Goosebumps: The Blob That Ate Everyone by R. L. Stine Page A

power.”
    He staggered toward me like some kind of zombie. “Your typewriter controls
me, Zackie. Your typewriter has the power! I am your slave!”
    “Adam—you’re not funny!” I cried.
    The girls giggled. They closed their eyes, stuck out their arms, and started
marching toward me too.
    “We’re in your power,” Emmy chanted.
    “You’re controlling our every move,” Annie said.
    “This isn’t funny!” I shouted furiously. “Get lost, you guys! You—”
    I turned and saw Mrs. Jack bouncing toward us, her face as red as her
lipstick. “What are you doing back here?” she bellowed. “This isn’t a
clubhouse!”
    Adam and the girls instantly lowered their sleepwalker arms. Annie and Emmy
backed up against the meat counter.
    “Are you buying anything?” Mrs. Jack demanded, huffing and puffing from her
long journey from the cash register. “If you’re not buying anything, get out. Go
to the playground.”
    “We’re going,” Adam murmured. He couldn’t get past Mrs. Jack. She filled the
aisle. So he scooted down the next aisle.
    Annie and Emmy hurried after him.
    Mrs. Jack glared at me.
    “I—I’m almost finished,” I stammered. I picked up the basket. I searched
for my list, but couldn’t find it.
    No problem. I remembered what was on it.
    I found the other items and dropped them into the basket. Mrs. Jack stayed
with me the whole while.
    Then she walked me to the front of the store.
    I paid and hurried out. I was so angry at Adam and the girls, I forgot all
about the candy bars.
    They are always making fun of me, I griped to myself.
    Always playing mean tricks. Always trying to make me look like a jerk.
    Always. Always.
    And I’m sick of it. I’m sick to death of it!
    “Sick sick sick!” I chanted the word all the way home. I hopped off my bike
and let it crash to the driveway. Then I ran inside and tossed the grocery bag
onto the kitchen counter.
    “Sick sick sick.”
    I’m going to totally lose it if I don’t cool down, I decided.
    I ran up to my room and shoved a fresh sheet of paper into the old
typewriter.
    Then I plopped into the desk chair and furiously started typing. A third Blob
Monster story. The scariest one of all.
    I typed as fast as I could. I didn’t think about it. I let my anger do the
thinking.
    I didn’t write it out first. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t know what was going
to happen next.
    I leaned over the old typewriter and typed.
    In the story, the ugly pink Blob Monster attacks the whole town. People are
screaming. Running in every direction. Running for their lives.
    Two police officers step forward to fight the Blob Monster off. It opens its
huge mouth—and swallows them whole!
    Shrieks of terror fill the town. The enormous Blob Monster is eating everyone
alive!
    “Yes!” I cried out loud. “Yes!”
    I was paying everyone back. Paying the whole town back.
    “Yes!”
    It was the most exciting, most terrifying story I ever wrote. I wrote page
after page.
    “Zackie—you forgot something!” a voice called.
    I started to type those words into the story. Then I recognized Mom’s voice.
    Breathing hard, I spun away from the typewriter. I found Mom leaning in the
doorway, shaking her head fretfully.
    “You have to go back to the store,” she said. “You forgot the loaf of Italian
bread. We need bread for dinner tonight.”
    “Oh. Sorry,” I replied.
    I glanced back at my story and sighed. It was going so well. I was having
such a good time.
    I’ll get right back to it after I go to the store, I decided.
    I took more money from Mom. Then I picked up my bike from the driveway.
    I thought about my Blob Monster story as I pedaled to town. It’s the best
story I ever wrote, I decided.
    I can’t wait to read it to Alex.
    I heard the thud of footsteps on the sidewalk. A man in a business suit came running by. A dark blur. He ran so fast, I
couldn’t see his face.
    What’s his problem? I wondered. He’s too dressed up to be