The Psychozone by David Lubar Read Free Book Online

smunkies,” he said, holding up the jar. “Big smunkies.”
    â€œYeah, they sure are big.” I watched the shrimp swimming around the jar. They were large enough that I could make out their legs and eyes.
    â€œMaybe I need a bigger jar,” Tommy said.
    â€œNo, they won’t grow that much.”
    â€œThey might,” he said. “Got a bigger jar?”
    â€œLet’s look.”
    We went to the cellar, where we keep all the really good junk, and searched around. I finally found an old jar that must have been left over from when Mom had decided she could save a lot of money by buying really big bunches of everything. She’d gotten this gigantic vat of mayonnaise. It took up almost a whole shelf in the fridge. I think it went bad before we’d had a chance to use up even half of it. I was glad, too. For a while, we seemed to be living on tuna salad, chicken salad, potato salad, and anything else that needed mayonnaise.

    â€œPerfect, isn’t it?” I asked Tommy when we’d found the jar.
    â€œYeah.”
    I carried it upstairs. We filled it with water from the bathtub faucet. Then I lugged it to his room and we poured in the smunkies.
    I pretty much forgot all about them after that. Every couple of days, Tommy might mention them. “Smunkies are growing,” he’d say, or, “I’m feeding my smunkies lots of food.”
    Then he asked me for a bigger jar. That wouldn’t have been so bad, except he did it when Brian was over.
    â€œWhatcha want a jar for?” Brian asked.
    I shook my head, trying to signal Tommy, but he didn’t see me. “Smunkies,” he said. “My smunkies are real big now.”
    â€œSmunkies?” Brian asked, grinning like a true idiot. “Let’s see them. Can we see them? Please? I’d love to get a look at some honest-to-goodness giant smunkies.” He winked at me.
    I had a feeling this was not going to turn out well. Tommy ran up to his room. I guess he was so proud and excited, he was eager to show his treasure to anyone. Brian followed right behind, chanting “Smunkies, let’s see those smunkies.”
    â€œCome on, Brian,” I said. “Don’t mess with anything.”
    He turned back toward me. “Hey, relax. I just want to see these smunkies.” Then he laughed.
    â€œDon’t ruin anything, okay?” I asked.
    â€œHey, you can trust me,” he said.
    We went into Tommy’s room. The jar was on
the floor next to his bed. Looking from the top, you couldn’t really see anything. Tommy flopped to his knees and pointed to the side of the container. Brian and I joined him.
    My jaw dropped. Inside, so crammed they almost couldn’t move, were Tommy’s smunkies. But these were not little specks—these were huge! Some of them were half as big as my fist!
    â€œCool,” Brian said. “Check them out.” He unscrewed the lid of the jar and reached in.
    An instant later, he screamed and pulled his hand back. He was always being such a jerk; I figured he’d do something like that.
    â€œIt’s got me!” he screamed. He waved his hand and danced around the room like he was in pain.
    â€œYeah, sure,” I said, not impressed. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
    I started to walk from the room. Brian was still screaming. Then he started smashing his hand against the wall. “Hey, stop it, you’ll break something,” I said.
    That’s when I noticed the red blotches splattered over the paint on the wall. That’s also when I started to get scared. Before I could do anything, Brian stumbled into the jar and knocked it over and the rest of the smunkies got loose.
    Whatever they were, they moved fast.
    In a second, they were all over Brian. I did what I could to help him. I grabbed one and tried to pull it off, but it was like grabbing a rock. The thing was hard, and sharp.
    â€œSmunkies …” Tommy