another
Monster Blood adventure.
He had no idea that he was about to discover a whole new kind of Monster
Blood.
He had no idea that the green Monster Blood was silly kid stuff compared to
the Monster Blood he was about to find.
2
He was nearly to Kermit’s backyard, still thinking about Monster Blood, when
a dark shadow swept over him.
He raised his eyes. “Conan—!” he gasped.
A big hulk of a boy loomed in front of him, hands clenched into big fists,
blocking Evan’s path. He lived in the house behind Kermit’s.
His name was Conan Barber. But everyone called him Conan the Barbarian.
That’s because he was the biggest, meanest kid in Atlanta.
Conan placed the heel of his size-twelve sneaker on top of Evan’s shoe and
stomped down hard.
Evan yelped in pain. “Conan—why’d you do that?” he squealed.
“Do what?” Conan grunted. He narrowed his cold blue eyes at Evan.
“You—you crushed my foot!” Evan gasped.
“Accidents happen,” Conan replied. He snickered. Despite the winter cold, he
wore a gray muscle shirt and tight black spandex bike shorts. “Here. Let me fix it,” he
offered.
And he stomped down with all his might on Evan’s other shoe.
“Owwwwwww.” Evan took a few painful hops, holding his throbbing foot. “What’s
the big idea?”
“Breaking in my new sneakers,” Conan replied, snickering again.
Evan wanted to wipe the smile off Conan’s face. But how do you wipe the smile
off a kid who’s built like a Monster Truck ?
“I’ve got to go,” Evan said quietly. He picked up his suitcase and motioned
with his head toward Kermit’s house.
“Hey—!” Conan stared down at the ground. Then he raised his eyes to Evan.
“Not so fast. You got the bottoms of my sneakers dirty.”
“Excuse me?” Evan tried to step around Conan. But Conan blocked his path.
“Brand-new sneakers,” Conan grumbled. “And you got the bottoms dirty.”
“But—but—” Evan sputtered.
“Oh, well.” Conan sighed. “I’ll let you go this time.”
Evan’s heart pounded. He breathed a loud sigh of relief. “You will? You’ll
let me go?”
Conan nodded. He swept a beefy hand back through his wavy blond hair. “Yeah.
You caught me in a good mood. Get going.”
“Th-thanks,” Evan stammered.
Conan stepped aside. Evan started past him.
He stopped when he heard a high, shrill voice ring out: “Leave my cousin
alone!”
“Oh, noooo,” Evan moaned. He turned to see Kermit running across the grass.
“Leave Evan alone!” Kermit called. He waved a tiny fist at Conan. “Pick on
somebody your own size!”
“Kermit—stay out of this!” Evan shouted.
Kermit stepped up beside Evan. He was tiny and skinny. He had a pile of
white-blond hair, a serious face, and round black eyes behind red plastic-framed
glasses.
Standing next to Conan, he reminded Evan of a little ant. A bug that Conan
could easily crush with one tromp of his heavy-duty size twelves.
“Take a walk, Conan!” Kermit squeaked. “Give Evan a break!”
Conan’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “I was going to give Evan a
break,” he growled. “Until you came along. But now I guess I have to teach you
both a lesson.”
He turned and grabbed the front of Evan’s sweater.
3
“Evan—what happened to your sweater?” Aunt Dee demanded.
Evan set his suitcase down on the kitchen floor. “Well…”
The left sleeve of his new sweater was normal length. Conan had taken the
right sleeve and pulled it… pulled… pulled… until the sleeve dragged on
the ground.
“Mom made one sleeve a little too long,” Evan explained. He didn’t want to
tell his aunt about Conan.
Why look for trouble?
Conan promised that next time he’d pull Evan’s right arm until it fit the
sleeve!
“Evan picked a fight with Conan,” Kermit reported.
Aunt Dee’s mouth dropped open. “You shouldn’t start fights, Evan.”
Evan glared at Kermit. Why was the little creep always trying to
Monster Blood adventure.
He had no idea that he was about to discover a whole new kind of Monster
Blood.
He had no idea that the green Monster Blood was silly kid stuff compared to
the Monster Blood he was about to find.
2
He was nearly to Kermit’s backyard, still thinking about Monster Blood, when
a dark shadow swept over him.
He raised his eyes. “Conan—!” he gasped.
A big hulk of a boy loomed in front of him, hands clenched into big fists,
blocking Evan’s path. He lived in the house behind Kermit’s.
His name was Conan Barber. But everyone called him Conan the Barbarian.
That’s because he was the biggest, meanest kid in Atlanta.
Conan placed the heel of his size-twelve sneaker on top of Evan’s shoe and
stomped down hard.
Evan yelped in pain. “Conan—why’d you do that?” he squealed.
“Do what?” Conan grunted. He narrowed his cold blue eyes at Evan.
“You—you crushed my foot!” Evan gasped.
“Accidents happen,” Conan replied. He snickered. Despite the winter cold, he
wore a gray muscle shirt and tight black spandex bike shorts. “Here. Let me fix it,” he
offered.
And he stomped down with all his might on Evan’s other shoe.
“Owwwwwww.” Evan took a few painful hops, holding his throbbing foot. “What’s
the big idea?”
“Breaking in my new sneakers,” Conan replied, snickering again.
Evan wanted to wipe the smile off Conan’s face. But how do you wipe the smile
off a kid who’s built like a Monster Truck ?
“I’ve got to go,” Evan said quietly. He picked up his suitcase and motioned
with his head toward Kermit’s house.
“Hey—!” Conan stared down at the ground. Then he raised his eyes to Evan.
“Not so fast. You got the bottoms of my sneakers dirty.”
“Excuse me?” Evan tried to step around Conan. But Conan blocked his path.
“Brand-new sneakers,” Conan grumbled. “And you got the bottoms dirty.”
“But—but—” Evan sputtered.
“Oh, well.” Conan sighed. “I’ll let you go this time.”
Evan’s heart pounded. He breathed a loud sigh of relief. “You will? You’ll
let me go?”
Conan nodded. He swept a beefy hand back through his wavy blond hair. “Yeah.
You caught me in a good mood. Get going.”
“Th-thanks,” Evan stammered.
Conan stepped aside. Evan started past him.
He stopped when he heard a high, shrill voice ring out: “Leave my cousin
alone!”
“Oh, noooo,” Evan moaned. He turned to see Kermit running across the grass.
“Leave Evan alone!” Kermit called. He waved a tiny fist at Conan. “Pick on
somebody your own size!”
“Kermit—stay out of this!” Evan shouted.
Kermit stepped up beside Evan. He was tiny and skinny. He had a pile of
white-blond hair, a serious face, and round black eyes behind red plastic-framed
glasses.
Standing next to Conan, he reminded Evan of a little ant. A bug that Conan
could easily crush with one tromp of his heavy-duty size twelves.
“Take a walk, Conan!” Kermit squeaked. “Give Evan a break!”
Conan’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “I was going to give Evan a
break,” he growled. “Until you came along. But now I guess I have to teach you
both a lesson.”
He turned and grabbed the front of Evan’s sweater.
3
“Evan—what happened to your sweater?” Aunt Dee demanded.
Evan set his suitcase down on the kitchen floor. “Well…”
The left sleeve of his new sweater was normal length. Conan had taken the
right sleeve and pulled it… pulled… pulled… until the sleeve dragged on
the ground.
“Mom made one sleeve a little too long,” Evan explained. He didn’t want to
tell his aunt about Conan.
Why look for trouble?
Conan promised that next time he’d pull Evan’s right arm until it fit the
sleeve!
“Evan picked a fight with Conan,” Kermit reported.
Aunt Dee’s mouth dropped open. “You shouldn’t start fights, Evan.”
Evan glared at Kermit. Why was the little creep always trying to
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