Dinkin Dings and the Frightening Things Read online

  Things looked on in disbelief, she shook off her dog disguise! Her rotten, gray skin hung off her bones and her huge, red eyes lit up the darkness.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake, is anyone around here not a zombalien?” said Dinkin.

  The zombalien dog-beast snarled and started pacing toward them. Dinkin and The Frightening Things turned to run and came face-to-face with the drooling mouths of the three hungry zombaliens!

  “There’s nowhere left to run!” growled Molly. “Just one bite and you will be my zombie slave. First you, then your family, then the house across the street, then the next street, then the town, then the next town, then—”

  “Oh, just bite him!” said Mrs. Coddle.

  “Arthur, ghost us out of here!” cried

  Dinkin.

  “What? Without my arm?” screeched Edgar. “I need that for . . . for . . . well, for all kinds of things!”

  “There’s no time! Arthur, make us ghostly, now!” yelled Dinkin.

  “Too late, human!” screamed Molly, pouncing on Dinkin. She pinned him to the floor and opened her ooze-covered jaws to bite. But as her mouth touched Dinkin’s neck . . .

  “Bleeehh!” shrieked Molly. She fell to the floor, holding her stomach.

  “What on earth’s the matter with you? Honestly, Molly, you’re such a picky eater!” said Mrs. Coddle. She grabbed Dinkin and tried to bite him.

  “Yuurk!” she burped, and threw up all over the floor.

  “It . . . it can’t be!” said Mr. Coddle. He grabbed Dinkin, sniffed him, and gave him a cautious lick.

  “BLURRRRRGH!!” he bawled, and spewed slime all over Dinkin’s rain boots.

  Dinkin couldn’t believe his luck (besides the zombalien vomit on his boots—it was going to take at least six hours of scrubbing to get them clean again). He watched as the zombaliens rolled around the floor in agony. He lifted his arm, sniffed it, and then licked it. He recognized the taste immediately.

  THE TASTE OF FEAR

  Number of embarrassing zombalien secrets revealed: 1

  “What’s going on?” said Herbert as the zombaliens continued to spew gray-green vomit all over the floor.

  “I don’t believe it,” said Dinkin, climbing onto a chair to avoid the sea of vomit. “It seems like zombaliens are allergic to the one thing I have plenty of: fear!”

  “You mean . . . ,” began Edgar.

  “I mean they can’t stand the taste of fear! Which means they can’t stand the taste of me!” cried Dinkin.

  “You taste like nightmares!” said Molly, holding her stomach.

  “I can’t believe it’s happening again,” said Mr. Coddle.

  “Silence! Do not reveal The Secret!”

  “What secret? What’s happening again? What are you talking about?” asked Dinkin.

  Mr. and Mrs. Coddle looked at each other, and sighed.

  “The thing is, we’ve been zombaliens for years, traveling from one planet to the next, trying to turn everyone into mindless zombie slaves,” began Mrs. Coddle.

  “But it’s always the same! The minute we try to actually bite anyone, we feel terrible. We’re allergic to fear!” said Mr. Coddle.

  “But the trouble is, everyone’s scared of zombaliens!” explained Mrs. Coddle. “I mean, just look at us—we’re hideous and terrifying!”

  “That does sound tricky. So why don’t you just do something else?” asked Dinkin, actually starting to feel a little sorry for them.

  “Like what? Zombifying is all we know,” said Mr. Coddle.

  “Well, you could be Frightening Things,” said Edgar, re-attaching his arm.

  “Oh, yes, we don’t have to zombify anyone,” said Arthur. “Plus, the hours are good and you get tons of holidays.”

  “We have been looking for a change of pace,” said Mrs. Coddle.

  “Don’t listen to the human! We are zombaliens!” cried Molly.

  “Oh, please be quiet, Molly,” said Mrs. Coddle.

  As it turned out, everyone ended up getting along pretty well (except for Molly, who was sulking). In fact, by the end of the night, the zombaliens had promised to abandon their plans for global zombification altogether. And Dinkin, in turn, promised to keep them and their rather embarrassing “fear allergy” a secret.

  Before long, it was time for everyone to say their good-byes.

  As the rain dried up, Dinkin and The Frightening Things snuck back to the house and slinked upstairs to Dinkin’s bedroom. They made it back just in time to see the dawn light creep into the room.

  “Well, good night, Dinkin,” said Edgar. “And congratulations on a job well done.”

  “Thanks for the rescue. That was a close one, even for me,” said Dinkin as he watched The Frightening Things fade into nothing. He was about to get into bed when there was a knock on his door. It was Dinkin’s mother.

  “Morning, Dinkin, up already? Oh, good! That gives you plenty of time to get ready for school.”

  JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SAFE

  Temperature: 61°F

  Outlook: sunny and bright with a slight chance of horror

  That morning at breakfast, Dinkin lazily shoveled cornflakes (soaked in milk for sixteen minutes to prevent gum-scraping) into his mouth. It was all he could do to stay awake.

  “Jeez, Dink—you look like a zombie!” said Mr. Dings as he swigged his third cup of coffee. “Didn’t get much sleep, eh? Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” said Dinkin, rubbing his eyes. He thought for a moment about telling his parents all about his night with the zombaliens . . . about the fact that he was right all along. But in the end, he just shook his head and decided not to mention it. Not only would they not believe him, but sometimes it was just easier if he dealt with things himself.

  DING-DONG!

  The doorbell! Dinkin jumped a foot in the air as he always did when the doorbell rang. Mrs. Dings got up to answer it. Doorbells ringing at this hour? Dinkin was immediately suspicious. He followed his mom at a safe distance and hid behind the coat rack as she opened the door. It was a man dressed as a mailman.

  “Oh, hello,” said the man dressed as a mailman. “I’m new to this route, so I thought I’d give you a ring-a-ding and say hello.”

  “Oh, how lovely! Nice to meet you. My name’s Mrs. Dings,” began Dinkin’s mom, but Dinkin didn’t hear any more. He took one look at the man dressed as a mailman and realized that he wasn’t a mailman at all. He was something much, much more terrifying.

  LOOK OUT FOR DINKIN’S NEXT TERRIFYING ADVENTURE!