“OH MY, LOOK AT THE TIME!” I said, pushing Grampa toward the door. “We gotta be going!”
“Wiley,” Grampa said angrily, “Drac was just about to show me his collection of ancient torture devices!”
“Trust me, Grampa,” I said as we moved into the hallway, “we need to get as far away from this place as possible.”
“Adios, Drac!” shouted Grampa. “We’ll see you at the tractor pull next Thursday!”
As we made our way down the main hall, we heard a strange sound behind us. We stopped and turned to find the Mudsucker speeding toward us!
“Your Gramma never lets me drive the Buick in the house like that,” complained Grampa.
And we ran…
through the corridors of the colosseum, past the tarantula burger stand, over Lil’ Buckaroo…
We ran all the way to the exit, where we found…
To our horror, there at the door was Gramma, and boy was she mad! Her anger meter was in the red, and we are talking redder than a sunburned lobster on a barn door!
“Well, Wiley, we made our beds and now we have to lie in ’em,” said Grampa. “It’s either the monster truck barreling toward us or the fiery anger of your Gramma. I’m seriously considering sticking with the truck.”
But Grampa came to his senses and we quickly got into Gramma’s car.
“HURRY, GRAMMA!” I pleaded.
“DON’T YOU HURRY ME!” she snapped back. “I’ll teach you to lie to your…”
