Free Ghouls Gone Wild by R.L. Stine

needed fences. They made us as rich as the filling in a pecan pie!”
    He and Dad shared another big laugh.
    “Well, I loved reading about Texas,” Colin continued. “I can't wait to see it in person.”
    Whoa. My brother was really going for the gold star tonight!
    “I'll take you out to my ranch,” Mr. Grimmus told Colin. “I've got a hundred and thirty-three different kinds of cactus there. I think you'll find that very interesting.”
    “You got that right,” Colin replied.
    “Is it cactus or cacti?” I chimed in.
    Mr. Grimmus frowned at me. “You'll know if you
sit
on one, boy!” he exclaimed.
    Everyone laughed at that one. I tried to fake some laughter too. Just to show I was a good sport.
    I kept glancing at Mom and then at Dad. They didn't really
like
this big, loudmouthed balloon—
did
they?
    At least the dinner was going smoothly. No ghouls. No spilled sour milk or pies in the face.
    Maybe I'd get out of it alive.
    Mr. Grimmus seemed to be enjoying himself a lot. And I could see that Dad was happy. He was passing the test.
    Mom offered Mr. Grimmus the platter of lamb chops. Then she served more mashed potatoes and string beans.
    Mr. Grimmus was telling us about his family. He had seven children by his first wife, and seven children by his second wife.
    “I guess seven is my lucky number!” he exclaimed.
    “Or maybe fourteen,” I said.
    He squinted at me. “No, hoss. Seven. Seven has always been my lucky number. Not fourteen. I know you're a math freak, but don't try to change my lucky number.”
    “Sorry,” I muttered.
    Mr. Grimmus picked up a lamb chop and raised it high. “This is lamb chop number seven,” he said. “See? My lucky night.” He chomped into the chop.
    I finished my glass of apple juice. I glanced toward the kitchen.
    And to my surprise, I saw the freezer door at the top of the fridge swing open.
    At first, I thought I was imagining things. But no. The freezer had opened up.
    A few seconds later, I saw Mr. Grimmus set down his lamb chop and sniff the air.
    He made a face. He sniffed the air again. He made another face.
    “You smell something?” he asked.

29
    M OM AND D AD SNIFFED . They both made disgusted faces.
    Colin sniffed. He pinched his fingers over his nose and laughed. “Max isn't toilet trained,” he said.
    “Shut up!” I cried.
    Colin waved a big fist at me. “Who's gonna make me?”
    “Boys—please!” Mom shouted. “We don't want to give Mr. Grimmus the wrong idea about you two.”
    Dad glared angrily at me. “I'm warning you. No trouble,” he said through gritted teeth.
    Mr. Grimmus wasn't paying any attention to us. He had covered his nose with a checkered handkerchief. “Something rotten here,” he muttered. His eyes began to water.
    In the kitchen, I saw a package of spoiled, green meat fall out of the open freezer. It landedwith a soft
plop
, and the shrink-wrap package broke open.
    “Uh, Mom …,” I started, pointing to the freezer.
    “Shhh. Enough out of you, Max,” Mom said. “Please be quiet and let us all enjoy our dinner.”
    Enjoy our dinner? How
could
we, with that disgusting, rank odor floating over the table?
    “Mom, please—”
    Why wouldn't she let me explain what was happening?
    I turned back to the kitchen.
    Another package of spoiled meat rolled out of the freezer. And then another.
    Plop. Plop.
    They landed on top of each other.
    The sour, stinging odor floated into the dining room, stronger now. My eyes began to water too.
    I held my hand over my mouth. I didn't want to puke.
    “How about those Yankees?” Dad said to Mr. Grimmus. “Do you believe they bought another All-Star pitcher?”
    Dad was trying to keep things going. But it wasn't going to work. The putrid smell was making us all choke.
    “Mom—” I tried again.
    But she hushed me with both hands.
    In the kitchen, I saw the gross, smelly meat burst from its packaging and make a big, disgusting pile on the kitchen floor.
    “Mom—?”
    I stared in shock as