The Mystery of the Graffiti Ghoul by Marty Chan

Author:Marty Chan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV028000
Publisher: Thistledown Press
Published: 2014-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

“Garlic!” I yelled as I fumbled with the cap of my spice bottle. “Get the garlic!”

Faster than a gunslinger, Remi drew his spice bottle from his pocket, uncapped it, and shook it furiously over his hand. Nothing came out.

“It’s clumping!” he yelled.

“My cap’s stuck.”

“Turn the other way.”

I spun on my toes to the left. “This way?”

“No. Turn the cap the other way,” he said.

Finally, the cap popped open. All the garlic powder spilled out, leaving only a dash of zombie protection.

“I’m out,” I said.

“You had the full bottle.”

“The powder’s on the ground.”

“Scoop it up!”

I dropped to the ground, sweeping the grass for garlic but finding only dirt.

“It’s blown away,” I yelled. “Run!”

Instead, my friend waved his clogged bottle of oregano/garlic in the air and advanced toward the tombstone: “Get back, creature of the undead!”

“Don’t use it like that,” I ordered. “Throw it like a grenade!”

Remi nodded and lobbed the bottle high in the air.

Trina Brewster stood up from behind the tombstone and caught the bottle like an outfielder snagging a pop fly.

“Just what are you two doing?” she asked, examining the bottle.

“Trina?” I said.

“You guys said something about garlic and grenades?”

“I just farted,” I lied.

“Yeah, gas grenade,” Remi said. “Silent but deadly.”

“Smelled like garlic,” I added.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “Don’t tell me. Marty, you’re helping Remi find a tombstone for his sister to read.”

I stammered for an answer. “Well . . . it’s like . . . Remi . . . he . . . I . . . ”

“You wanted to cook something?” Trina waved the spice bottle.

“Why are you here?” Remi went on the attack. “Are you following Marty again?”

“Hel-lo,” she said snarkily. “I’m visiting my grandmother’s grave.”

“Where is it?” he asked.

“Over there,” Trina waved to the other side of the cemetery.

“Show us,” I said.

She scratched at her arm nervously and stuttered, “I-i-it’s over there somewhere. M-my mom is the one who always brings me here. I-I never paid attention. I think I’m lost. All the tombstones look alike.”

Sure that she was lying, I cornered her. “Maybe we can help you look.”

She glared at me. “I don’t need your help. If you don’t mind, I have to pay my respects.”

She spun around and walked away. The back of her hair was covered with tiny yellow leaves — the same ones from the prickly bushes.

“Wait a minute,” I cried out. “You have leaves in your hair.”

She brushed her head and shook out her hair. “So what?”

“Were you hiding in the bushes by the fence?”

“No.” She fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other, looking like she had something to hide.

I decided to lay out a trap. “Well, that’s a good thing, because they’re poison ivy.”

Remi tried to correct me, “No, they’re not . . . ”

I elbowed him. “He meant they’re not regular poison ivy. They’re cemetery poison ivy.”

I cracked my neck to the left and right, then yawned, covering my mouth with both hands.

“Marty’s right.” He picked up on our signal. “It’s the deadliest poison ivy.”

Trina shook her head.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.