Attack of the Vampire Weenies by David Lubar Read Free Book Online

Little bits of wood and sawdust flew out from under the seat. Brian stomped again and again, until the anthill was flattened, the seat was jammed into the ground, and he was panting and sweating.
    He stayed out of the backyard for a week.
    When he finally went to check, the seat was gone. So was one whole leg of the swing set. Ants swarmed over the three remaining legs. The anthill was back, taller than ever.
    â€œNo! Die!” Brian kicked the anthill. Then he stamped on the nearest mass of ants. He raised his foot, hoping to see a smeared mess of dead insects.
    Instead, he saw living ants.
    He stomped again. He screamed. He kept stomping until his sneaker fell apart.
    â€œWhat?”
    Brian raised his leg and stared at the laced-together pieces that dangled from his foot. The sneaker was shredded. As the sun moved out from behind a cloud, a flash of light caught Brian’s attention. He bent over.
    The ants shone like steel, reflecting the sun.
    As he stood there, they swarmed up his legs.
    Brian brushed at them. Their sharp edges cut his fingers. They clung to his pants. He brushed harder. More ants swarmed.
    Brian turned to run. He couldn’t. The weight of the metal ants pulled him to the ground.
    He fell, screaming, as hundreds more ants swarmed over him.
    The screams didn’t last long.
    The sun moved back behind a cloud. Right before it disappeared, some of the ants flashed and glistened. Others seemed to grow duller, colored almost like flesh. The metallic ants returned to the remains of the swing set, hungry for more metal. The flesh ants milled toward the rear door of the house. They were hungry, too.

 
    CAT GOT YOUR NOSE?
    â€œCan I have a cat?” Emily asked.
    â€œNo, sweetie,” her mom said. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œNo way,” her dad said. “Cats stink.”
    Most kids would have worked on Mom, since she was the softer of the two parents. But Emily was stunningly clever, and knew it was much easier to hit a target you could see. Mom hadn’t given any real objection. Dad had lobbed a softball right over the plate.
    â€œCats don’t stink,” Emily said.
    â€œSure they do,” Dad said. “You know what it’s like at Miss Reaker’s house.”
    Miss Reaker lived on the next block. She loved animals, and was always happy to take in stray cats. And though Miss Reaker’s house did smell a bit catty, this was exactly the answer Emily was hoping for, because it allowed her to keep her argument going.
    â€œThat doesn’t count. Miss Reaker has fifteen cats. I just want one. It won’t stink.”
    â€œIt will stink less,” Dad said. “But it will still stink. A big stink divided by fifteen is still a stink.”
    Emily opened her mouth. Her dad held up his hand. “Cats stink. End of discussion.”
    End of discussion, perhaps, but the beginning of Emily’s quest. She went to the library to read every book and magazine article she could find about smells, odors, aromas, and scents. It took her five months to learn what she needed, and another two months to perfect her anti-stink formula.
    During that whole agonizing time, she never even uttered the word cat in the presence of either of her parents. But now the time had come.
    â€œDad, if cats didn’t stink, could I have one?” she asked after she’d put the final version of the formula into a small squirt bottle.
    He laughed. “Sure.”
    â€œPromise?”
    â€œAbsolutely. I think it’s a safe promise, because cats stink. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
    â€œCan we go visit Miss Reaker?” Emily asked.
    Dad wrinkled his nose, but then said, “Okay. But just a quick visit.”
    Emily liked visiting Miss Reaker. She made wonderful cookies, as long as you didn’t mind a bit of cat hair among the chocolate chips, and the occasional little crunchy thing that was better left unidentified.
    When they reached