Tomb of Brain Ooze #5

Prologue

The mummy entered the dank chamber and lit the torches one by one. The flickering light reflected off of the liquid that filled the jars, vats, and open Tupperware around the room.

“I’m baaaaaaaaaack!” growled the mummy, and something within each of the containers trembled. Ooze gushed out and splashed onto the sandy ground.

“I’m back, and I don’t have any time for chitchat,” said the mummy. He clapped his hands twice, and a fine white dust flew from his bandages. “We’ve got to get down to business straight away.”

Two figures appeared in the doorway that had been chiseled through a rock wall. They crouched down low to get through the doorway without harming their bird heads. Their beaks clicked as they bowed low to the mummy.

“Yes, yes, do come in,” he said. “Make it snappy— we’ve got a lot of prep work to do.”

The bird-heads went back through the doorway, and returned quickly with another mummy. This one was motionless as they carried it into the room. They bowed again and dropped it at the feet of the first mummy, who was alive and very impatient.

“All right, all right,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Enough ceremony. Stop bowing and give me the Blade of a Thousand and One Souls already!”

The bird-heads clicked their beaks in anger, but obeyed. One reached behind its back and unsheathed a long, curved blade that started narrow near the hilt and widened toward the point. Before the bird-head could bow and present it to the mummy, the mummy snatched it away.

“SQUAWK!” yelled the bird-head.

“Get outta here!” yelled the mummy in reply.

They held up their hands in protest, clicked their beaks, and hissed, but backed out.

Once they were gone, the mummy turned his attention back to the containers.

“Now . . . ,” he said, swinging the sword carelessly with one hand while searching around the chamber. “Where are you, Tutankhamen? Tonight your body shall burn to feed your brain.”

He strolled around, peering into jugs, lifting up the larger Tupperware containers and peering underneath, making sure not to spill the precious juices on his head.

Finally, he came to a laundry basket lined with a trash bag.

“Aha!”

He plunged his hand into the ooze and pulled out a pulsating brain.

“Tutankhamen!” he screeched. “I. Can’t. WAIT. To eat you!” He held the brain up high. “So young. So fresh. With the exception of our new visitors’, your brains will be the richest. Your brains will take me soooo many places—deep into so many minds!”

The brain squirted a purplish-black goo directly into the eyes of the mummy.

“WARGH!” he yelled, dropping the brain—SPLUNK—and the sword—CLANK.

He used the bandages on his hands to clean his eyes. Once he opened them again, he gasped and pointed at the brain.

“Nooooo!” he yelled. “Look what you’ve done to yourself.”

The brain was starting to disintegrate into the sand. The mummy picked it up, blew off all the sand that he could, and then plopped it back into the trash-bag-lined laundry basket with a PLOOOP.

“How dare you disobey your master on a night such as this?!” he yelled, picking up the sword. “Tonight of all nights! YOUR night. The night that has been thousands of years in the making. The night we will drive what’s left of your spirit from your body and back into your MIND!”

The angry mummy raised the sword high and brought it down onto the lifeless mummy in the sand. FWACK. The head rolled into a corner. FWACK, FWACK! No more arms. FWACK, FWACK!

“How does that feel, Tut?” screeched the mummy.

“Noooooooo!” yelled the dusty old head on the ground. “What you’re doing is wrong, and the spirits shall make you pay.”

“Zip it, Tut,” said the mummy. “I didn’t actually need you to answer. It was a rhetorical question!”

FWACK, FWACK, FWACK!!!

The mummy went on and on, until Tutankhamen’s body was just a pile of parts. He gathered up all of the parts and placed them in the center of the room. Then he grabbed Tutankhamen’s head and held it so that his eyes pointed at the pile.

“Take a good look!” said the mummy. “It will surely be your last.”

With his other hand, the mummy grabbed one of the torches from the wall and threw it on the pile.

SCHWWOOOOOF!

Tutankhamen’s body parts caught on fire almost immediately.

“Noooooooo,” screeched the head. The laundry basket began to bubble and froth in anger.

“AMAN-RA!” boomed the mummy, holding Tutankhamen’s head high.

An eerie purple glow filled the room. The flames danced around Tutankhamen’s parts like orange and purple snakes. The body crackled and snapped, and the pieces started folding into one another and sent sparks to the very top of the chamber. Then the sparks blew back down, hitting the liquid in the vats and containers with little hisses. Before the fire got too low, the mummy threw Tutankhamen’s head on the very top.

“Sizzle, sizzle!” the mummy yelled.

“You. Will. PAY!” said Tutankhamen’s head on top of the flaming pile, his mouth opening wide with a CRACKLE.

The mummy pulled out a vial from somewhere in his wrappings, popped out the stopper, took a mouthful, and blew the liquid over the burning pile.

“ANUBIS-DUN!” the mummy yelled.

There was a low moan, and then, POP-POP, both of Tutankhamen’s eyes exploded juicily.

The fire died down quickly, and with a POOF, a large cloud of purple and red sparks swirled, gathered, and tumbled into the laundry basket.

The mummy peered into the basket and, with a grin, said, “Yes. YESSS. Glow with your newfound powers. GLOW. And grow. I’ll be back to eat every last bit of you, you false king. You and all those who came before you. And after.”

A large scarab beetle scampered into the room and stopped at the feet of the mummy. The mummy raised his sword high once again and chopped off the scarab’s head. He leaned down, picked up the body, and tipped its oozing green fluid into his mouth.

SLLLLLUUUUUUUUURP!

He dropped the shell and sword and flexed his muscles.

“I am the only ruler now!” he yelled. “Now . . . who’s next?”

The Burpstronauts
Return

“So what was your favorite part of the trip?” Shane asked as Gordon and I looked through the small porthole of Murrayhotep’s spaceship.

The spaceship whirred and hummed with a deep throbbing BWOOOW-BWOOOW as it made its way to Earth.

“I think my favorite part was when the moon ate Zorflogg!” said Ben. “MUNCH, BURP, Earth saved!”

“And not a moment too soon,” said Shane, carefully high-fiving Ben so the zero gravity wouldn’t push them apart. “We were almost space junk. What about you, Chris? What was your favorite part?”

“Just being on the moon,” I replied, sighing. My breath pushed me away from the porthole.

“Don’t sigh too hard, Space Boy,” said Gordon, catching me before I floated all the way into the control panel. “If you crash into that control panel, we’ll all be lost. And I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to get home.”

I stared at the control panel, and absolutely nothing made sense to me.

“I’m still trying to figure out how a stinky, grumpy old mummy got his own spaceship,” said Nabila as she floated over to the control panel to take a closer look. “And something about these controls doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ben, floating toward her. He misfired and slammed his head against her butt.

“Wah?!!” she said.

“PDA! PDA!” yelled Gordon. “Quit it, you lovebirds. Just because you’re going out doesn’t mean we have to see your bizarre dating rituals.”

Nabila’s cheeks turned red as she tried to ignore an obviously grumpy Gordon.

“Well, these controls are labeled with a variation of hieroglyphic writing,” she continued, “but it seems to be fashioned in some sort of code.”

“Oh, I thought you were Little Miss Egyptian Know-It-All!” Gordon said, laughing.

“Stop it, Gordon,” Shane said.

I looked over at Gordon. “Just because I, yes, I, the nerdiest kid you know except for Ben, beat you at moon football doesn’t mean you can take it out on everyone else,” I said.

“Sorry,” said Gordon. “I miss real football, and I’m tired of missing so many practices, and I’m just . . . tired. Is there anywhere to take a nap on this thing?”

“We’re all exhausted,” I said. “But we’ll have plenty of time to sleep once we’re back on Earth.”

“Maybe we can ask Director Z and Lunch Lady to erase our parents’ minds for another week,” Shane added.

“That would be sweeeeeet,” said Gordon. “Don’t they have to listen to you now that you’re a Director?”

“The only people I can control with my pendant are the monsters,” I replied.

“Which reminds me,” said Gordon, “where is this pendant that you keep talking about?”

“It’s a secret I keep deep inside of me,” I said.

Shane snickered, knowing exactly where I kept the pendant.

Ben had finally rotated so he was face-to-face with Nabila, and the two of them stared at the controls.

“Director Z figured out how to work the ship,” said Ben. “I’m sure we can, as well.”

“But Director Z only figured out what one button did before sending us back to Earth,” Nabila said, and pointed to the tattered piece of tape above a big red button. AUTOPILOT was scribbled on the tape in huge black letters.

“Ah,” said Ben. “I see.”

“I’m going to see if I can crack the code,” she said.

Nabila whipped a notebook out of her fluorescent pink fanny pack without thinking about the lack of gravity. Plastic baggies, pencils, pens, erasers, even Ben’s motion-sickness pills spilled out, and everything flew around the bridge of Murrayhotep’s ship.

“Where’s the kitchen sink?” asked Shane.

“Don’t lose those pills, or I’m gonna lose my lunch,” said Ben.

“Yeah, get ’em,” I said. “Remember what happened on the way up to the moon?”

“I think I still have some of the chunks in my hair,” said Gordon. “Blech.”

We struggled to get everything that was floating around the slick black bridge, and Nabila stuffed it all back into her fanny pack.

“Now, what was I doing?” she asked.

“Decoding hieroglyphs,” said Ben as he handed Nabila a pencil.

“Aww, thanks, habibi,” replied Nabila. She giggled a little.

Shane clamped Gordon’s mouth shut before he could say anything.

“I wish I could tell other kids at school that I was actually there,” I said. “On the moon!”

“Which brings me to my favorite part,” Shane said. “I’m glad that I was able to see you on the moon. Chris Taylor, my best friend, on the moon—now that’s somethin’ special! My only regret is that I didn’t try out any karate moves as a vampire on the moon. What was I thinking?”

I stared dreamily at the blue planet as it crept closer into view.

“Hey, I wonder where Director Z and the monsters are,” I said, smooshing my face up against the glass to see if I could spot the other, Victorian-era spaceship.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” said Gordon. “That busted old ship is just perfect for transporting busted old monsters. I’ll take the modern comforts of Murrayhotep’s ship over that any day.”

“The monsters are actually not that busted or old anymore,” said Shane. “The moon juiced them up pretty good.”

“Maybe Director Z will let us keep this spaceship,” I said. “Once Nabila cracks the code, the universe is ours.”

“Yeah!” said Ben. “Let me just grab a ten-year supply of motion-sickness pills back home, and then I’m ready!”

“You guys do whatever you want, but drop me off first,” said Gordon. “We’ve been away for almost a week! Between the zero-g and monster-juice-drinking, my muscles are shrinking, and I’m no longer the greatest athlete in the history of Rio Vista Middle School.”

“Well, you won’t have to drink monster juice ever again,” said Ben. “That was a one-time-only deal. Too bad drinking it a second time would kill us. It was pretty awesome. The best cure for nausea I’ve ever had.”

Everyone nodded. Everyone but Gordon.

“Sure, it’s all just one nonstop monster party for you guys,” said Gordon. “But I still have killer indigestion.”

“Get ready to stop complaining, Gordon,” I said, turning away from the porthole. “We’re almost home! We should probably strap ourselves down or something.”

As we floated down to the chairs, the lights turned red in the cabin, and an alarm sounded.

“Hey, wait, what’s going on?” I yelled over the alarm.

A button on the massive control panel started blinking crazily. Nabila and I floated over to it.

“I know you haven’t had much time, but did you figure out any of this?” I asked.

“Barely,” she said. She looked back and forth from her notepad to the hieroglyph above the button. “Based on what I’ve worked out, this could be either ‘Space Door’ or ‘Monkey Pie.’”

“Something tells me it’s not ‘Monkey Pie,’” Ben said.

“You can never be sure with these types of things,” said Shane.

“So, ‘Space Door,’” Nabila said, ignoring Shane. “Assuming my previous translations are correct, of course.”

“Space Door . . . ,” I repeated, trying to figure out what it meant.

“Air lock!” she and I shouted at the same time.

The throbbing of the ship slowed down until it stopped.

The lights on the control panel flickered . . .

BLLLLRRRZZZZZP!

. . . and then went out.

“What’s going on?” Gordon asked.

“The air lock!” Nabila yelled. “Someone—or something—stopped the ship and opened the air lock!”

“WHAT?!” Gordon yelled. “To get into the ship?”

“Only one way to find out,” said Shane, and he headed to the back of the ship, where the air lock was located.

We all followed him. Halfway to the back of the ship all of the lights went out.

“Nooooooo!” screeched Nabila.

“Oof,” said Shane as I elbowed him in the eye.

“Sorry,” I said.

“What’s going on?” said Ben with a trembling voice.

With a great WHOOOSH, a dark figure flew past us toward the cabin.

“Who is it?” I asked. “Twenty-Three, are you playing a joke on us? Ha-ha-ha!”

In the pale blue light, I could see a figure floating over the controls. It was far too big to be Twenty-Three.

“Who is that?” asked Nabila.

Before I could figure out who or what it was, the portholes were sealed with a metallic SCRAAAAPE and an alarm sounded.

BIP, BOOP, BEEP!

Rockets fired, and we were pushed deep into the back of the ship.

“What’s going on?” said Gordon.

“Someone’s hijacked the ship!” I yelled. “And we’re heading to Earth fast!”

Now the BWOOOW-BWOOOW of the ship amped up into a SCREEEEEEEE as the ship hit the atmosphere.

“Hold on!” I said.

“To what?!” screeched Nabila.

“Something,” I yelled. “Anything!”

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—

BOOOOM!

Dank and Dark

The next thing I remember was waking up with my face in the sand.

“Blech!” I yelled, spitting the sand out of my mouth and trying to clear it away from my eyes so I could see.

“Shane?” I asked. “Gordon? Are we back on Paradise Island? Why is the beach so cold? This sand tastes like dog breath.”

I heaved a little as some of the sand went down the back of my throat.

HWWWWARF!

I held back my barf and opened my eyes . . .

It was pitch-black.

We were definitely not on Paradise Island.

“Guys?” I said.

There was an echo, and for a minute, all I could hear was my voice bouncing around.

“So I’m in a room filled with sand?” I asked out loud. “We’re in a room? Guys?!”

The silence was insane. I could hear my heartbeat throb through my body.

“I’ve got to keep calm,” I said. “I can’t freak out.”

Lifting up my head, and then my body, I stood in the cold sand. It was hard to stand up straight; I was so dizzy, and it was so dark.

I slowly raised my hand in front of me, but couldn’t even see it in front of my face.

Something pinched my arm.

“WAH!” I yelled, and jumped away from whatever was there, tumbling back down.

“It’s just me,” said Shane. “Sorry I scared you.”

Shane awkwardly helped me up. His sandy hand gripped my sandy arm. I couldn’t see him, but I pictured him as a huge sand monster. And I could hear him breathing loudly. I could even smell him . . . or was it the sand?

“I can’t believe I didn’t smell you there before,” I said, shocked.

“What?” he asked.

“Never mind,” I said. “Where are we? And how are we not on the ship anymore?”

“Maybe we are on the ship?” asked Shane. “It slammed into the Earth, cracked open, and filled with sand?”

“BLLLLLOOOOORRRGGPPPPHHH!”

“What’s that? A sand monster?” Shane asked, gripping my arm.

“I’m not a sand monster!” Gordon said, coughing. “But I did just barf up a mouthful of sand.”

“I’m glad I couldn’t see that,” I said.

“Oh, you guys are blind, too?” Gordon asked.

“Blind?!” I screeched. “Oh man . . . what if we’re blind?”

“Then we’ll learn how to drive a car like Ray Charles,” said Shane. “Cool.”

“Who has light?” I asked. “Did anyone’s phone survive the trip to the moon?”

“Nope,” said Gordon. “Where are Ben and Nabila? Where are we? Aw, man, we were supposed to be home already. I think I’m going to miss hockey tryouts. Arrrgh!”

“Ben?!” I yelled. “Nabila?”

My voice bounced around for a minute, and then there was nothing but the sound of our breathing.

“Get down and crawl around,” said Shane. “Maybe we’ll find them.”

The three of us got down on our hands and knees.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s all head out in opposite directions.”

We turned around awkwardly and began to crawl through the moist, smelly sand.

“This was easier when we had monsters who could see in the dark to guide us,” I said.

“Who knows,” said Shane. “There might be some monsters in here who can see in the dark.”

“Something tells me they won’t help us,” I said.

“Oh, I’ve got someone!” yelled Gordon.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Hold on, I’m feeling the face,” said Gordon. “Glasses. Thick. It’s Nabila. Nabila, wake up.”

Shane and I stopped while Gordon tried to wake up Nabila.

“Is she okay?” I asked. “Check for blood.”

“Ben might want to put his hands all over her,” said Gordon. “But I don’t.”

“What are you, six years old?” I said. “Don’t be all weird about it. At least check to see if she’s breathing.”

There was a long pause, and then Gordon said, “Yeah, she’s breathing!”

“All right, let’s find Ben,” I said, and we kept crawling ahead.

There was a dull thump.

“OW!” yelled Shane.

“What is it?” Gordon and I asked at the same time.

“I hit my head on a wall,” said Shane.

“Great!” I said. “I was worried this room would go on forever.”

“I don’t think it’s a room,” said Shane. “It feels like rock. I think we’re in a cave.”