Ariel has decided, between the two options of A) ask obviously evil imposter grandma who has killed us a few times in different timelines what’s going on here, and B) wait until the meteor shower and check that out instead, that A seems like the amusing but decidedly incorrect move.
Wait and see seems like the best thing to do.
YEAH, NO SHIT, ME.
I double-check the newspaper to find when the meteor shower is supposed to start, so that we can go somewhere else for our safety and come back in the evening, which is truly the smartest thing I’ve done in this book thus far. My fallen selves in alternate timelines look on stupidly in awe of my newfound survival instincts.
When we return to the rose garden that evening, I confidently assert “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for everything” just before the ground begins to rumble, meteors shoot across the sky, and Grandma appears in the middle of the rose garden and pulls off her face.
you can’t tear your eyes away. Grandma’s new face oozes and bubbles. A single yellow eye blinks in the center of her forehead. Her thick purple tail thrashes wildly.
Surrounding her are dozens of purple pulsating eggs. The vibrations from the eggs make the ground shake.
Grandma lets out a bone-chilling howl.
Immediately, all the eggs burst open!
I like how we’ve died so many times already that this big reveal isn’t even a surprise anymore. Like, I get it, my grandma is an alien. Get on with it.
You stay low, too terrified to move. […]
Grandma still hasn’t seen you.
This might be the scariest Goosebumps yet just because every time I’m waiting to see if I’m going to die or not, I really do feel completely powerless, trapped in a world I don’t understand, where the only thing I know is my sense of dread as I wait to see if this is the time I’m supposed to find out my Grandma is a murderous alien.
“My children,” she addresses [the alien babies]. “We have traveled to this galaxy to take over this world. You know what you must do. First, feed and grow. Next, fit yourselves out with human body parts.” She holds up one of the rubber masks that you saw in her room earlier. “And then,” she finishes with a hideous cackle, “go forth and carry out the Master Plan!”
In the face of such a large-scale danger threatening all life on earth, Andrew has a preciously sensible reaction:
“Let’s go tell my parents,” Andrew urges. “We need help!”
Sophie, I would argue, does not:
“We’ve got to stop them! Do you think we can fight them right here?”
It’s choice time. Here’s my thought process. In favor of Sophie’s plan: adult characters have never been useful in the children’s horror series Goosebumps. In favor of Andrew’s plan: it seems like the course of action that would draw out the narrative and stall the conflict. So it’s gotta be Andrew’s plan, right? R.L. Stine’s got pages to fill!
Ariel, tell Andrew’s parents that our grandma is an alien about to embark on a worldwide killing spree with her newly hatched babies on page… okay, you know what? I am hearing the problem with this plan now. Ariel, I changed my mind. Turn to page 88 to initiate a human children vs alien babies fight to the death.
