Creepella Von Cacklefur #6: Ride for Your Life! Read online

  ride for your

  life!

  I, Geronimo Stilton, have a

  lot of mouse friends, but none as

  spooky as my friend Creepella

  von CaCklefur! She is an

  enchanting and

  mysterious mouse with

  a pet bat named

  Bitewing. Creepella lives in a

  cemetery, sleeps in a marble sarcophagus, and drives

  a

  hearse. By night she is a special effects and set

  designer for

  scary films, and by day she’s studying

  to become a journalist! Her father, Boris von

  Cacklefur, runs the funeral home

  Fabumouse

  Funerals

  , and the von Cacklefur family owns the

  creepy Cacklefur Castle, which sits on top of a

  skull-shaped mountain in

  Mysterious Valley.

  YIKES! I’m a real ’fraidy

  mouse, but even I think

  Creepella and her family are

  awfully fascinating.

  I can’t wait for you to read

  this

  fa-mouse-ly funny and

  spectacularly spooky tale!

  Snip and Snap

  Troublemaking twins

  and expert spies.

  She loves spiders, and her

  pet is a gigantic tarantula

  named Dolores.

  Grandma Crypt

  A famous writer

  and friend of

  Creepella.

  Kafka

  The von Cacklefur

  family’s pet

  cockroach.

  Billy

  Squeakspeare

  An extremely mad

  scientist and an

  expert in Egyptian

  mummies.

  Creepella’s

  favorite niece.

  Shivereen

  A journalist who lives in

  Mysterious Valley and

  solves spooky cases with

  her inseparable pet

  bat, Bitewing.

  Creepella von

  Cacklefur

  Bitewing

  Grandpa

  Frankenstein

  Dolores

  Chef Stewrat

  The cook at Cacklefur

  Castle. He dreams

  of creating the

  ultimate stew.

  Creepella’s father, and

  the funeral director at

  Fabumouse Funerals.

  He was adopted and

  raised with love by

  the von Cacklefurs.

  Baby

  The butler to the von

  Cacklefur family, and a

  snob right down to the

  tips of his whiskers.

  The von

  Cacklefur family’s

  meat-eating

  guard plant.

  The mischievous

  ghost who haunts

  Cacklefur Castle.

  Booey the

  Poltergeist

  Boris von

  Cacklefur

  The family

  housekeeper. A

  ferocious were-canary

  nests in her hair.

  Madame

  LaTomb

  Chompers

  Boneham

  Scholastic Inc.

  ride for

  your life!

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright

  Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted,

  downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced

  into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any

  means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented,

  without the express written permission of the publisher. For information

  regarding permission, please contact Atlantyca S.p.A., Via Leopardi 8,

  20123 Milan, Italy; e-mail [email protected], www.atlantyca.com.

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-64660-4

  Copyright © 2011 Edizioni Piemme S.p.A., Corso Como 15, 20154

  Milan, Italy.

  International Rights © Atlantyca S.p.A.

  English translation © 2014 by Atlantyca S.p.A.

  GERONIMO STILTON names, characters, and related indicia are copy

  -

  right, trademark, and exclusive license of Atlantyca S.p.A. All rights

  reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Based on an original idea by Elisabetta Dami.

  www.geronimostilton.com

  Published by Scholastic Inc., 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered

  trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  Stilton is the name of a famous English cheese. It is a registered trade

  -

  mark of the Stilton Cheese Makers’ Association. For more information,

  go to www.stiltoncheese.com.

  Text by Geronimo Stilton

  Original title Brividi sull’ottovolante

  Cover by Giuseppe Ferrario (pencils and inks) and

  Giulia Zaffaroni (color)

  Illustrations by Danilo Barozzi (pencils and inks) and

  Giulia Zaffaroni (color)

  Graphics by Yuko Egusa

  Special thanks to Beth Dunfey

  Translated by Andrea Schaffer

  Interior design by Becky James

  First printing, August 2014

  It was a beautiful spring morning

  in New Mouse City. The sun felt nice and

  warm on my fur as I ambled over to the

  barber for a furcut.

  Oh, pardon me, I almost forgot to introduce

  myself! My name is Stilton, Geronimo

  Stilton, and I run The Rodent’s Gazette, the

  most famouse newspaper on Mouse Island.

  Anyway, as I was squeaking, that morning

  I looked at myself in the mirror and realized

  my whiskers needed a little trim. So

  I scurried over to see Harry Barberello, my

  furdresser.

  When I arrived, there was only one free

  Fear oF the

  BarBer

  seat in the waiting area. I took it and waited

  my turn. I sat

  a

  d

  miring

  Harry, who

  wielded his scissors so masterfully,

  he reminded me of a conductor with his

  baton.

  Every time he finished a new cut,

  he checked it with a critical

  eye and exclaimed:

  His skill with his shears reminded me of

  my last adventure in the Mysterious

  Valley

  , when I found myself

  snout-to-snout with —

  My thoughts were interrupted by a long,

  skinny paw creeping out from the magazine

  rack next to me.

  I shrieked, startled.

  Two wings appeared next. That’s when I

  realized it was Bitewing, my friend Creepella

  von Cacklefur’s pet bat.

  “Bitewing! Do you always have to scare

  the whiskers off me?” I muttered.

  He giggled and tossed some

  rolled-up sheets of paper

  at my snout.

  “Ouchie! Watch where

  you’re throwing things —

  tha
t hurt!” I whined.

  Bitewing just ignored me and fluttered

  toward the door.

  “What is this?” I called after him.

  “What kind of question is that? It’s

  Creepella’s newest novel, of course!”

  Bitewing called as he took flight.

  Harry still had a few clients to see before

  me. I had plenty of time to read Creepella’s

  new book.

  Ouchie!

  Publish it!

  When I turned to the first page, I realized

  it told the tale of the adventure I’d just been

  remembering. What a crazy coincidence!

  “Why don’t you read it aloud?” Harry

  asked me. “Then we can give Miss Creepella

  some feedback.”

  He didn’t have to ask me twice. I read the

  title:

  “It’s called ‘Ride For Your Life!’”

  “Absolutely fabumouse!” Harry said

  approvingly.

  Come on, read it!

  Okay!

  The last shadows of the night lingered

  over Squeakspeare Mansion. Geronimo

  had arrived in Mysterious Valley a few days

  before. He was hard at work on an enormouse

  No Sleep

  for You!

  encyclopedia that told

  the history of the mansion’s ghosts.

  He had promised Creepella he would edit

  it, and he was a mouse of his word.

  He was bent over his desk all night long.

  At the first light of dawn, Geronimo was

  too tired to work any longer. So were

  the mansion’s thirteen ghosts. Squeakspeare

  Mansion was their home, and it was their

  tradition to clean it from top to bottom at

  the stroke of midnight each night.

  Geronimo had just curled up in bed and

  closed his eyes when a little cough made

  him jump.

  “Wh-who . . . who’s there?” he cried,

  turning on the light.

  Squeakspeare Mansion’s butler ghost,

  Simon Snootysnout, glided toward him.

  “What’s up, Simon? Why are you still on

  your paws at this hour?”

  Geronimo asked.

  “My dear Mr. Stilton, I had just

  dozed off when there was a knock

  at the door,” Simon explained.

  Geronimo sighed. “Who would

  knock at this ridiculous hour?”

  Simon’s snout twisted into a grimace.

  “Three PESTS — I mean, three nice

  mouselets and their very peculiar pet. He

  left a thousand tiny little footprints all

  over the hall floor.”

  Geronimo had spent enough time in

  the Mysterious Valley to know exactly

  who Simon was squeaking about. “Moldy

  mozzarella! It’s the Rattenbaum triplets

  and their millipede, Ziggy.” He ducked

  his snout under the sheet. “Simon, just tell

  them I went to take a BATH in the Slimy

  Swamp . . . or better yet, to climb Scram

  Peak.”

  “Er, you mean Scream Peak, don’t

  you, sir?” the ghost asked politely.

  “It doesn’t matter where I went! Tell them

  whatever you want, as long as it makes them

  go away!” Geronimo replied.

  The butler shot through the wall.

  Geronimo breathed a sigh of relief when

  he heard the triplets’ automobile puffing

  away.

  “At last I can get some shut-eye!”

  He turned off the lights again, but as

  soon as his snout hit the pillow, someone

  dru

  m

  m

  e

  d on his forehead.

  “Send them away, Simon, tell them I left,”

  he muttered, rolling over with a loud snore.

  Whoever it was would not be so easily

  discouraged. The next thing Geronimo

  knew, his blankets were ripped out of his

  paws.

  “AAAAAHHHHH!” he squeaked.

  “What is it? An earthquake? A cat

  attack? A FIRE?”

  No. Just Creepella, smiling down at him.

  Next to her was her favorite niece, Shivereen.

  Behind them, Bitewing fluttered from one

  side of the room to the other.

  the bat yelled cheerfully.

  Wake up, lazyfur!

  “Wake up, lazyfur! It’s morning, and it’s a

  deliciously gloomy day with a chance of the

  loveliest little thunderstorm,” said

  Creepella.

  Geronimo closed his eyes. “Creepella,

  please let me sleep. I worked all night

  long. . . .” he moaned.

  But she wouldn’t listen to reason. “Don’t

  squeak, my little furface! There will be no

  sleep for you today. Don’t you know about

  the

  GRAND FAIR

  ?”

  Geronimo could tell from Creepella’s

  hyper-happy tone that any chance of a

  snooze was gone for good.

  “What fair?” he asked, stumbling to

  his paws.

  “I’ll explain everything on the way,”

  Creepella replied. “Come on, shake a

  tail

  , don’t be a snail!”

  Geronimo scrambled into the Turborapid

  3000

  , Creepella’s convertible hearse, as

  she kicked it into gear.

  “Where are we going?” he yawned.

  “To Gloomeria!” called Shivereen from

  the backseat. “That’s where the Grand Fair

  is held. You’ll see, everymouse who’s

  anymouse will be there!”

  “Exactly what fair are you squeaking

  about?” Geronimo moaned.

  “My dear little batnip, how can you be

  so poorly informed?” Creepella said.

  “Journalists like you are supposed to

  everYmouSe iS at

  the GraNd fair!

  know everything! We’re talking about the

  ANNUAL GHASTLY GRAND FAIR

  ,

  where the rodents of Gloomeria present the

  most horrible horrors each year. There

  will be fear galore, you’ll see!”

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” said Shivereen happily.

  “Ack!” Geronimo heaved a big sigh.

  “And here we are!” announced Creepella,

  pulling into an open parking space.

  A big

  banner

  hung

  over the entrance to the fair.

  Geronimo tried to scamper off, but

  Creepella pulled on his paw. “Why are you

  running away

  , my dearest?”

  “Because I s-suffer from fear-related

  symptoms

  ,” stuttered Geronimo.

  Creepella just laughed and dragged him

  along with her.

  Gloomeria had been transformed. Around

  them, mice of all ages were enjoying their

  favorite thrills. Some were

  shrieking

  with

  delicious terror, while others were sig

  h

  ing

  happily with horror.

  Creepella made her way through the

  crowd. “Come on, let’s check out the VON

  C

  aCklefur booth.”

  “Your family is here?” Geronimo asked.

  “Of course!” Shivereen replied
. “Didn’t I

  tell you that everymouse is here? Everymouse

  who loves a good

  scare

  , that is!”

  How horrible!

  Yikes!

  Boneham the butler greeted them with his

  usual snooty air. “Welcome, ladies!”

  Then he turned to Geronimo and sniffed.

  “Oh, you’re here, too. . . .”

  “Where is everyone?” asked Creepella.

  Boneham . “I am here to

  accompany you, miss.” He took her paw and

  led her through the crowd.

  Soon they reached their first stop.

  “Here is Chef Stewrat with his amazing

  Stinkerrific Stew,” Boneham announced.

  “The ingredients include extract of fetid

  socks, greasy napkins, putrid worm

  stock, essence of rancid trout, and the tears

  of gigantic leeches.”

  “My mouth is already watering with

  anticipation!” cheered Creepella.

  A few feet away were Snip and Snap with

  a shelf full of pranks.

  b

  o

  w

  e

  d

  “Hi, Auntie!” cried Snip. “Do you want to

  try our whisker-curler?”

  “No way,” replied Creepella briskly. “That

  is obviously no whisker-curler!”

  “Rotten rats’ teeth! You never fall for

  our tricks,” cried Snap.

  Next Boneham brought the group to

  Melodie Dramamouse’s booth, where Madame

  LaTomb and Howler, the ferocious werewolf

  canary who lived in her fur, were treating

  their audience to a few famouse opera arias.

  Madame LaTomb was singing her heart

  out:

  SNIP AND SNAP

  Stick-to-your-snout Caramel

  Paw-tripping Super String

  Ink-spitting Pens.

  Plus any other prank you can

  dream up

  !!!

  “May the wind be always at your tail!

  May you pounce on slugs and slimy snails!”

  “Bravo!”

  “Creepy!”

  All the spectators were enthusiastic . . .

  except Geronimo, that is. The musical tastes

  of Mysterious Valley were too strange for

  his ears!

  Bravo!

  The next booth belonged to Grandma Crypt,