Zack & Zoey's Alien Apocalypse -or- Alien Busting Ninja Adventure Read online

Zack & Zoey's Alien Apocalypse

  Alien Busting Ninja Adventure

  by MJ Ware

  © 2012 by MJ Ware - Artwork by Powil

  Additional front matter and legal information.

  For Katie

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – To Serve Man

  Chapter 2 – Never Offer an Alien a Hand

  Chapter 3 – It's All Downhill After the Principal Messes His Pants

  Chapter 4 – My Guarantee Goes Down in One Giant Gulp

  Chapter 5 – Pudding and Punishment

  Chapter 6 – That's Snot Right

  Chapter 7 – The Umbrella Undoing

  Chapter 8 – When It Rains It Pours

  Chapter 9 – Grandpa Kicks Some Butt

  Chapter 10 – Belly of the Beast

  Chapter 11 – Bucket's Last Stand

  Chapter 12 – My Television Debut

  Chapter 13 – The Ugly Truth

  About the Author

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  Chapter 1 – To Serve Man

  Sure, you might have had a mean teacher or two, but I bet you've never had a teacher as mean, nasty, and terrible as Ms. Brass.

  "Class, settle down." Ms. Brass slapped her favorite ruler against her palm. "Anyone who doesn't sit—eyes forward, trap shut—will be locked in the closet and miss the Martian landing." She'd been teaching so long, I think she still remembered the good ol' days when she could use that ruler to smack kids on the knuckles for talking out of turn.

  "Ms. Brass, the aliens aren't from Mars." Sunny Rosa looked up from sorting her pencil collection. "They're from a planet orbiting Sirius, the Dog Star, which is actually a binary system. That means it has two suns. Except one of them—"

  "Shut up, Sunny." Ms. Brass slammed her ruler on Sunny's desk, sending pencils jumping for their lives. "It's not polite to correct your teacher."

 

  "Zack, the aliens are from the Dog Star!" Tommy Traddles yelled as if he wasn't sitting right in front of me. "They're Extra Terrierestrials." He was the only one who laughed.

  After locking Tommy in the closet, Ms. Brass led us to the auditorium.

  "I don't like this," whispered my best friend, Zoey Perrybingle.

  "What, why not? I mean, they've been transmitting peace messages for weeks," I said as we walked. "Plus, they just sent the cure for cancer and the common cold."

  "I still don't trust them. I mean, how can one cure work for both cancer and colds?"

  "I don't know." It did seem a little odd. Especially since the cure was to marinate overnight in a bath of onions and honey mustard sauce.

  I sat next to Zoey on the floor of the auditorium right as something flew overhead. Behind us, Susie Jo Sikes was shooting spit wads with the accuracy of heat-seeking missiles.

  "Eww, gross!" Zoey shrieked. "Give me your hat."

  "No way. This is my Giants World Series—"

  She ripped it from my head. "Where's your sense of chivalry?"

  "I think you've beaten it out of me."

  She glared at me, but broke into a smile when a glitter-coated paper airplane crashed in my hair.

  Amid the battle cries and flying shrapnel, the lights went down, and the projector lit up.

  On the screen, a huge flying saucer descended on the White House lawn. Everyone shut up real fast. The president, vice president, secretary of state, and a bunch of other self-important-looking people stood around nervously while the aliens floated out of their ship on beams of amber light.

  The aliens had big, bald heads and crazy, wide smiles. They were a pale shade of green and really fat, with slimy hands and tentacles instead of feet.

  Chapter 2 - Never Offer an Alien a Hand

  "I am Admiral Nact-bauk, commander of the Third Zaphod Fleet," said a big, particularly nasty-looking alien with a huge scar dripping down his forehead.

  "Did he just say his name was Admiral Nut-Bag?" I whispered to Zoey.

  "Shhh!"

  "On behalf of the People of Earth—" As the President spoke, dozens of photographers snapped pictures. "I would like to offer my hand in friendship." He thrust out his hand.

  "Don't mind if I do." An extra slimy alien bent over and chomped down on the President's hand. "Mmmm." Before anyone could react, he leaned in, un-hinged his jaw like a giant excavator scoop, and swallowed the President whole.

  "Delicious." The alien let out a massive burp.

  "Lieutenant Muck-tauk, you moron. You just ate their President." Admiral Nact-bauk smacked the belching alien upside his huge head.

  "He offered a hand, and it was so tasty, I couldn't help myself," Muck-tauk said sheepishly. "I saved their Secretary of State for you." He pointed at the trembling Secretary of State, who promptly fainted.

  "She's too ugly to eat. Besides, she smells like tentacle rot." Nact-bauk eyed the government officials, who seemed to be in shock. "This fat one smells pretty tasty, though." He reached for the vice president, who barely managed to jump and hide behind the Secret Service agents.

  Finally, one of the Secret Service guys pulled out a little machine gun. He quickly emptied the gun, firing at the nearest alien. Unfortunately, the aliens had some sort of invisible force field that blocked the bullets.

  That's all we got to see 'cause Principal Blathers pulled the plug on the video projector.

  "Don't be alarmed." He wiped sweat off his forehead. "I'm sure that wasn't what it looked like."

  "You mean aliens didn't eat the President?" some kid yelled. Susie Jo laughed, but I didn’t think the kid was trying to be funny. He sounded pretty freaked.

  "Well... um... I think..." The principal was greener than the aliens. "It's just... Oh, frickleflop." That's when Principal Blathers wet himself.

  Chapter 3 – It's All Downhill After the Principal Messes His Pants

  The teachers, in a state of semi-panic, began shooing us back to class.

  "Wow, I wish I'd caught that on my phone," I said, stepping over a pile of barf left by a kid with a weak stomach.

  "Zackary B. Weller, what’s the matter with you?" Zoey hit me with my own cap. "Aliens just ate the President, and you're upset you didn't snap a picture?"

  "Yeah, I suppose it would have been cooler if they'd eaten Hillary too, but hey, you can't have everything."

  "Sometimes your violent tendencies worry me."

  "My violent tendencies? I'm not the Central Valley Regional Karate Champ."

  "It was Shaolin Kung Fu and I don't take it anymore." She moved away and started brushing her long blond hair. "Besides, the martial arts are about self-defense, not killing people."

  She had a point. Zoey had never actually killed anyone. There was only the one maiming. But her mother made her quit after that, saying she wasn't going to deal with another broken arm—not hers, some kid she faced.

  As we headed back, I thought about what Zoey had said. Some kids were crying. One muttered incoherently to himself.

  "You're right, Zoey. Eating people is wrong. Even if they're politicians." I gazed down at the frayed ends of my shoelaces. "I guess I was trying to put a positive spin on it."

 

 

  "Forget it, Zack. That's not what worries me." Zoey sat at her desk. "It's the aliens. They're obviously here for some sort of extraterrestrial potluck."

  "Yeah, but how many people can they possibly eat? I mean one person must fill up an alien for a week."

  "Maybe, but the news said there are dozens, maybe even hundreds of those ships coming. That's an awful lot of freakishly big mouths to feed."r />
  Ms. Brass didn't seem to know what to do. At first she told us to read quietly. But when Toby Bucket started crying, she pulled out a lesson on the principle agricultural industry of Montana.

  "Hey, Toby." Carefully, I flicked a paper ninja star at his head. "You okay?"

  "They're coming for me," he said between sniffles. "I know it."

  "The aliens? Why do you think they're coming for you?"

  "Look at me. I'm the fattest kid in school. They'll eat me first."

  "You're not the fattest—" Oops, how many times had Mom told me it's never okay to lie to people? "They aren't coming here. They'll head to Weight Watchers or Ben and Jerry's and get the real fatties before eating little kids."

  "You think?"

  "I guarantee it." I smiled.

  We hadn't been back in class for more than thirty minutes before the fire bell rang. I hated that thing. Sure, it got us out of class, but it was so loud and would just ring and ring and ring. Even when we got outside, I couldn't stand the noise, and it wouldn't stop until it was darn good and ready.

  "That was really nice of you, what you said to Toby about fatties," Zoey said over the ringing. We walked with the rest of our class to the field. "That's why I don't dump you like everyone says I should."

  "That would be nice if we were a couple instead of just friends." Zoey was under the perpetual misconception that she was my girlfriend.

  "We're best friends and a couple." She tried to take my hand, but wasn't fast enough. I got it planted in my pocket before she could grab it.

  "You can't date your best friend. That's not how it works."

  "Don't make me hit you." Her hand balled into a fist. I probably outweighed Zoey by twenty pounds, but still decided it was best not to argue.

  Honestly, the whole girlfriend thing was sorta my fault. I'd kissed her way back in third grade—right on the lips even. I'd explained to her it was only to win a bet with Jack Bunsby. Five dollars. I'd even kiss my own mom for five dollars. After that, Zoey insisted we were a couple. I even offered to give her the fiver if she'd shut up about it. But if you asked her, we've been an item ever since.

  The whole school lined up on the field. Everything was going like we'd practiced twice a year, every year—until the spaceships showed up.

  Chapter 4 - My Guarantee Goes Down in One Giant Gulp

  It happened fast, really fast. One minute, we were staring at the school, hoping to spot smoke, and the next, we were running for our lives.

  "Not the library, please don't let it be the library," Sunny prayed while hugging one of her favorite books.

  "I hope the whole place—" I stopped when three huge flying saucers swooped down, and five or six aliens jumped out. They had these high-tech jetpacks on and were flying around like humming bees—except instead of buzzing, the packs belched thick flames.

  Before anyone knew what to do, beams of amber light shot out of the ships and started pulling kids up. It must have been some sort of tractor beam, 'cause no matter how they kicked and screamed, once caught in those beams, they just kept floating up toward the spacecraft.

  I took Zoey's hand and made for the nearest lunch table. Most of the teachers had disappeared, but a few were trying to fight off the aliens with protractors, history books, anything they had.

  The jetpack aliens were herding kids into the path of the light beams. Ms. Brass, armed only with her ruler, was taking whacks at any alien who got in range. "Leave my students alone!" she shouted. "If anyone's going to eat them, it'd better be me!"

  From beneath the table where Zoey and I had taken refuge, I realized what the aliens were doing. They were targeting the fat kids. For the most part, the skinny kids had all managed to run away. But the fatties were being picked off one by one.

  I felt helpless as I watched kids being slurped up by those beams.

  At least it’s over, I thought. The aliens were heading back to their ships when one seemed to spot something in the sandbox. Mostly covered with sand, it was a huge lump, and anyone with half a brain—even half an alien brain—could tell it was a kid. Not just any kid, it was Toby, the plumpest morsel on the playground.

  "Mmmmm," one of the aliens sang as he swooped down toward Toby.

  Toby rolled out of the way right as the alien, mouth completely open, smashed into a pile of sand. Toby jumped up and ran.

  "Toby, here, over here!" I waved.

  But several other aliens had spotted him and raced toward Toby as if he were the last eggroll at the All-You-Can-Eat Chinese Palace. I didn't know what to do. I looked around, desperate to help him. One table over was our P.E. teacher, Coach Greene. He was one of those coaches who acted all tough, claiming stuff like when he was our age he could do a hundred chin-ups, or calling us lazy little sissies. Yet, there he was, all six foot three, crying into his own shirt. Next to him sat a big bag of those cheap, rubber, dodge balls they pass out at recess.

  I don't know what came over me. Without thinking, I jumped up, ran over, and grabbed the bag of balls.

  I took a big one and hurled it at an alien. The ball bounced off his head.

  "Aahhh!" Toby yelled as another alien swooped down on him. When those alien monsters opened their mouths, they really opened them, like 180 degrees, completely unhinged opened.

  One had his mouth like that now, advancing on Toby, ready to scoop him up. Seconds before the alien reached him, I threw a ball as hard as I could, right in his mouth.

  The alien made a gagging sound and smacked down with enough force that the blacktop buckled beneath him.

  Toby's chubby little legs twitched back and forth like a pig in one of those races at the county fair. Three more aliens were hot on his oversized rear. I took another ball and lobbed it into the first one's mouth, then another into the next. I've never been very good at basketball, but for once, I was all net. The aliens choked on the balls and fell to the ground.

  Toby passed me right as the last alien, Admiral Nut-Bag himself, came into range. His wide-open mouth revealing rows and rows of sharp, pointed teeth. It was more a meat grinder than a mouth. I aimed my last ball and launched a perfect shot. Except this time, the alien was ready for it. Nut-Bag zagged to the left as the ball flew harmlessly by.

  Zoey had grabbed another ball, but it was too late. Admiral Nut-Bag flew right over me before either of us could get off a shot. Toby screamed, "Zack, HELP ME!" And then the admiral gulped him down in one bite.

  Two of the aliens rolled around on the ground, writhing in pain. They'd managed to regurgitate the balls, but were gasping for air.

  The other alien had almost finished barfing up enough sand to build a full-sized castle (a really disgusting, alien-mucus-covered sandcastle), and he seemed pretty ticked.

  Most of the kids had already retreated into the school building. Zoey clutched my hand, and we made it inside a few seconds later.

  Bob, the school custodian, locked the doors behind us, but there were tons of windows. All of the aliens flew straight for us. I was pretty sure we were hosed when, all of a sudden, they turned and headed straight up in the air. The aliens must have been called back to their ship, but not even the teachers were stupid enough to go outside and check.

  After that, the teachers made us hide under our desks for the rest of the day, saying it was practice for an earthquake. Ms. Brass even turned out the lights, so we couldn't see which desks were empty. My back to Toby’s desk, I turned and looked at Zoey.

  Zoey, with a tear in her eye, reached out her hand. I took it. For once, I wasn't going to pull away.

  We stayed under the desks until our parents could get there to pick us up. Every few minutes, Mrs. Rachel from the office would come, call out a couple of students’ names, and escort them up front to their waiting parents.

  Chapter 5 - Pudding and Punishment

  School was canceled for the next week or so. Unfortunately, we pretty much had no choice but to stay inside. Dad stopped by after making a trip for groceries and other supplies early one morning
, but he didn't bring much. Most places were closed or had run out of food.

  The aliens quickly wiped out most countries' militaries. The vice president—now the President—came on TV every night to assure us everything was all right and to go about business as usual. But, with Lieutenant Muck-tauk standing right behind him, it wasn't convincing.

  The news people said leading scientists tried to convince the aliens that the Japanese tasted better than Americans, because they ate a healthier diet with more fish. It worked for less than a week. The aliens quickly realized Americans were simply fatter and juicier than the people of other nations.

  Soon, laws were passed that required everyone to go to work—and school. We held recess inside and lined up in classrooms to wait for the buses. When they showed up, we ran to get on like frightened kindergarteners.

  Most people were too freaked out to talk about the aliens, but not Zoey and Sunny.

  "Sunny, you're a nerd, right?" Zoey said one afternoon on our way home.

  "Well, I wouldn't say I'm a nerd." Sunny got a glimmer in her big brown eyes; she was giving it serious thought. "I'd say I'm smarter than both you and Zack put together."

  "Okay, close enough—"

  "Throw in a dog too, or a pig. Pick any three. Either way, I'm more intelligent than the three of you."

  "Fine. You've got an oversized brain. Whatever." Zoey waved her hand, as if Sunny hadn't just put us in the same category as dogs and swine. "Answer this, then. Why aren't there any girl aliens?"

  "Because they're all at home doing laundry and cleaning and stuff." When it looked like Zoey and Sunny both wanted to deck me, I added, "I'm joking," then slumped down in my bus seat.