Zits from Python Pit #6 (5 page)

The protective ring had finally been laid, and the largest vampire boar was roasting over a fire.

“Normally,” said Director Z, “I would recommend against this, but considering our situation, I felt it was warranted.”

“Recommend against what?” asked Ben. “Eating vampire flesh? Are we going to get terrible indigestion and turn into vampires?”

“No, the meat will not harm you,” said Director Z.

“I'm not so sure about that,” Ben said. “You know I have a sensitive stomach, right?”

“There are other things to eat in the jungle if you're not hungry for this,” said Director Z.

“Like what?” said Ben, cheering up a little.

“Pietro, can you sniff out a little snack for Ben?” asked Director Z.

Pietro stood up, turned into a wolf, and sniffed the behinds of a few other monsters. He stopped at Gil's backside.

SNIFF SNIFF SNIFFFFFF.

“Hey, I know I have a gas problem, but you don't have to rub it in,” said Gil.

Gil stood up and walked away. Pietro began to claw at the log he and Twenty-Three were sitting on. He changed back into human form, pulled up the bark, and drooled a little at what he found underneath.

“Ooooh, eat up, Ben!” said Pietro.

“What?” asked Ben, and he went over to have a better look.

I went over with him and found myself face-to-face with the biggest maggots I'd ever seen in my life. They wiggled and squirmed, upset to be in the open air.

“So juicy,” said Pietro. He plucked one out of the wood. “Not one bit of crunch. Perfectly mushy and delicious, just like a small pouch of whipped cream.”

Pietro popped the maggot into his mouth, let it squirm around for a moment, and then, SLURRP! “Mmmmmm, that was good.”

“I think I'll stick to the hampire,” said Ben.

“That's the spirit!” said Director Z.

Once the boar was ready, even a few of the monsters had a bite.

“I'm just really interested in vhat it tastes like,” said Grigore as he took a huge bite.

“It tastes really good,” I said. I fed a little bit to the monkey, who was still on my shoulder. “I'm amazed I'm not starved, though. I don't remember eating anything while I was on the run.”

“Oh, you ate plenty while you were ‘on the run,'” said Gordon.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You ate anything that wouldn't eat you in the Nile,” said Gordon. “You'd take one bite out of a fish and just toss it, which is how we were able to eat so well when we followed you.”

“And?” I asked. “Did I eat any of those maggots?”

“Maybe,” replied Gordon. “We can't be sure. You weren't always in our sight.”

“So what did you see me eat?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know.

Gordon looked like he wasn't sure he wanted to tell. “You feasted for a little bit on a water buffalo that had been dead for a pretty long time. Fur and all. Just a few bites, though. And then there were the fish and cranes and that hippo.”

“Hippo?”

“Yes, just one bite,” said Director Z. “You crept up from behind and bit its posterior. It was so insulted that it poo—”

“Don't ruin my dinner!” said Clarice. She chewed on a bit of boar tenderloin. “Clive, dear, are you sure you don't want any?”

He answered Clarice by lifting a leg.

FLLLLLLURT.

“Wowee,” said Gil, waving his hand in front of his face. “Even I, the Fart Master, must tip my hat to raw power and skill when I see it!”

“What did I say about ruining my dinner?” said Clarice.

“Director Z, Clive can't sleep in my tent,” said Roy. “He's going to burn off all of my fur with his mega-farts.”

“After what we've just encountered,” said Director Z, “it's important for everyone to have a buddy, including Clive, and everyone needs to stay in their tents. Better to be safe and covered in a fart cloud than dead, I say.”

“Then why don't you make Clive
your
buddy?” asked Roy.

“Because I'm the Director,” he said. “A Director cannot be distracted by a fart cloud. A Bigfoot can. I need to concentrate. There's something else going on in the jungle, something even more worrisome than big cats.”

“I've been thinking about the corpse flower,” said Ben. “Those are only found in Sumatra, in Indonesia. Not Africa.”

“Correct,” said Director Z with a smirk. “Your intelligence is always surprising me in new ways.”

“Me too,” said Nabila, impressed with her boyfriend.

Ben blushed.

“How do you know stuff like that?” Gordon asked Ben.

“How do you know how to kick a field goal?” asked Ben. “You practice at sports. I practice at being a nerd.”

“So someone brought a corpse flower deep into the African jungle,” said Shane. “Why?”

“I'm not sure,” said Director Z. “But its appearance, coupled with the vampire boars, makes me feel like we've stumbled upon some source of monster power. I wonder if all of this monstrous influence is what's attracting Chris.”

“But I don't feel like we're where we need to be yet,” I said. “Close, yes, but not quite there. I wasn't looking for a corpse flower.”

“There's something else,” said Director Z. “For an instant, just a few seconds, my phone gave off a very interesting warning alarm. It seems that it may have picked up a distress signal.”

“A distress signal?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“Each retirement home can send a distress signal if the need should arise,” replied Director Z. “But I'm not sure if it's real. I don't know of any retirement home in this area. And it was such a brief signal. It might just be that my phone is acting strangely because of our recent trip to the moon.”

“Or a retirement home might be in distress,” I said. “Am I being called by a retirement home?”

Director Z didn't answer. He sat still in front of the fire. “We'll move on in the morning,” he said. “But we should proceed with caution.”

“Just to be clear,” I said to the monkey, “Shane is my tent buddy. You've gotta sleep outside.”

In the morning, we packed up all of our supplies in Roy's huge bag and started walking toward “it” again. It was another sticky day in the jungle. Huge mosquitoes hovered around our faces.

“Good morning, dear friends,” said Grigore.

“If one of your dear friends bites me,” I said, “I will slap it.”

Grigore waved his hand with a flourish, and the mosquitoes flew away.

“You don't have any idea how long until we get there?” Shane asked me.

“No, but I've been feeling calmer and calmer as we move toward whatever it is, and I don't think it's because of Gil's armpit raisin,” I said. “I woke up feeling great, so maybe we'll find what I'm looking for today.”

“Where's your monkey friend?” asked Shane.

“I don't know,” I said. “Maybe he got mad at me after I booted him out of our tent last night.”

The sun was high in the sky as we walked through the jungle. We were just about to stop for a break, when Pietro growled.

“There's something nearby,” he said, and turned into a werewolf.

“What do you mean?” I asked the angry werewolf. “You can't just turn into a wolf without explanation. Is it big? Is it a monster?”

I looked at Director Z, and he shrugged.

WHOOOOOOSH!

Without warning, a huge white object burst out of a nearby bush and hit Gordon right between his eyes.

“Aaaaargh!” Gordon yelled. “It's killing me!”

“Gordon!” Shane yelled. He rushed over to Gordon, who covered his nose.

“My face! My face!” Gordon moaned. “Oh, I'm dying.” He fell to his knees.

“What was that?” Twenty-Three asked. “Is something eating his face?”

The monsters formed a protective circle around Gordon and Shane. I crawled under Roy's legs to get a better look.

“It was a soccer ball,” said Nabila. She held it up for everyone to see.

“A soccer ball?” asked Shane.

“Yeah, and it hit me right in my zit,” whined Gordon. “Right in the center.”

He took his hand off of his nose. A red circle covered his eyes, nose, and forehead. His recently popped zit was right at the center.

“Bull's-eye!” said Ben.

“Excusez-moi?”
a small voice said.
“Avez-vous vu ma balle?”

A young boy in a tattered pair of shorts, shoes too big for his feet, and a clean soccer jersey stood in front of us.

Everyone froze.

I wonder what he thinks about us,
I thought.

“
Oui,”
said Nabila. She walked past the monsters. They didn't move an inch. Not even Director Z knew what to do.

“We've been caught,” whispered Shane.

Nabila handed the boy the soccer ball.

“Merci,”
he said, and ran down a path that I hadn't seen before.

As soon as he was gone, everyone—children and monsters—started chattering nervously.

“What was he saying?” Gordon said. “Was he making fun of me?”

“No, he just wanted his ball,” said Nabila.

“He's the one who kicked it?” asked Gordon. “Man, I've never been hit so hard in my life.”

“He didn't seem to care that a bunch of Americans were rolling through the jungle with a bunch of monsters,” said Shane.

“He didn't even say anything about Roy,” said Ben.

“Where
is
Roy?” I asked. I looked around.

Roy came out from behind a tree. “Sorry, I got scared.”

“No, it's good that the soccer ball kid didn't see you,” I said. “Twenty-Three must have been behind someone, and Clive looks pretty good—for a zombie, anyway.”

“Fresh air and sea spray are totally rejuvenating,” said Clive. He gave the sign for
hang ten
. “Yeah!”

“You guys stay here,” I said to the monsters. “We're going to investigate.”

“Yes,” said Director Z. “Let's go investigate.”

Director Z walked forward, but I held up my hand. “No,” I said. “You're too creepy.”

“Creepy?” Director Z said. “I'm not a zombie. I'm not a Bigfoot.”

“You're a tall, pale adult walking through the jungle in the searing heat with a perfectly pressed suit on,” I said. “You're totally creepy.”

“Yeah, if there are more kids, we should be the ones to talk with them,” Gordon said.

“Fine,” Director Z said. “But be careful!”

We followed the path the soccer kid had taken. Giggles and shouts filled the air.

“That sounds like a lot of kids,” said Nabila.

“Hopefully there are no adults with them,” Ben said. “Adults are always asking too many questions. Kids just get it, you know?”

“Yeah, we should just tell them what's going on,” said Shane. “The monsters, Chris's journey, the great time we had in Egypt. I'm sure they'll help.”

“I'm not sure about that,” I said. “Kids are better than adults, for sure, but we have to think up a cover story.”

The path opened up on a clearing. We stepped out onto a crude soccer field.

WHOOOOOOSH.

A soccer ball flew past the tip of my nose. Shane snatched it before it smashed him in the face.

“Catlike reflexes,” said Gordon. “Wish I had those.” He rubbed his zit again.

A few kids ran up to us. The rest stayed on the field, annoyed that their game had been interrupted.

“Parlez-vous anglais?”
asked Nabila.

“Huh?” said Gordon.

“Oui,”
said one of the older kids. “I mean, yes! Where are you from?” He also wore a clean soccer jersey, but his big toe was poking out of the front of a very old shoe.

“We're from America,” Nabila said. “Well, I'm from Egypt, but they're from America.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Shane blurted out, “We were trapped in an Egyptian pyramid after an old friend went a little cuckoo, and now we and the monsters that helped save us are helping Chris here, who's currently suffering from a brain fever and had to eat an armpit raisin.”

“Quoi?”
the kid asked.

“He doesn't understand,” said Nabila.

“Hiking,” I yelled quickly before Shane could say anything else. “We're going hiking.”

“Ah, hiking,” he said. “
Je comprends
. Why are you hiking here?”

“School trip,” I said.

“I understand,” he said. “What's your name?”

“Chris,” I said. “What's yours?”

“Diblo,” he said. “You like to play soccer?”

“Yeah, totally!” yelled Gordon. He rushed out on the field.

A little kid grabbed the ball from Shane and threw it out after Gordon. Everyone followed.

“Wait, Diblo!” I yelled. “I want to ask you. Does anything strange ever happen in this town? You know, scary stuff? I like to write stories, and I'm always looking for ideas.”

“We got plenty of scary old people here,” said Diblo. “They scare women who walk out late. They eat all the chickens.”

“Tell me more,” I said.

“A friend, he sees one out late at night,” Diblo said. He laughed. “The person was so old, my friend scared him! No eat chickens that night!”

“Old?” asked Shane. “Old . . . monsters?”

“Who knows, could just be crazy,” said Diblo. “We always had a few old crazies like that. Retirement home outside of town for rich old crazies. Fly in from all over the world. And the rest of us want to be anywhere but here.”

“A retirement home, huh?” I said.

Gordon ran back up to us. “Guys, you've got to get in on this game,” he said. “They're awesome! They'd destroy the Rio Vista team—and we've won finals three years running.”

Diblo stared down at Gordon's feet, and his face lit up. “We even better with shoes like these. Where you get these?”

“Oh, these?” asked Gordon. “They're all right, I guess. Come on, guys, let's—”

“We need to go,” I said, interrupting Gordon. “You know we have a tight hiking schedule to keep.”

“Come on, man, I just got started,” Gordon said.

Shane walked over to grab Gordon and dragged him back up the trail.

“Nice to meet you, Diblo!” I said.

But Diblo was just staring at Gordon's shoes.