Zackie has finally started using the obviously haunted typewriter, and every sentence he’s written has come true! It’s suddenly a dark and stormy night… his parents disappeared leaving him and Alex alone in the house… So I guess we’re at the “nah, I’m sure there’s a normal explanation for this and there’s no reason to reevaluate how our actions are contributing to the unfolding events” part of the scary story.
The Blob That Ate Everyone: Chapter 16
Case in point:
“He has to be here,” Alex insisted. “Why would he go out in this storm?”
“For ice cream?” I suggested. “He really wanted some ice cream.”
Alex frowned. “Your dad would go out in this storm to get a cup of ice cream? That’s impossible.”
“You don’t know my dad!” I replied.
I’m just staring at this exchange, trying to come up with something to say about it, but I have nothing. It is perfect. Never before have I read dialogue in a book for this blog that resonated with me so deeply.
Alex keeps looking through the house, but no dad. Zackie looks outside and sees his dad’s car. They start to put two and two together.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Zackie—what was the last sentence you typed?” she demanded, still squinting at me.
Zackie isn’t convinced.
“Then how else do you explain it?” Alex shot back.
“Explain it? A big rainstorm came up. That’s how I explain it.”
This is a really good point unless you’re in a scary story. It must be really hard to be in a scary story. You know, on top of the imminent possibility of death and all that.
Alex suggests they test her theory, Zackie types the next sentence from his story – “They heard a knock on the door” – and then guess what, they hear a knock on the door. See, my test would have been, like, “Also, I had $400 in my wallet”, but, sure, keep testing your new reality manipulation powers with the spooky shit, I guess.
Zackie goes to answer the door, because he’s a fucking idiot.
“No! Please—don’t open it!” Alex pleaded.
“I have to,” I told her. “We have to see who’s there.”
No one is at the door. Y’all got Goosebumps’d!
“But don’t you see?” she cried. “There was no one at the door because you didn’t write someone at the door!”
“AAAAAGGH!” I screamed. “Alex, please—give me a break. You don’t really believe that I am controlling everything that happens—do you?”
She twisted her face, thinking hard.
“No,” she finally replied.
“Good!” I exclaimed.
“I think the old typewriter is controlling everything,” she said.
Alex figures out the entire book. Zackie has an A+ retort to Alex’s crazy ideas.
“Maybe that’s why the woman in the burned-out shop gave you the typewriter,” she continued. “Maybe she knew it had strange powers. And she couldn’t wait to get rid of it.”
“I can’t wait to get rid of you!” I snapped.
Alex talks him into doing one more test, and Zackie writes that their friend Adam is on the front porch. Nothing happens, and Alex makes Zackie type that Adam knocked on the door. I love how pedantic the haunted typewriter is, you guys. It’s far and away my favorite character. Sorry, Zackie’s sad dad who’s obsessed with ice cream; you’re totally second against some real tough competition.
OH SHIT ADAM IS AT THE DOOR
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, feeling dazed myself.
His eyes wandered around the living room. “I’m not sure!” he exclaimed. “I—I know I came here for a reason. But I don’t remember what it is.”
“Zackie made you come here!” Alex declared.
Oh, great, now we have to convince another person the obviously haunted typewriter is really haunted.
“I know you want to pay me back, Zackie,” he said. “I know you want to pay me back for putting the mice in your locker. I know I embarrassed you in school.” He put a moist hand on my shoulder. “But there is no way I’m going to fall for a dumb story like that. No way.”
Zackie types that “The storm stopped suddenly. All was quiet. Too quiet.” to prove their story to Adam. I like how no one’s even thought about trying to un-disappear Zackie’s parents yet.
Adam backed away from the window. “See what?” he demanded. “Do I see that the rain has stopped? Yes. I see it.”
“But—but—” I pointed to the typewriter.
Adam laughed. “Have you both lost it?” he cried.
Whaaaaaat you mean he didn’t believe the weather thing? Noooooo
“No way,” Alex interrupted. “Go ahead. Type ADAM HAS TWO HEADS. If you do it, both of his heads won’t believe you!”
I had to think about that one.
OH MY GOD PLEASE GOOSEBUMPS PLEASE LET US HAVE THIS ONE
“No—! Adam—stop!” I shrieked.
He had his back turned to us. But I could see that he was leaning over the typewriter.
He was typing something onto the page!
“Adam—stop!” Alex and I both wailed. […]
He spun around, a wide grin on his face. “I’ve got to go!” he exclaimed. […] “So long, suckers!” he called
Wait, Adam, why are you leaving? If you don’t believe them, all you can get out of this is seeing their horrified reaction. Adam, you suck at pranks.
Although to be fair, Adam did cut to the case.
“Well? What did he type?” Alex asked impatiently.
“He—he—he—” I sputtered.
She grabbed the paper from my hand and read Adam’s sentence out loud:
“THE BLOB MONSTER HID IN ZACKIE’S BASEMENT, WAITING FOR FRESH MEAT.”
Oh man, I bet Zackie is gonna be terrified since he knows for certain that the blob monster is real now.
“What a jerk!” I cried.
“He ruined my story. Now I have to start it all over again.”
“Forget your story. What about the Blob Monster?” Alex cried.
“Huh?” A chill tightened the back of my neck. The sheet of paper slipped from my hand.
“Everything typed on the old typewriter comes true,” Alex murmured.
I was so upset about Adam ruining my story that I had forgotten!
HOW DID YOU FORGET? THAT’S ALL YOU’VE BEEN DOING FOR THIS ENTIRE POST.
“But there is no such thing as a Blob Monster,” I said finally. “I made it up. So how can a Blob Monster be hiding in my basement?”
Alex’s eyes flashed behind her glasses. “You’re right!” she cried. “They don’t exist! So… no problem!” She smiled.
And that’s how Zackie and Alex died.
We both turned to the door.
And heard the sound again. THUD THUD.
“Is it… is it coming from the b-b-b-?” I was so scared I was stuttering. […] “It’s coming up the stairs!” I cried. “Run!”
I heard another THUD-and the door crashed open.
Also Zackie has still not thought about how he made his dad stop existing. Classic Zackie.