28 The Party Pooper

The Party Pooper Party! Not party-warty—PARTY!" roared the beast, severely disappointed to have its entrance spoiled by such a stupid slip of the tongues. "I hope you don't mind me crashing the PARTY." The beast cast its eyes around the room. The neighbors were clearly unsettled by the explosive entrance, but they weren't looking at

the beast with quite the same level of horrified fear that it had grown to expect. In fact, the beast could have sworn that there were looks of concern in their eyes. It realized it was still wearing the stupid dog costume. It pulled down the hood and wiggled its fingers to shred it to pieces. "Are you all right, beast?" asked a small, warbly voice, belonging to the kindly old lady. "Have you just given yourself a shave?" "'All right' isn't the word!" boomed the beast into its megaphone. It raised its free tiny hand triumphantly into the air. "I am majestic! I am splendid! I am the most extraordinary being to ever set foot on this pathetic little earthy-werthy! EARTH, I MEAN EARTH!" "That is the most splendiferous of news," said Eduardo, thrilled to have an opportunity

to use the word he had learned from that day's loo paper. "Bethany was sayin' summat about having killed you," said the bird-keeper. "And we were so worried. It must have been another of her jokes no one gets. She used to think it funny to swap my bird feed with farting candy—strange kid." The bird-keeper and some of the others in the room frowned at Bethany, hardly able to believe that she was capable of joking about something as unfunny as the death of the beast. However, Geoffrey beamed with delight. The "joke" explanation made perfect sense to him. "Have you come to help us, beast?" asked Dr. Barnacle, wincing with pain from the arm-

breaking bandages. "I think some of your presents are a little out of control." "Please, lovely beast," croaked the lizard lady, as she battled with the scarf. "Help us." Bethany crawled toward a fallen tower of Miss Muddle's sweets, grabbed two creations, and shoved one at Ebenezer. "Help you?" spat the beast. "I am not here to help you. I was the one who got the vomit to misbehave in the first place, you idiots!" Some of the neighbors frowned. Others laughed. "Why are you all looking at me like this?" asked the beast, with a snarly slither. "Have you no sense? Do you have no idea of who I am?" "'Course we know—silly ickle beasty," said Amy Clue, a teddy-bear-carrying toddler from

the orphanage. "You's a kind and speshul friend. Nuffin' scary 'bout beasty." The toddler's voice was little, but her words were greeted with gusto by the rest of the neighbors. None of them seemed to be afraid. The beast didn't like it one little bit, because it didn't know how it was supposed to respond. "Nothing scary, eh?" said the beast. "Nothing scary about… THIS?!" The beast wiggled its fingers and set its vomit to work. The giant gnomes bent down and shone their red eyes into the neighbors' faces. The hoatzin's stink-box amplified the bird's odors so the whole shop was filled with a sickening scent. The axe-shaped Frisbees started flying around the room—making everyone duck, out of fear of decapitation.

"This is me—ALL ME!" said the beast, its eyes blazing with fury. "I'm the one who's doing this! Think I'm kind? Think I'm speshul now?" The atmosphere in the room changed immediately. The familiar sound of ear- piercing screams and wide-eyed looks of sheer fear were all on display. The beast smiled, preparing to relish the moment. But for some reason, the sights and sounds didn't bring any joy to its dark soul. There was even a voice in the back of its head saying that what it was doing was totally-wotally wrongsies. The beast looked around the sweetshop for a distraction. It found Bethany and Ebenezer. "Actually—it's not all me," the beast roared into its megaphone. "How can I possibly take