Monster School

By D.C. Green and Danny Willis

PT the Swamp Boy is terrified. Mafia goblins threaten to murder him – in his first class. He is saved – by Monster School’s meanest:

* A vampire with attitude!

* A socially-challenged zombie!!

* A joker giant spider called … Bruce!!!

Now PT is really sweating. If the Dead Gang learns his secret, h

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ford Street Publishing
• Release date: Sep 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781925000290

D.C. Green

D.C. Green is a Southwest Texas writer who loves the theatre and film. He creates fairy tales, short stories, and other works. He is also a passionate fan of karaoke and is an actor. He lives alone and with roommates, and hopes to write and direct films in his hometown and LA.

Book preview

Monster School

Surf journalist DC Green has won multiple big awards, had thousands of articles published in over forty countries and roamed the world’s greatest surf spots with the likes of eleven-times world champion, Kelly Slater.

Children’s author DC Green has won two very small awards, had six children’s novels published in one country and Kelly Slater no longer returns his calls. DC doesn’t mind.

He loves motivating even the most reluctant of readers and writers. His school shows, that have toured through every Australian state, have been acclaimed as ‘bizarre, egotistical, enthralling, funny and not to be missed,’ while DC’s humorous fantasy Erasmus James series has been hailed ‘the finest written in the history of English literature about mutant chooks and ninja horses’.

For more DC stuff, check out:

dcgreenyarns.blogspot.com

www.facebook.com/DCGreenAuthor

Also by DC Green

Erasmus James and the Galactic Zapp Machine

Erasmus James, King of Kid’s Paradise

Erasmus James and the Grat Siege

Three Little Surfer Pigs

Stinky Squad

MONSTER SCHOOL

DC Green

First published by Ford Street Publishing, an imprint of Hybrid Publishers, PO Box 52, Ormond VIC 3204

Melbourne Victoria Australia

© DC Green 2013

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

This publication is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced by any process without prior written permission from the publisher. Requests and enquiries concerning reproduction should be addressed to

Ford Street Publishing Pty Ltd

2 Ford Street, Clifton Hill VIC 3068.

Ford Street website: www.fordstreetpublishing.com

First published 2013

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:

Author: Green, D C, 1965–

Title: Monster school / DC Green; illustrator, Danny Willis

ISBN: 9781925000078 (paperback)

Target Audience: For primary school age.

Subjects: Secrets – Juvenile fiction.

Monsters – Juvenile fiction.

School – Juvenile fiction.

Other authors/contributors: Willis, Danny, illustrator.

Dewey Number: A823.4

© Cover and interior illustrations Danny Willis 2013

© Cover design: Grant Gittus

In-house editor: Gemma Dean-Furlong

Printing and quality control in China by Tingleman Pty Ltd

‘Deadicated’ to Di ‘Mummy’ Bates &

Bill ‘Zombie’ Condon – great mates, an

inspirational couple and monstrously talented

writers to boot!

CONTENTS

PART 1: THE PRINCE

1: PERMISSIONS

2: EDUCATIONS

PART 2: SWAMP BOY

3: FRICTIONS

4: INITIATIONS

5: AGGRESSIONS

6: TRANSFORMATIONS

7: DIGESTIONS

8: REVISIONS

9: REGURGITATIONS

10: REVELATIONS

11: REACTIONS

PART 3: THE KING

12: SUSPICIONS

13: PENETRATIONS

14: REALISATIONS

15: DECLARATIONS

16: LOCOMOTIONS

17: SUBSTITUTIONS

18: PREPARATIONS

19: VISIONS

20: COMBUSTIONS

21: DESTINATIONS

22: COLLISIONS

23: REVERBERATIONS

24: DECEPTIONS

25: LAMENTATIONS

26: CONSUMPTIONS

27: MISSIONS

EPILOGUE

PART 1: THE DEAD ZONE

1: MAZING

PART 1: THE PRINCE

‘Come … to Bloody Mary!’

1: PERMISSIONS

My name is Thomas Regus. I’m a prisoner in two castles.

One was built by giant ants; one constructed of lies.

I had to escape both.

Yet my single option was such a long shot it almost made me chuckle.

Make Erica chatty!

Ogres, of course, are trained from birth – not for their chatty conversational skills, but to be the best bodyguards in the world.

THOOOM!

Erica, the best of the best, kicked wide my iron-braced doors. Before the hinges could rebound, she tromped into my private dining room.

Right on time!

My ogre loomed three metres tall, her body covered in chain mail, her noggin rounder than Lord Boron’s belly, her eyes suspicious slits. On her hips, swords, knives and ancient guns jiggled and clanked. In her massive right hand, she clutched her trusty crossbow. In her left, she balanced two uneven plates of steaming food.

I cracked my knuckles and pushed back my chair from the oaken dining table. ‘Reckon you can take me?’

Erica sighed.

I charged at her short sword, sheathed by her side. As I planned (and hoped), my bodyguard stepped aside. I lashed out with my greatest weapon. My right fist struck below her kneecap, just as she’d taught me. Erica didn’t flinch or make a sound, as was her ogre way. But I knew I’d hurt her. At least a bit. Maybe. I snatched a fork from the dining table, faked towards her belly and somersaulted between her legs.

My plan: to attack the lumbering ogre from behind!

‘Ha!’ I cried in triumph, followed immediately by, ‘Ow!’

Without spilling a pea, Erica scissored shut her legs, trapping me between barrel-thick calf muscles. She squeezed me like a nine-tenths empty toothpaste tube until my ribcage creaked.

I dropped my fork and squeaked, ‘I … surrender.’

‘Your face betrayed your somersault plan.’ Releasing me, Erica placed the plates on our table. ‘You must train your eyes to deceive.’

By the time I’d washed my hands, Erica had demolished her brick-thick hippocow steak and sampled every item on my plate.

Ignoring the medium-rare fumes that filled my mouth with saliva, I sat and cleared my throat. ‘Erica, you’ve guarded me since I wore nappies. Um, do you ever see me in a kind of … family-ish way?’

My bodyguard burped and formed her eyebrow-bunching frown of disapproval. Both were ogre specialties. ‘Your meal has not been poisoned, Prince. Or spat on.’

Mine was clearly a line of conversation she did not enjoy.

‘Old news.’ Ignoring my hunger, I pushed my plate aside. Direct attempt time. ‘What really happened that night ten years ago?’

‘I am not permitted to discuss–’

‘Heard it!’ I gripped the table to stay calm. ‘Lord Boron says you’re a monster who’s only loyal because he pays you so much money.’

‘Lord Boron knows ogres.’

I pretended her words didn’t sting. ‘Why’s money so important to you, anyway?’

‘I am an ogre.’

It was my turn to sigh – and change my attack angle. ‘Erica, may I visit my mother … please?’

‘Forbidden.’ Two bulge-muscled arms folded. ‘Lord Boron would not permit–’

‘Stuff Lord Boron!’ I jumped to my feet, clattering my chair. ‘I’m going to be king one day!’

‘Perhaps. If you survive that long.’

‘You’re not my bodyguard!’ I hurled my meal against the wall. The plate shattered, spraying dried peas. ‘You’re my jailer!’

More eyebrow-bunching.

I calmed myself a bit. ‘Okay, Miss Money-lover, how much would I have to pay you to let me visit Mother?’

Erica scowled with such ferocity, I recoiled. Had I pushed too far? Just as suddenly, with a twitch of an eye, my bodyguard growled, ‘How much do you hold?’

It took me several seconds to understand what had just happened. I smiled without humour. ‘I should’ve spoken to you years ago in the language of money.’

Erica did not return my smile. ‘I am an ogre.’

Odours of alchemy and mould-veined cheese lingered upon the hospital room like reeking wreaths of dust.

I crept to Mother’s side. Even in sleep, the muscles beneath her skin twanged randomly. When the nightmares invade, I wondered, does my face distort like that? I suppressed a crazy urge to hug Mother and never let go. Instead, with Erica and a goblin nurse looking on, I sat beside her bed and touched her bony hand.

Mother jerked awake. Her eyes stretched wide as if she had witnessed some invisible horror. ‘Albert?’ Her voice strained, the first time in months I’d heard it, shockingly dry and tiny. ‘Is that you?’

Hearing my father’s name, my heart pounded. ‘It’s me, Mother.’

‘R-Robbie?’

Hearing my brother’s name, my jaw clenched. ‘No, it’s –’

Before I could finish, Mother’s eyes flickered and closed like an ancient toy whose batteries had tumbled free.

I sat straighter and squeezed my eyes shut. Why couldn’t she stay awake for me? If only I could prove, somehow, I had the makings of a worthy king, maybe our family could be pieced back together again.

‘I’ll make everything better, Mother. I promise.’ Yet even as I spoke them, my words tasted hollow and metallic.

Erica tapped my shoulder.

I released my mother’s hand and followed my bodyguard into the corridor.

Like the rest of Castle Mount, my bedroom had been formed by the acid-spit of long dead monster ants. I slept inside a prison cell perfectly designed to evoke my flashback terrors. Come dawn, the air in my windowless sphere would be thick and my sheets glued to my skin with sweat. I itched to grab the stupid broom leaning against the wall and attack the annoying net of garlic cloves and holly leaves surrounding my bed.

A match struck behind me. Inhaling sulphur and burning wick, I didn’t need to turn to know Erica was at my dresser, dripping candle wax onto her palms and rolling two warm balls.

‘Why must we do this mumbo jumbo every night?’ I yanked the multi-coloured hat from my head and scrunched it in my fists.

Pumpkin-shaped and pumpkin-coloured, Erica’s face glowered. ‘Everything we do helps you survive.’

‘How?’

‘You know I am not permitted to tell you that.’

‘Stuff permission!’ My voice spiked. ‘I’m almost sixteen! How can I become king if no one tells me anything about anything?’

‘You know I’m not permi–’

‘Old news!’ I stomped to my cupboard, wrenched open a drawer, seized a handful of crown notes and flung them at the ogre’s feet. ‘How about these for permission slips!’

Muscles snapped to attention along Erica’s tree-trunk neck.

Had I pushed her too far?

The ogre blinked, strode to my bed and jabbed the stinky, brain-donking netting I hated so much. ‘Holly deters two-headed snakes called sisiutls. Garlic repels vampires.’

I froze at that last word. Still, Erica was actually telling me factoids! I had to ignore my fear and push for more, before the chatty wind changed!

‘What about this stupid noggin-cover?’ I fingered my crumpled bed-time hat. ‘Is it supposed to scare fashion monsters?’

Erica snatched my hat, straightened the brim and wedged it back on my head. ‘Your headpiece, from the mythical continent Africa, is the single known protection against wokolos.’

‘Wokolos?’ I pushed my luck. ‘Surely I paid for more than just stupid monster names.’

‘Yrrr,’ Erica grumbled. ‘Wokolos resemble human youngsters, but hold supernatural strength. They can see through walls, turn invisible and love torturing human children. Unless said children wear this headpiece.’

Heart pounding, I nodded casually, memorising every word. ‘And the rice pile outside my door? Is that for your midnight munchies?’

‘The rice deters flying blood-drinkers called azemans. Before they may enter your room, the death-eyed creatures are compelled to count the grains of rice. If they are still counting at sunrise, they die. And you survive.’

‘Wow, kids’ blood sure is a popular beverage.’ My head spun. ‘And the broom beside my bed? Is that your ogre transport?’

Erica ignored my attempted humour and continued in her monotone. ‘Brooms deter moras, the bringers of bad dreams.’ One shaggy ogre eyebrow arched. ‘The broom is also useful for cleaning princely mess.’

‘Was that a joke?’ I climbed onto my bed and balanced on my tippy-toes to look Erica in her left eye. ‘Did the world’s grimmest ogre just make a comeback?’

My bodyguard poked her candle-wax balls into my ears. Even muffled, her voice still boomed. ‘Without wax, vampire mosquitoes called alkuntanes might enter your ear, drill through your skull and suck out your brains. That is, if they can find any.’ Erica lowered me to the floor. ‘Now brush your teeth. Before plaque monsters gobble them.’

‘What?’ I shouted, backing out of the room. ‘My ears are waxed. Did you just say, Please kick my hairy ogre backside?’

Without even a flicker of a smile, Erica followed me and handed me my toothbrush. ‘Leave the bathroom door open.’

‘WHAT?’ I kicked the bathroom door shut and locked it. ‘Moronic monsters.’ I poked my tongue at the mirror. ‘Likely all just made up anyway.’ If only there was a window to climb through and escape. Of course, the black wall was impenetrable – lumpy yet smooth, as if formed from the dried, dark tears of the earth itself. ‘Moronic ant bathroom builders.’

The mirror rippled.

‘Hmm?’

Two pus-yellow hands jabbed through the glass.

Before I could scream, icy fingers seized my head, clamping shut my jaw. Crimson nails clawed my ears. My eyes welled with reeking flesh. I stabbed at the arms with my toothbrush. The nails bit deeper into my skin.

Beyond the rippling mirror, a scarred face leered.

‘Come … to Bloody Mary!’

I clutched the sink. But Mary’s grip was too powerful. I skidded towards the mirror.

The bathroom door splintered.

The face beyond the mirror hissed.

Erica’s short sword flashed, hacking at the yellow arms.

The hands released me. With a final slash across my cheek, they slurped backwards through the mirror.

Erica’s fist shattered the looking glass.

I swayed, stunned and gasping, dripping blood and toothpaste.

Erica scowled and wrenched open a cabinet door. ‘You are lucky.’ She tossed me a bottle of ti-tree oil. ‘Few humans, let alone children, survive an encounter with Mary.’

‘Yeah? And you’re unlucky,’ I answered squeakily. ‘To the tune of seven years!’

My double’s head rolled by, sparking and fizzling.

2: EDUCATIONS

Every so often, an unfamiliar, alien scent wafted in from the world beyond Castle Mount. My nostrils flared.

Right now, Erica’s pungency dominated: a heady combination of leather, sweat, oiled steel and hippocow mince. My bodyguard frowned beside me, letting me know for the fiftieth time that she was nowhere near the happiness neighbourhood.

I wasn’t supposed to be this close to the royal balcony. Public appearances were my robot double’s job. But since I’d discovered I could bribe my ogre, I felt morally obliged to do so for as long as my luck and crown notes lasted. Well, immorally obliged.

My latest payment had earned us a hiding spot in the curtained shadows behind the balcony’s anteroom. I strained to overhear Lord Boron whispering to his ogre bodyguard, Lars. Yet their words were drowned by the goblin mayor, strutting upon the balcony beyond, microphone in pudgy hand. I’d never been permitted to talk directly to Mayor Honesty Viethe, though after the operation that removed his brain and inserted it into a much larger (and younger) orc body, he was easily recognisable. Though the mayor had made himself almost as buff as Lars or Erica, his smirk (and taste for loud suits) remained unchanged.

‘Next!’ Mayor Viethe sneered over his microphone. ‘Monstro City’s own royal freak show. Eyeball ’em while they’re still not rissoles!’

Many hundreds of metres below, cackling rippled across the crowd. I tried to visualise the tens of thousands of monsters crammed into the Great Market Square, their inhuman eyes turned upwards. But I couldn’t. Even the sunlight out there was alien to me, known only through books and distant, filtered glimpses.

Mayor Viethe bowed to the crowd and strode through the anteroom, jabbing Lord Boron in the ribs as he passed.

Lord Boron spluttered.

The robot doubles of my mother and I stepped onto the balcony. Immaculately dressed in purple gowns, the robots waved and gave no speeches.

Mine looked kind of stupid.

The crowd muttered and–

BOOM!

The balcony exploded!

I staggered backwards into Erica’s legs. She wrapped an arm around my chest and dragged me backwards towards the corridor. My head twisted to and fro, my eyes boggling