Free House of a Thousand Screams by R.L. Stine Page B

disaster. Please, please, I begged silently. I grabbed the canister and ripped the lid off.
    I practically sobbed with relief when I saw the fluffy white powder inside.
    Then I dumped the whole canister right on the monster as it squeezed my knees.
    Direct hit! Flour burst around the thing. I could see it again! The flour clung to its greasy fur. It looked like a deranged pom-pom. With fangs. And claws.
    The monster coughed and wiped at its eyes. I grabbed Mom’s marble rolling pin from the counter. With all my strength I whacked the monster.
    I was so frantic that my aim wasn’t perfect. The blow landed on the thing’s shoulder instead of its head. But it let go of my legs with a howl.
    I kicked it away from me. Ow! I’d used my bad leg by accident. Pain seared through my knee.
    The creature lay in the middle of the floor, stunned.I limped forward to finish it off. I raised the roller high.
    But I didn’t have the strength to hit the monster again. My muscles gave way. I dropped the rolling pin and crumpled to the floor.
    The monster groaned. Stirred.
    I stared at it. Helpless. I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t move. My strength was gone.
    Pinpricks of red light shone through the matted fur of the monster’s face. Eyes. They glinted evilly at me.
    The monster was waking up!

20

    T he monster climbed to its feet and shook itself. Clouds of flour burst from it. But I could still see it just fine.
    It wasn’t a pretty sight.
    The monster quivered with rage.
    And then it started to change!
    Its face grew leaner and sharper. Its eyes bulged. Sharp thorns burst from its hairy arms. It made a fist. When it opened its hand again, the claws were longer, sharper than before.
    â€œOh, no,” I whispered. It was really over now. I was a goner for sure.
    I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.
    Then I heard a burst of noise. “Peeps! Peeps! PEEEEPS!”
    The little people! The monster hadn’t scarfed them all down. And they were back!
    I opened my eyes again. Something was hovering in the air near my head. A wooden box.
    The puppet box! The little people must have brought it from the attic!
    The monster spotted the box too. The sight seemed to put it in an even worse mood than before. It roared and bounded toward me.
    Then a voice from the kitchen doorway made it stop in mid-bound.
    â€œHey, monster!”
    Freddy! I couldn’t believe it. My little brother stood in the doorway. He was wearing his Dallas Cowboys football helmet and pads. He held his baseball bat ready to swing.
    He looked completely ridiculous. And I was never so glad to see him in my life!
    The monster screeched with rage and leapt at Freddy.
    â€œBatter up!” Freddy yelled. He swung the wooden bat.
    Crrrrrrck! The bat whacked the monster square in the chest.
    Wood splintered. And the bat snapped in half!
    Oh, no!
    The monster tumbled backward, end over end. Toward me.
    I snatched up the marble rolling pin from the floor. This time I didn’t plan to miss.
    Wham! I brought the rolling pin down on the thing’s head with everything I had.
    The monster grunted and fell. Out cold.
    â€œPeeps!” the little people sang. The puppet box fell to the floor beside me.
    I scooped up the greasy, stinking, floury monster, shoved it inside, and slammed the lid.
    Then I collapsed on the floor.
    Freddy rushed over to me. “Are you all right?” he cried. “I thought that thing was going to kill you!”
    â€œI’m fine,” I wheezed. “Thanks to the little people—and you!” Then I frowned. “Hey, I thought I told you to run.”
    He grinned. He looked goofy with the helmet on. “Would the Dallas Cowboys run?”
    I laughed. My Brainiac brother. He was all right!
    A tinkling sound filled the air. Freddy and I turned.
    Thousands of tiny bits from the broken glasses rose into the air. The wire frames floated beside them. Then, in a flash of light, the pieces all fused