leaned closer so they could read it at the same time.

“Yes!” Keats tapped the note. “This is what we need! We’ll just grab all these ingredients and mix them up—”

“—and
blam!
” Henry said with a grin. “The potion will put the slugs to sleep. They’ll be easy to catch. Let’s go!”

Knock! Knock!

The sound came from outside the office. Without thinking, Keats asked, “Who’s there?”

Henry put a finger to his lips and said, “Shhh.” He tiptoed over to the door and peeked down through the small window. “Oh man,” he whispered.

Henry waved Keats over so he could see, too. It was Squirt! He knocked his eyestalks against the door again. When he didn’t get a response, he sunk his sharp teeth into the lower half of the door. He started tearing at the wood.

“He’s going to eat his way inside!” Keats yelled. He didn’t bother whispering anymore.

“And he’s not alone,” Henry said, pointing to the checkout lanes. “Look!”

A few small bags of pretzels and chips hadn’t been touched. But every snack pack of cheese puffs on the tipped-over racks had been gobbled up. The herd of slugs was oozing toward the office.

“Hey! There must be twenty slugs now,” Keats said, taking a quick count. “How can there be seven more of them?”

Henry didn’t have a chance to answer. The office’s front wall shook as the slugs swarmed up it, searching for a way in.

Keats started to panic. “This is a supermarket
filled
with food! What do they want in here?”

Henry looked at Keats. “You,” he said.

“Me?” Keats’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

Henry pointed at Keats’s torn jacket. The front was smeared with cheese-puff powder. “I’m guessing cheese puffs are their favorite food. It probably got on you when that slug bit your sleeve.”

“Ugh!” Keats cried. He ripped off his jacket and threw it on the ground.

“I’ve got an idea,” Henry said. He picked up the jacket and hurried to the lost-and-found box. Then he rubbed the toy train with cheese-puff powder from Keats’s jacket.

“What are you doing?” Keats said.

“See if you can follow my train of thought,” Henry said with a wink. “I’m going to send the slugs to the snack-food aisle. It’s only one aisle away. Bags and bags of cheese puffs are just waiting for them!”

Henry knelt next to the hole made by the phone. He aimed the train toward the snack aisle and pushed it through. The toy clattered forward a few feet, then crashed to its side in front of the snack aisle. Before the cousins could see anything else—

An eyestalk jammed through the hole. The slug’s black eyeball glared at the boys.

Keats jerked back. “The slugs didn’t notice the train! They’re still breaking in!”

Henry held up a hand. “Wait. Just wait,” he said.

They heard a long, wet sniffing sound. And then the eyestalk popped back through the hole. Henry and Keats got down to look. Smelling the air, a curious slug squirmed over to the train and bit down. As it chewed the toy, the slug glanced down the snack aisle … and its eyes went wide.

“Yes!” Keats said. He pumped his fist. “It sees the cheese puffs!”

With a “wheee!” of excitement, the slug dove into the aisle and out of sight. At the sound of tearing bags, the other slugs dropped from the office wall with a series of plops and hurried over to the snack aisle. The cousins were alone again.

“There are tons of cheese puffs in that aisle,” Henry said. “That should keep the slugs busy for now.”

“For now,” Keats repeated. But he knew it wouldn’t take the slugs long to eat all the cheese puffs. Then they would start looking for something else to munch on.

Like maybe two cousins named Keats and Henry.

5
MIXED-UP MAGIC

AVOIDING THE SLIME
streaks on the floor and office door, the cousins crept out into the store. They couldn’t see the slugs in the snack aisle. But they could hear them ripping through wrappers and chomping the snacks.

Keats shuddered. “I
really
can’t wait to get out of here,” he said.

He matched the potion recipe to the map on the coupon book. The ingredients were
scattered all over the store. They didn’t have time to get everything before the cheese puffs ran out.

Henry tapped his nose, thinking. “We’ll have to split up again,” he said.

“Oh man …,” Keats groaned.

“It’s the best way,” Henry said. “The sooner we send the slugs to Snoozeville, the quicker we can leave.”

“It’s not that,” Keats said. He turned Henry around to face the pet-food aisle.

Down near the water bowls, six dogs were chasing squeaky cat toys in circles. At least they
looked
like dogs. Their bodies were made of bone-shaped treats. And when they opened their mouths to bark or snap at the toys, kibble fell out.

“Please tell me I’m imagining that,” Keats said to Henry.

“Wish I could, cuz,” Henry responded.

A clanging came from the next aisle over. Henry and Keats shared a worried look. Together they took a few steps to peek into the cleaning aisle.

A band of ten mops battled a crew of a dozen brooms. Their handles waved through the air like swords as they crashed against each other.
Whack! Whack!
From the shelves, an audience of metal dustpans clapped and clanged. Henry and Keats jumped as a sponge fired from a bucket like a cannonball.

Weird noises—grunts, bells, ripping, and crashing—came from around the store.

“What’s going on?” Henry asked just as a breeze blew past them. “And, phew! What’s that stink?”

Keats took a whiff. The breeze smelled like mothballs. It reminded him of the air that
came out of the tube in the office. Keats nodded slowly as the pieces fell into place. “Remember how Mr. Cigam’s house was full of crazy, mixed-up magic?” he asked.

Henry chuckled. “Uh, kind of hard to forget, Keats.”

“When we opened the panel, I bet we let in air from Hallway House,” Keats said. “Now that air is blowing all around the store. It’s making things go berserk!”

“Oh man,” Henry said. “Giant slugs
and
weird magic air? Let’s get moving before something even creepier shows up.”

He handed Keats a plastic shopping bag from a checkout lane and took one for himself. Before they split up, Henry said, “You grab the top two things on the list. I’ll get the bottom two. And I’ll meet you at the seafood counter for the octopus legs.”

The cousins headed off in different directions. Keats moved fast through the store but kept an eye out for danger. A slug and its sharp teeth might be just around the corner.

The barbecue sauce sat on a shelf with the mustard and ketchup at the end of an aisle. He tossed a bottle in his bag and rushed on. A rolling herd of toilet paper nearly tripped him, but he soon made it to the fruits and vegetables. During a quick look around, Keats spotted the almost-empty table of clementines.

“There’s only one clementine left, Henry!” Keats yelled, putting the fruit in his bag. “We’ll need more than that for the potion. There’s a lot of slugs!”

“I’ve got my own problems here in dairy!” Henry shouted from the back of the store. “Should milk cartons be mooing?”

Keats didn’t have time to answer. An
orange ball whizzed toward his head. He ducked and it just missed him. When he looked up, he gasped. The air swirled with bright colors.

“Whoa,” Keats said. “They’re fruit flies.”

Above him, pineapples spun like helicopters. Green melons floated like balloons. Bananas wobbled like boomerangs.

And there! A flock of twenty clementines soared to the ceiling. Then they dipped at the same time in a long, gliding arc. Keats crouched when they zipped past his head and flew back up. As he watched, they repeated this pattern over and over.

He needed to catch a couple of them. But how?

Keats scrambled onto the empty table. Keeping his head tucked down, he opened the shopping bag with both hands. He waved it over his head like a net and waited.
Fft
. The bag jerked in his hands once.
Fft
. And again.

Yes! He had captured two more clementines! Once in his bag, they stopped trying to fly and turned back into normal fruit.

Keats jumped to the floor. “Hey, Henry!” he shouted. “I’ve got the fruit and the barbecue sauce!”

“And I found the milk and molasses!” Henry yelled. “Meet me at seafood!”

The seafood counter was in the back of the store. The ice-packed case was piled high with raw fish fillets and shellfish. Over the counter, an electronic sign said in neon green letters
PLEASE TAKE A NUMBER—NOW SERVING CUSTOMER 56!

Henry and Keats greeted each other with a high five. They went around to the back of the glass case.

“I took a peek at the slugs after getting the molasses,” Henry said. He set down his shopping bag and hunted for octopus legs among the heaps of seafood. “Don’t panic, but the cheese puffs are almost gone.”

Keats felt his stomach flip-flop. “They might come after us next!” he sputtered.

Henry opened the seafood case. “Luckily,
we only have two things left on the slug sleep potion list. Nacho cheese dip … and these beautiful babies!” He reached into the case and scooped up three slithery octopus legs. Grinning, he pulled his hand back out. “Now we’ll just—”

He didn’t finish. Two dozen lobster claws shot out of the seafood case.
Ka-fling! Ka-fling! Ka-fling!
They latched all along Henry’s shirt and pants and shoved him back against the concrete wall.

“Keats,” he wheezed, the wind knocked out of him. The claws slid him ten feet straight up the wall.

Keats dropped his shopping bag and jumped to grab Henry’s foot. He couldn’t reach it.

“Help!” Henry shouted, getting his breath back. He struggled, but the claws had him
pinned. “These little guys are really strong—ouch!”

The claws began pulling Henry’s arms and legs in different directions. Above his head, the number 56 on the electronic sign turned red. It blinked a warning. Keats stared at it for a second.

“Henry, I know what’s wrong!” Keats called out. “You didn’t take a number. It wasn’t your turn and you took the octopus legs. Drop the legs!”