Tales of Scream Street: Sweet Screams!
Luke Watson lay back in the ebony coffin, folded his arms over his chest and gazed up at the moon hanging lazily in the sky above. Yep – this was officially the weirdest sleepover he’d ever been to!
Apart from the fact that he was outdoors, coffins, he decided, weren’t exactly the most comfortable of beds. He could hardly move his legs, and every time he tried to stretch out his arms he cracked his elbow.
He sat up, leant over and rapped on the lid of the golden sarcophagus that lay on the grass beside him.
“What?” came a muffled voice.
“I can’t sleep,” said Luke. “Can you?”
The lid of the sarcophagus swung open and a young vampire appeared, red-cheeked and gasping for air. “I can’t breathe in here, let alone sleep,” moaned Resus Negative. “And I’m sweating like a bog monster!”
“As long as you don’t make my sarcophagus smell like a bog monster,” warned a bandaged face that appeared over the side of his casket. Cleo Farr was wriggling around on the grass in a sleeping bag. “This thing is far too soft!” she grumbled.
“Remind me again whose idea this was?” said Luke.
“Well,” retorted Resus, “it was your idea to have a sleepover, and my suggestion to do it outdoors as it’s been so hot – but it was the marvellous mummy here who had a brain-burp and decided we should swap beds.”
“I just thought it would be a good way to learn a bit more about each other’s cultures!” exclaimed Cleo. “I didn’t know Luke’s sleeping bag was going to be this thin and— Aargh!”
Cleo jumped as a decomposing hand burst up through the ground beside her. The hole widened and one of Scream Street’s resident zombies, Doug, clambered out of his freshly excavated tunnel, clutching a piece of rotting meat.
“Little dudes!” he beamed. “What’s the scoop?”
“No scoop, Doug,” sighed Luke as he slumped back into the coffin, banging his head on a brass handle as he did so. “We’re just trying to have a sleepover.”
“But it’s not going too well,” added Resus, mopping his brow with his cape.
Doug frowned, and his chin fell off. He quickly retrieved it, coating the exposed bone with a generous amount of green, gooey saliva before sticking it back in place. “No wonder, little dudes! You’re all in the wrong cribs!”
“Try telling that to bossy-bandages over there,” muttered Resus.
“I just thought it might make things a bit more fun!” Cleo snapped.
“Chill out, compadres,” soothed Doug, taking a bite from the lump of meat. “I’m all for expanding the mind – but you need your rest, man. You’ll get nothing but the grouch if you try and snooze in another dude’s sack!”
“Doug’s right,” said Luke. “If we’re going to get any sleep, we’ll have to go back to our own beds. “Give me my sleeping bag,” he said to Cleo, “and you can get back into your sarcophagus. Resus – the coffin’s all yours!”
The trio switched back to their own beds and settled down.
“That’s better,” sighed Luke.
“You’re telling me,” added Resus.
“Nice and firm,” smiled Cleo, relaxing against the hard surface of her casket. “Thanks, Doug!”
“No problemo, little lady,” beamed the zombie. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to find something to spice up this stomach.”
The mummy sat bolt upright. “Stomach?” she cried.
Doug waved the rancid meat in her face. “Found it lying about in a pile of bones – but it’s bland city, man! I thought it would be full of whatever cool cuisine the dude had for his last meal, but it’s as empty as a ghost’s gizzard!”
“That’s disgusting,” groaned Cleo, pulling her bandages up over her mouth.
“Hey, it’s not just brains on the menu when you’re undead, you know,” said Doug. “Those things go straight to my thighs!” The zombie grinned at the trio, losing his chin for a second time. “I gotta find me a stapler,” he groaned, grabbing his lower jaw to hold it in place. He dived back into his tunnel.
Cleo lay back down again slowly. “I think I’m going to be sick…”
“Then I’m glad you’re not in my sleeping bag now!” said Luke.
“I’m glad too,” teased Resus. “Have you noticed there’s a distinct lack of moaning in the air now a certain mummy’s back in her sarcophagus?”
“Ha, ha,” said Cleo, refusing to rise to the bait. “Now, everyone get some sleep!” She gave a big yawn. “Night, night!
“Sleep tight!” replied Resus.
“Don’t let the bed bugs—” began Luke.
“LUKE, NO!”
Resus and Cleo were out of their beds and on top of their friend in a split-second. “Did he say it?” whispered the vampire.
“I don’t know!” cried Cleo, fixing Resus with an accusing stare. “I was too busy slipping on the puddles of sweat as I tried to get out of my sarcophagus!”
“Maybe he didn’t get to the end of the sentence,” said Resus hopefully.
“What sentence?” came a strangulated yelp from beneath them.
Cautiously, Cleo pulled the sleeping bag off Luke’s face and allowed him to sit up.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
Resus and Cleo looked at each other. “I said, ‘Night, night’,” began the mummy. “Then Resus said, ‘Sleep tight’…”
“Yes, I know that,” said Luke. “And I finished with, ‘Don’t let the bed bugs bite’. It’s what you say when—”
Boing! Boing!
Resus sighed. “He’s done it.”
Boing! Boing!
“They’re on their way,” agreed Cleo.
“What have I ‘done’?” Luke demanded. “What are on their way? And what’s that strange noise?” He had barely finished speaking when a group of black, spiky insects bounced over the garden hedge.
“Bed bugs,” explained Resus. “Eight of them, to be precise – one for each hour of the night.”
“Bed bugs?” asked Luke incredulously, watching as the insects came closer. There were indeed eight of them, each the size of a golf ball and covered in spiky black fur. They looked like tiny, evil sea anemones. “Surely you’re not telling me that bed bugs are real— OW!” Luke jumped back as one of them leapt forward and bit him on the end of his nose with a single, razor-sharp fang.
“They’re only real if you believe in them!” shouted Resus, pulling his cape over his head before the airborne attackers reached him. “Which is why we never mention them out loud, in case we start to believe!”
“Then why did no one mention to me that we don’t mention them?” cried Luke, swatting at one of the bugs as it began to pound up and down on his head.
Resus lifted up his cape to peer out. “I thought it might be the same in your world…”
“Trust me, I’d have mentioned it!” retorted Luke, now surrounded by the spiky creatures.
“Quickly! Under here!” called Cleo, flipping her sarcophagus over and crawling underneath. Luke and Resus raced across the grass to join her, and not a moment too soon. The bugs began to hurl themselves repeatedly at the outside of the casket, bouncing off with sickening squelches.
“What do we do now?” asked Luke into the darkness.
“Don’t ask me,” snapped Resus. “You’re the one who brought eight hungry bed bugs into existence!”
“We could try not believing in them any more,” suggested Luke.
“What?”
“Well, if I brought them here by talking about them,” he reasoned, “they might disappear if we stop believing in them.”
Cleo shook her head. “If you want to go out there and tell those biting beasties that you don’t believe they exist, go right ahead!”
There was a pause. More splats could be heard on the outside of the sarcophagus.
After a while, Luke sighed. “So, what is going to make them go away?”
“They won’t go anywhere until they’ve eaten,” replied Resus. “They turn up starving, but once they’ve filled their stomachs, they disappear of their own accord.”
“Eaten?” said Luke. “Eaten what?”
“Us!” Resus and Cleo replied together.
An image flashed across Luke’s mind of the spiky creatures biting off chunks of his flesh with their sharp, single fangs, and he quickly shook his head to dispel it. Then he smiled. “What if we’re not the ones on the menu…? Quick, move the sarcophagus about two metres to the left!”
“Move it?” cried Cleo. “How?”
Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Scuttle?”
“Brilliant,” scoffed Resus. “We’re being bombarded by kamikaze creepy-crawlies, and he wants to pretend to be a turtle.”
“Just move!” hissed Luke.
Gripping the edges of the sarcophagus, the trio began to scamper, crab-like, across the garden. Within seconds the bed bugs were all over their exposed fingertips.
“Ow! Ow!”
Boing! Boing!
“OW! I can’t keep my hands out there much longer,” grunted Resus.
“You don’t have to,” said Luke. “We’re there!”
“Where?” demanded Cleo as the trio pulled their hands back inside and let the box fall down over them again. “What are you going to do?”
“I’d tell you,” said Luke, beginning to scratch at the soil beneath them with his fingers, “but I don’t think you’ve got the stomach for it!” The recently dug tunnel soon appeared. Luke pushed his face into the dirt and yelled: “Doug, time to fill your belly!”
The zombie’s own face appeared below them in the muddy hole, his eyes glinting as he dragged himself to the surface.
“Steady…” said Luke. “Wait for it… Wait for it… NOW!”
As the zombie’s hand appeared beside them – fingers still clutching the half-eaten stomach – Luke, Resus and Cleo launched themselves backwards. The sarcophagus flew across the garden and skidded on the grass, leaving the trio exposed.
The bed bugs bounced towards them.
Boing! Boing!
“Look out!” screamed Cleo. “They’re going to bite!”
“They’re not the only ones,” grinned Doug as he clambered out of the hole and pulled open the rotting, rubbery stomach. One by one, the bugs leapt into it and sank their teeth into the decaying flesh.
Once all eight were inside, Doug snapped the stomach closed, cracked his jaw wide open and stuffed the stomach, squealing bed bugs and all, into his mouth.
“Now, that’s a spicy meat-a-ball!” the zombie quipped as he crunched down, clutching his chin with his free hand to stop it falling off again.
Luke gathered up his sleeping bag and wrapped it around his shoulders once more. He yawned. “Now can we go to sleep?” he asked.
“You might be able to,” said Cleo, watching in disgust as Doug strolled away, chewing noisily. “I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again after that!”
Resus lay back in his coffin and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nonsense,” he said. “You’ll be snoring away in to time.”
“Yeah,” agreed Luke. “In fact, I bet the sandman’s on his way here right now.”
Resus bounded up from his bed and clamped his hand over Luke’s mouth. “You can’t help yourself, can you,” he snapped. “What did you have to go and say that for?”
“Say what?” said Luke, pulling his hand away indignantly. “Sandman?”
The trio jumped as a tiny figure in a yellow top-hat suddenly appeared from nowhere. Cackling insanely, he grabbed a handful of what looked like sand from a crudely stitched sack slung over his shoulder and threw it in their direction. It hissed as it landed, leaving scorch marks on the grass.
Cleo flipped her sarcophagus over once more and sighed. “I should have known that having a sleepover with you two would be a nightmare!”
THE END