Sammy Feral's Diaries of Weird by Eleanor Hawken

Author:Eleanor Hawken [Hawken, Eleanor]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: JUVENILE FICTION
ISBN: 9781623650339
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2013-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

Monday April 13th

Think of the worst day you’ve ever had. Times that day by 10, step in a cowpie, let a bird poo on your head, and add a few school exams—that still wouldn’t beat my day in the Bad Day Olympics!

Mark gave out invitations to his birthday party today. I didn’t get one. He’s not having it at the zoo any more. His parents have rented out the town hall instead. Tommy told me that there’s gonna be a laser tag, Sumo wrestling suits, a barbecue, and paintball games in the back. And apparently it’s a costume party—the theme is “Jungle Danger.”

I can’t believe Mark hasn’t invited me—he knows I have the best snake costume in town.

But the worst thing that happened today . . . Pickitt came to the zoo again—and the pressure is ON!

Me, Dad, and Donny were in the Backstage offices when we heard a noise coming from the yard. We went out to investigate and there he was—the slimeball himself, his greasy hair slicked back and his shiny shoes trampling all over the zoo floor!

Pickitt held a tape measure up against the werewolf cage. “Do you think this cage would be big enough to hold a yeti?” he asked Dad with an evil smirk.

Dad’s tired eyes flicked toward Donny for help.

“No, and even if it was,” Donny replied, “this zoo is not for sale.”

“I take it you haven’t seen my legal notice yet then?” Pickitt smirked, taking an envelope out of his jacket pocket and waving it about. The professor looked even more unhinged than on his last visit—his eyes crossed as he spoke and his tongue kept flicking out of his mouth like a lizard’s. “I wasn’t sure if you had, so I brought this along for you, Mr. Feral.” Pickitt handed Dad a sealed envelope.

Dad opened the envelope and read. The color drained from his face and his hands shook. “Please,” Dad choked on his words. “I’ll do anything, please don’t . . . ”

Pickitt gave Dad a horrible oily grin and put his tape measure back in his pocket. “You have until the next full moon to be in touch.”

And then he left. He just walked out as if nothing had happened.

“You’ve picked the wrong people to mess with, Pickitt,” I shouted after him.

Then I lifted the letter out of Dad’s trembling hands and read it aloud:

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