Chapter Eight
The Golden Torch

At 8:03 a.m. on October 1, Principal Headcrusher’s voice sounded through the PA system of Scary School. “I have just received a surprise visit from the gracious chairman of the Ghoul Games, Mr. Franz Dietrich Wolfbark. He has informed me that the traditional running of the Ghoul Games torch will begin this afternoon at the front entrance of the school. Following lunch, everyone is to gather at Scary Fountain, where one lucky student will carry the torch and hand it to the one and only Frankenstein. Frankenstein will start the torch’s journey all around the world before it arrives back here for the start of the Ghoul Games this spring. That is all.”

After the loudspeaker crackled off, Wendy raised her hand. “Ms. Fang, how will they choose which student gets to pass the torch to Frankenstein?”

“Well,” replied Ms. Fang, “back when I was a young girl of three hundred sixteen years at Bloodington Elementary, they had a contest to see who could suck all the blood out of a troll the fastest. But I doubt they will do that with you. The troll would smash you before you could get close enough. It wouldn’t even be fair.”

All the students gulped.

After lunch, everyone ran to Scary Fountain at the front entrance of the school. They still didn’t know who would be the one to hand off the torch to Frankenstein.

There was so much excitement, even Archie the giant squid raised his ten-foot eyeball out of the murky moat to witness the event.

“Look!” shouted Mr. Spider-Eyes, pointing to the sky.

High in the air, Franz Dietrich Wolfbark was riding on the back of a ferocious-looking gargoyle. He held up a golden, unlit torch. From across the street atop Goblin Hill, a goblin band was trying to play a song of triumph for him, but their instruments were completely out of tune and none of them played very well. Everyone covered their ears and tried to imagine something much better playing.

The gargoyle landed and Mr. Wolfbark hopped off. The students recoiled at his sunken, skeletal face and drab gray suit; but then he held up the Golden Torch, and as it shimmered in the sunlight, the crowd cheered and whistled. The gargoyle stepped in front of Wolfbark and bowed, basking in the applause. Mr. Wolfbark hit the gargoyle on the head with the Golden Torch.

“Ouchers!” yelped the gargoyle.

“Stop hogging the spotlight, filthy gargoyle!” Mr. Wolfbark barked. “Fly back to your perch.”

The gargoyle slumped over and muttered, “I hate my life.” Then he flew back to his perch atop Petrified Pavilion.

“Good afternoon, students of Scary School. I am Franz Dietrich Wolfbark, the chairman of this year’s Ghoul Games.”

Mr. Wolfbark paused as if expecting more applause, but nobody clapped because they were sick of doing it by that point.

Wolfbark continued, “Yes, well, to explain how this works, once the Golden Torch is lit, one lucky student will carry it across the yard to our very special guest . . . the one . . . the only . . . Frank N. Stein!”

At that moment, a donut-shaped car sputtered its way down the street and pulled onto the side curb. The door opened, and a short man in a button-down shirt and high-waisted trousers stepped out. It was the closest thing he had in his closet to a jogging suit. He was pudgy and middle-aged, with thick glasses and a balding head of frizzy brown hair.

“Hello, children!” the man said. “My name is Frank N. Stein. I own Frank N. Stein’s Donut Shop on the other side of town. You’ve probably never seen it. It’s in a terrible location next to an abandoned gas station.”

The students were all getting anxious and starting to grumble.

“Hey!” exclaimed Ramon. “Where’s Frankenstein? I thought we were going to see the Frankenstein monster!”

“Such a smart kid!” proclaimed Frank N. Stein. “But if you’d actually read the book Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, you would know that Frankenstein is not the name of the monster, it’s the name of the monster’s creator, Dr. Frankenstein. The monster is referred to simply as ‘the monster.’ Mary Shelley was not good with names.”

“Aaaaw phooey!” all the kids groaned in frustration, realizing they weren’t going to get to see the real Frankenstein monster.

“But,” continued Frank N. Stein, “the good news is that the original Dr. Frankenstein was in fact a distant relative of mine. He left me the secret instructions on how to make a patented Frankenstein monster, so I spent last weekend digging up graves, sewing together old body parts, and bringing an abomination of nature to life. And what do you know, it worked! I made a patented Frankenstein monster just for you! I named it Murray.”

All the kids cheered, “Yaaaaay! Where is it?”

“Where is it? What a great question! Who knows? As soon as it came to life, it kicked me in the groin and ran off. I’m pretty sure it’s been trudging through nearby villages wreaking havoc.”

Mr. Wolfbark stepped in. “Isn’t he great, folks? Now, normally we would have each student fight a troll to the death to determine who would carry the torch to the amazing Frank N. Stein over here, but unfortunately you humans are too weak for it to be a fair fight, so instead we chose the student with the highest grades. That student is . . .”

From atop Goblin Hill, a goblin played a drum roll.

“Cindy Chan. Congratulations.”

Everyone was silent except for one burst of clapping and cheering from Charles Nukid. Nobody else in the school knew who Cindy Chan was. Aside from Charles, all the other kids in her class had been eaten by Dr. Dragonbreath, and she never dared even look at anyone else in the school for fear of breaking Dr. Dragonbreath’s Rule Number Three.

Cindy Chan managed a slight smile as she stepped forward and was handed the Golden Torch by Mr. Wolfbark.

“Hold the torch skyward, Cindy,” whispered Wolfbark.

As she did so, Dr. Dragonbreath swooped over the crowd and blew a jet of fire across the yard, officially lighting the Golden Torch.

Everyone cheered.

“Now Cindy,” whispered Wolfbark, “bring the torch over to Frank N. Stein so we can get this over with.”

“Yes, sir,” said Cindy. “I’ll twy my best.” Cindy carefully began walking, making sure she didn’t ruin the moment by tripping and dropping the torch.

That was when the ground started shaking. In the distance, a rumbling was heard that became louder and louder. Everyone was getting scared and looking around nervously. Soon, the great rumbling seemed right on top of them, and the cause of the rumbling was revealed. . . .

It was a mob of people. They were carrying torches, raising pitchforks, screaming, “Kill the monster! Kill the monster!”

Ahead of the mob, Frank N. Stein’s monster was running for its life, trying its best to move quickly despite having legs of different sizes, a torso that was rotted away, and arms it had no control over. They were flailing about and continuously hitting the monster in the face.

Cindy was just thirty feet away from Frank N. Stein when the monster charged past her, holding something to its ear, followed closely by the angry mob still chanting, “Kill the monster!”

Frank N. Stein stepped in front of the mob, bringing everyone to halt.

“Stop this!” demanded Frank N. Stein. “This is my monster. I made it. What’s all this fuss about?”

“It’s hideous!” shouted a villager.

“Okay, okay, it’s not as pretty as a jelly donut, but is being ugly such a crime?”

“Yes!” shouted Lindsey from the crowd of students.

“Feh! Then I should have been locked up ages ago!” replied Frank N. Stein, to waves of laughter.

Another villager piped up, “It somehow got ahold of a cell phone and goes into our movie theaters and talks straight through every movie!”

“Is that true, Murray?” asked Frank N. Stein.

The monster did not respond because it was busy talking on its cell phone.

“Okay,” said Frank N. Stein, “that’s just plain rude. Go ahead and kill it. I’ll make one with better manners next time.”

Frank N. Stein stepped out of the way, and the chase was back on. The monster ran for its life (while still talking on the phone) as the angry villagers followed behind.

Unfortunately, one of the villagers who didn’t have a torch grabbed the Golden Torch out of Cindy’s hand as they ran by. With all the commotion, nobody noticed the Golden Torch was missing from Cindy’s hand until the mob was far in the distance.

“Where did the Golden Torch go?” exclaimed a furious Mr. Wolfbark.

“One . . . one . . . one of the viwagers took it,” squeaked Cindy. “I’m vewy, vewy sowwy.”

“Well, that’s just great,” said Wolfbark. “Why do I even try to do anything nice for you humans when you consistently mess everything up? That’s it. There will be no torch running this year.”

“Aaaaw,” moaned the crowd.

“Don’t aaaaw me! I have no human feelings of pity. This event is over! Useless humans, this is probably the last time you’ll see me before the start of the Ghoul Games this spring. The monsters all over the world are going to be terribly upset that they didn’t get to run with the Golden Torch and will no doubt take out their anger on all of you during the Ghoul Games. So remember, no matter how much you practice, you stand no chance of beating the monsters from the other schools and you will be eaten as soon as you lose. I advise you to make the most of your final days.”

Jerry the gargoyle flew over to Mr. Wolfbark, who climbed on top of his back. They lifted off into the sky without even saying good-bye.

Frank N. Stein was still standing there, looking quite saddened. “Welp, I guess I trained all year for nothing. I suppose I’ll go home and feed my cat. If she doesn’t get fed by four o’clock she pees everywhere. Here, take these flyers for my donut shop and drop in sometime.”

Every student took a flyer that read, “FRANK N. STEIN’S DONUT SHOP: CHEWY, DELICIOUS DONUTS AND HORRIBLE ABOMINATIONS OF NATURE MADE FRESH DAILY.”

As Mr. Wolfbark flew off on the gargoyle, and Frank N. Stein’s donut car sputtered away, and the kids walked back to class, the goblin band played a terrible song that sounded like a herd of elephants drowning in a tar pit.

Frank (not Frank N. Stein, but the Frank that is pronounced “Rachel”) said to Petunia, “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get eaten by a monster at the Ghoul Games so I wouldn’t have to see scenes like this ever again.”