30 - It Came from Beneath the Sink (8 page)

Squishing the evil creature into the ground.

“Stop it! Stop!” Daniel screamed, riding up onto the grass. “You can’t kill the Grool. You’re only giving it what it wants.”

I glared at my brother. I struggled to catch my breath.

“Look at it!” Daniel shouted, pointing. “The Grool is getting even more
excited. You’re helping it, not hurting it!”

I lowered my eyes to the Grool. It pulsed faster than before. An evil light
shone from its ugly little eyes. Its blood-red body gleamed in the afternoon
sun.

Heh, heh, heh.

The cruel snicker cut through the air like fingernails on a blackboard.

I grabbed my bike and wheeled it to our driveway. I let it fall on to the
asphalt.

Then I ran back to the Grool, gripped it tightly in one hand, and carried it
into the house.

Daniel followed close behind me. “Now what are you going to do?” he asked.

“You’ll see,” I said. I made my way into the kitchen.

My heart pounded. I could feel the blood racing at my temples.

I jammed the Grool into the kitchen sink drain. Then I grabbed a wooden
spatula and stabbed at the Grool, shoving it deep into the pipe.

Daniel stood beside me, watching in silence.

I turned the hot water on full force. I flicked a switch next to the sink and
smiled at my brother.

The garbage disposal gurgled on.

The gurgle became a whine.

The whine became a roar as the grinding teeth went to work.

“Yes!” I cried happily. “Yes!”

A few seconds later, the disposal had ground up the Grool.

“That’s the end of that,” I told Daniel, sighing happily. I listened to the
pipes run clean. “Down the drain! Yaaay!”

Carlo came running into the kitchen. “What’s happening?” he cried
breathlessly. “Where’s the Grool?”

I turned to Carlo, grinning. “It’s gone. The Grool is gone!” I announced
gleefully.

Then I heard my brother gasp.

I saw his mouth drop open as he stared down at the sink. “No, it’s not.” His
voice was so low, I could barely hear him. “No, it’s not gone,” he whispered.

I lowered my eyes to the sink.

And realized at once what had horrified Daniel.

The hot water had started to back up.

It splashed and spurted up from the drain. As if something were pushing it
with great force.

The hot water churned quickly—rolling up from the pipe below.

“I don’t
believe
it!” Carlo cried.

The Grool popped up, bobbing in the churning hot water.

There it was. Still in one piece. It had turned bright purple, an angry
purple. As I stared down at it in horror, it thumped wildly in the sink.

“No!” I screamed. “It’s impossible! You can’t be back!! You
can’t!”

I grabbed the sopping wet Grool and squeezed it as hard as I could.

A river of water ran out of the slimy thing and into the sink.

The harder I gripped, the warmer the Grool felt.

Warmer and warmer and…

“Ow!” I dropped it as it became scorching hot. Quickly, I ran my hands under
soothing cold water.

The Grool perched on the side of the sink. It throbbed with joy, leered up at
me with its creepy eyes, and let out an evil cackle.

“Daniel, Carlo,” I moaned. “There has to be a way to kill this thing! There
has to! Think, guys!”

But the two of them stared in silence at the throbbing Grool.

“Come on, Daniel—think!” I waved my hand in front of Daniel’s face. “Help
me! I’m all out of ideas.”

Suddenly, his eyes came back into focus. “I’ve got an idea,” he said quietly.

He rushed out of the kitchen. “I’ll be right back,” he shouted, leaving Carlo
and me alone with the nasty creature.

“I hate you!” I shouted at it. But my anger seemed to make it pulse faster.

A short while later, Daniel hurried back into the room. “Maybe this will
help,” he announced. He set the
Encyclopedia of the Weird
on the kitchen
table.

“I borrowed it from the library,” he explained. “I thought we might need it.”

He started to search for “Grool” in the index.

“Oh, Daniel,” I sighed wearily. “We’ve already read everything in that book
about Grools. It can’t help us.”

“But maybe you missed something important,” Carlo insisted.

Daniel flipped through the pages of the encyclopedia. “Here’s the part about
killing the Grool,” he said. “Let’s see what it says.”

He started reading:
“The Grool cannot be killed—by force or by
any violent means.”

“That’s it?” I demanded. “There’s nothing else?”

Daniel slammed the book shut. “Nothing else,” he replied sadly. “Kat, it
really can’t be killed. It’s the most evil creature in the world and it can’t be
killed. Not by force. Not by violence. Not by anything.”

“Not by force,” I repeated, thinking hard. “Not by violence.”

I stared at the throbbing, purple creature.

“Hmmmm.” I couldn’t help but smile.

“Kat? What’s your problem?” Daniel demanded. “Are you totally losing it? Why
are you smiling?”

“Because the Grool can be killed,” I announced. “And I’ve just figured out
how to do it.”

“Huh?” Carlo cried. “You’ve really figured it out?”

“What are you going to do?” Daniel demanded. “You can’t kill it. It always
conies back to life.”

I shook my head. “We’ll see,” I replied.

I wanted to think my plan through before I explained it to them.

Actually, it turned out to be pretty simple.

Much as I hated to, I picked up the throbbing Grool from the sink and held it
gently in my hands.

I patted the disgusting creature tenderly on its wrinkled head. Then I sang
to it sweetly:

“Lullaby and good night, little Grool, I love you. Please sleep tight, little
Grool, la la la, la la la.”

“Kat, I’m worried about you,” Daniel groaned. “Stop it, okay? You’re a little
messed up. You need to lie down.”

But I just kept singing as sweetly as I could.

“What is she doing?” Daniel asked Carlo. “Do you get it?”

Carlo shook his head.

I didn’t pay any attention to them.

I had to concentrate.

I forced myself to stroke the Grool lovingly. I hugged the slimy thing and
cuddled it in my arms—as I would a soft puppy.

I cooed in its ear:

“Little Grool, cute Grool, you are so nice, so sweet, so wonderful. I love
you, Grool.”

“Kat, please stop,” Daniel begged. “You’re upsetting me. I’m really worried
about you, Kat.”

“How can you pet the thing?” Carlo demanded. “It’s so gross!”

“Sweet, Grool,” I whispered. “So sweet.” I cuddled it tenderly and stroked
its wrinkled skin.

If this doesn’t work, I told myself, nothing will.

“I’m going to get Mom and Dad,” Daniel threatened. He started backing toward
the kitchen door.

“Ssshhh.” I raised a finger to my lips. Then I pointed down at the Grool
cradled in my arms. “Look, guys.”

The Grool’s violent throbbing had slowed to a gentle pulse.

I sang some more, softly, gently, sweetly.

And we all watched in amazement as the Grool’s color faded. From red to pink,
and—finally—back to its ordinary dull brown color.

“Wow!” Daniel whistled.

“Keep watching,” I said, hugging the Grool closely. I sang another lullaby.

The Grool let out a low sigh. I could see it shrinking, see it drying up in
my arms.

Its eyes closed. The dry, brown skin covered them up.

“It—it’s getting weaker, Kat,” Daniel whispered excitedly.

“Keep watching,” I told him. Then I cooed to the Grool, “There, there little Grool. What a sweet Grool.” I rocked it like
a baby.

The Grool’s breathing slowed—slowed—then stopped.

The Grool slumped lifelessly in my hand. Not a sound. Not a throb. Not a
twitch.

“Now, check this out!” I announced to Daniel and Carlo.

I raised the wrinkled sponge to my face—and planted a big fat kiss on it.

The two boys made disgusted faces.

But I knew what I was doing.

I lowered the Grool from my face and studied it carefully.

“Aaaaaaaah.”
The sponge let out a long, slow sigh—and shrank into a
tiny ball.

I took a deep breath and blew.

The tiny ball flew apart. Dry, brown puffs floated into the air.

I watched the feathery puffs float to the floor. Then I wiped my hands off on
a towel. “All done.”

“It—it’s gone!” Carlo declared.

“But how?” Daniel demanded.

“Well, you helped give me the idea,” I told him.

“I did?”

“Yes,” I replied. “When you read that part of the encyclopedia that said the
Grool can’t be killed by force or violence.”

I smiled. “I kept going over that in my mind. And finally, it hit me.”

“What hit you?” Carlo asked.

“I knew the Grool couldn’t be killed by force or violence,” I explained. “But
what about the opposite? I guessed that no one had ever tried being nice to it
before.”

Both boys stared at me in rapt silence. “That gave me the idea that being
kind was the secret to destroying the Grool,” I continued. “And it worked. The
Grool was so evil that it couldn’t stand being loved.”

“Wow!” Carlo breathed.

“Excellent!” Daniel exclaimed. “I’m glad I came up with it.”

“Yeah, it’s great to have a genius in the family,” I said sarcastically.

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the twelve dollars my grandma
had sent for my birthday. “What do you say we celebrate with ice-cream?” I
suggested with a grin.

“Excellent!” the two boys cried happily.

“Maybe our luck will change now,” I told Daniel. “I bet we become the
luckiest family on the block.”

Then I heard it. That familiar, terrifying, breathing sound again.

I swung around and faced the door.

“What’s that?” I cried, my heart sinking. “Do you hear it, too?”

Yes. We all heard it.

My throat felt dry. Cold chills ran down my back. The breathing grew louder.
Closer. “I didn’t kill it,” I moaned. “It’s back. It’s back!”

Daniel grabbed my hand. I could see the fear on his face.

Carlo took a step back from the door. He backed up till he bumped against the
kitchen counter.

We huddled together in the kitchen, afraid to move. Afraid to go look.

“We have no choice,” I choked out finally. “If it’s back, we have to let it
in.”

I took a deep breath. My legs didn’t want to carry me. They felt as if they
were made of lead.

But I forced myself to the back door.

My entire body trembled as I reached for the doorknob. And yanked the door
open.

“Oh!” I let out a startled cry.

Killer gazed up at me, breathing noisily, his stub of a tail wagging
furiously.

“Killer!” I yelled joyfully. “You’re back!” I bent down to hug him. But the
dog ran past me, into the kitchen.

Daniel let out a happy cry and pulled the wiggling dog into his arms. Killer covered Daniel’s face with wet licks.

“Our luck
has
changed!” I declared.

I looked outside.

Wow! Healthy green grass covered the ground. The flowers lifted their
drooping heads and burst back into dazzling color as I watched.

All of the Grool’s evil seemed to be disappearing.

I grabbed Killer and hugged him hard. “Killer, Killer,” I crooned. “We got
rid of the Grool.”

“Come on,” Daniel cried. “Ice-cream time!”

I set Killer back on the floor and kissed him on the head. “We’ll be back
soon, boy,” I said.

“To the ice-cream parlor!” Daniel shouted as he dashed outside. “Race you!”
he cried as he ran down the street. “The winner gets a triple-decker sundae!”

Carlo and I took off after Daniel. I pumped my legs hard and pulled out in
front.

But at the last minute, Daniel pushed past me and tagged the door of the
restaurant. “I won!” Daniel cried happily.

We hurried into the ice-cream parlor. “Table for three,” Daniel said with a
grin. The waitress seated us, handed out menus, and wiped the table with a…
sponge!

“Yuck! Get that thing out of here!” Daniel shrieked.

The waitress didn’t understand. But we all laughed—for the first time in
weeks.

“Don’t mind my brother,” I said. “He’s got a thing about sponges.” He kicked
me under the table, and I pinched him back hard.

The waitress rolled her eyes. Then she took our orders.

As we shoveled down our sundaes, I realized how hungry I was—and how happy
I was.

The Grool was gone—forever.

We were so full that we practically rolled back home.

“Killer. Here, boy!” I pushed the back door open and stepped into the
kitchen.

“Hey—Killer? Come here! Aren’t you glad to see us?”

Killer didn’t turn around.

He stood at the sink, growling and wagging his tail. He had his nose pressed
up against the cabinet door, trying to push it open.

“All right, Killer. We had our ice-cream. Now it’s time for your treat,” I
said.

I put down a fresh bowl of dog food—and added a few small pieces of last
night’s turkey.

“Come on Killer. Dinnertime,” I called.

He growled at the cabinet underneath the sink.

What’s going on? This dog
never
walks away from a meal, I thought.

“Killer,” Daniel said, “what are you doing under there? Killer?”

I bent down and petted the dog’s back. “Killer, there’s nothing in there. The
Grool is gone.”

But Killer kept growling.

“Okay, okay.” I yanked the cabinet door open for the dog. “See?”

Killer shoved his head inside.

I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him out. He carried
something in his teeth.