32 - The Barking Ghost by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) Page B

Prepared to attack.
    “Whoa!” Fergie cried. “Cooper, wait! You can’t just barge over there and
attack them!”
    Fergie was right. That wouldn’t solve anything.
    I watched my dad send the Frisbee flying across the yard.
    I had a strong urge to jump up and go for that Frisbee.
    But I stopped myself. This was no time for playing.
    Then I had an idea. The greatest idea. The idea of a lifetime.
    “Come on!” I urged Fergie. I began loping toward the side of my house.
    “Cooper, where are you going?” she asked.
    I didn’t answer. I stopped outside the wall to Mickey’s room. “This will just
take a second,” I told Fergie.
    She read my mind. She knew what I planned to do.
    Side by side, we leaped through the wall of the house.
    And burst into Mickey’s room.
    He was standing in his underwear. Leaning over his dresser, sorting out his
T-shirts. He cried out and spun around as Fergie and I started to growl.
    My brother uttered a short, terrified whimper. He started backing up, his
eyes wide with fright.
    Fergie and I began barking and jumping up on our hind legs.
    “How—how did you—?” Mickey stammered.
    Those were the only words he could choke out.
    Then he let out another whimper, stumbled past us, and bolted out through the
bedroom door. “Mommy! Daddy! Help!” I heard him scream. “Mommy! Daddy!”
    Fergie and I didn’t want to miss seeing him run through the yard in his underwear. We trotted through the wall and watched
until he disappeared around the garage.
    “Did you see his face?” I yelped happily. “Was that awesome?!”
    “Man, that was excellent!” Fergie cheered.
    “Hey, you two!” a stern voice called.
    I turned around.
    Dad!
    “How did you dogs get in this yard?” my father demanded sharply. “Come on.
Out! Out!”
    “But, wait! Dad! It’s me, Cooper!” I tried to yell. But all that came out was Woof! Woof! Woof!
    “Out! Out!” Dad repeated angrily.
    “Dad! Wait! It’s really me! Listen! You’ve got to listen!”
    “Woof! Woof! Woof, woof, woof! Woof! Woof, woof, woof, woof!”
    My father armed himself with a broom and waved it wildly at Fergie and me.
�Out!� he cried, shaking the broom at us.
    “What’s going on?” Mom called from the doorway.
    “Mom! It’s me. Cooper!” I barked furiously.
    “Oh, Sam. Please get rid of those animals! You know I’m allergic to dogs!”
    “But, Mom!” I cried. “Can’t you tell it’s me?”
    Woof, woof! Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof!
    “Please, Sam! Call the pound! These dogs look dangerous. They might have to
be put to sleep! Call the pound. They’ll know what to do.”
    I watched in horror as my dad picked up the phone and dialed.

 
 
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    Fergie and I bolted into the woods as fast as we could. Even as a dog, Fergie
ran faster than I did.
    We hid among the trees and watched my parents and the fake Cooper and Fergie
toss the Frisbee around in the backyard.
    The guys from the pound never showed up. But things still looked pretty bad.
My parents thought we were stray dogs. And I couldn’t tell them who I was.
    All I could do was bark.
    Hey. Wait a minute. Maybe I could do more than bark.
    “Fergie, I have another idea!” I said, wagging my tail. “Follow me!”
    Fergie and I sneaked around the side of the house and stepped through the
wall into the living room. I sniffed around, searching for a pen and some paper.
    “I’ll write them a note,” I explained to Fergie. “Mom will definitely
recognize my handwriting.”
    I found a pen lying on the coffee table, next to some notepaper.
    I tried to lift the pen.
    It slipped out from under my paw. I couldn’t wrap my paw around it.
    Fergie tried to help me. She nosed the pen in my direction, but I still
couldn’t pick it up.
    Impossible. Dogs can’t hold pens.
    I felt so disappointed. I pushed the pen away, then ripped the paper to
shreds. That’s when my dad burst in.
    “Hey! I thought I told you two dogs to beat it!” my father yelled.
    My