The Attack of the Aqua Apes by R.L. Stine

1

    â€œY ou have the power to create life!” That was what the ad in the back of the comic book claimed.
    â€œPretty cool,” Scott Adams said as he studied the ad carefully.
    Scott sat on the porch steps in front of his house, reading comic books with his best friend, Glen Brody.
    â€œCheck this out!” Scott handed Glen the ad. It showed a picture of a mad scientist. He was peering into a giant tank of water full of strange-looking creatures. Creatures called “aqua apes.”
    â€œÂ â€˜Aqua apes?’ ” Glen laughed. He pulled off his glasses and polished them on his flannel shirt. “What are those? Swimming monkeys?”
    â€œI don’t know.” Scott shrugged. “They look more like lizards to me.”
    â€œWell, what are you supposed to do with them?” Glen asked.
    â€œYou grow ’em. That’s what’s so cool. They come from magic crystals. See?” Scott pointed to the packet of magic crystals in the mad scientist’s hand.
    â€œOh, right.” Glen rolled his eyes. “Swimming monkeys from magic crystals. I don’t think so.”
    â€œYeah, well, they say it’s guaranteed. Or you get your money back,” Scott said. “They wouldn’t say that if it didn’t work.”
    â€œMaybe.” Glen didn’t sound convinced.
    â€œYou want to send away for them?” Scott asked.
    â€œNo way,” Glen replied.
    â€œCome on. What have we got to lose?”
    â€œThree dollars and ninety-five cents,” Glen answered. “Plus postage and handling.”
    Scott knew it would be hard to convince Glen to spend the money—but he had to. You see, almost all the kids in school could tell creepy stories—stories about totally weird things thathappened to them. Like being chased by ghosts in the Fear Street Cemetery. Or getting attacked by half-human, half-animal creatures in the Fear Street Woods.
    But Scott didn’t have a single story to tell. Not one. Which, when you think of it, was the weirdest thing of all. Because everyone knew that if you lived near Fear Street, scary things happened to you. Period.
    But Scott had lived near Fear Street his entire life. And he didn’t have a single creepy story to tell.
    Until—maybe now. If he could just convince Glen to send away for the magic crystals. . . .
    â€œSuch a small price to pay for ‘the power to create life.’ 𔄭 Scott repeated the ad’s promise in his best mad scientist voice. He wished he looked more like a mad scientist. It was hard to be really scary with blond hair, blue eyes, and freckles.
    â€œForget it,” Glen declared. “First of all, I’ve never seen a swimming monkey. Not even in the zoo. And second of all, it’s impossible to grow a living animal from a ‘magic crystal.’ In case nobody told you this yet, you need a mommy monkey and a daddy monkey to get a baby monkey.”
    â€œThey’re not monkeys!” Scott protested.“They’re . . .” Scott struggled to come up with an answer. “They’re . . . something else.”
    â€œYeah, apes. Aqua apes.” Glen pointed to the words. “Same thing as swimming monkeys.”
    â€œWell, I’m getting them,” Scott insisted, grabbing the comic book out of Glen’s hands.
    â€œSo get ’em,” Glen answered. He shoved his curly brown hair off his forehead.
    â€œI will,” Scott assured him. “As soon as you lend me some money.”
    â€œI’m not paying for some stupid water monkeys. You’re the one who wants them.”
    â€œI’m not asking you to pay for them. Just the postage and the handling,” Scott said. “And I wouldn’t even ask you for that. But you did eat up half of my allowance yesterday at the Ice Cream Castle. Remember—your sundae to celebrate the last day of summer vacation?”
    â€œOkay. Okay,”