Phooey Kerflooey vs The Deep, Deep Dark

Chapter One

The Plagues Come for Phooey

Phooey Kerflooey circled the blanket fort, sniffing for danger.

She was only three months old, but that didn’t mean Phooey was small. Nope, Phooey was a thirty-four-pound Newfoundland puppy who was ready to help her boys with their fort!

Fuzzy blankets draped over four chairs made a cozy hiding place. Conner had wanted a double fort: a blanket fort inside their tree fort. Marcus was trying to make it safe for Conner and safe for Phooey, too.

Still, it was very high up.

Marcus had asked Conner to tie Phooey tight to keep her safe. Conner had tied her to a bag of chips. Phooey ate the chips and trundled out of the blanket fort. The empty bag rattled along behind as she sniffed.

She put her paws up on the tree fort railing and looked down, down, down.

Trees went on forever and ever. Lots of trees. The hills had trees, and the mountains had trees, then the mountains grew so high that the trees ended and the sharp, snowy rocks began.

Phooey saw stars twinkling in the sky. Off in the distance, lights from Camp Castle Pine shone warm and yellow against the darkness. Closer, lights from the house lit up the yard below.

The lights were nice. Phooey approved of lights.

Marcus and Conner had gone inside for snacks. Phooey approved of snacks.

They had left a long time ago. She whined. Had they forgotten their puppy princess? Did they want her to eat pinecones? Did they want her to sleep by herself without anyone to snuggle?

What about when the camp’s generator went off and all the light was gone?

Nia, the program director’s daughter, said the generator was a powerful engine that made electricity for Camp Castle Pine. Nia was also a princess, just like Phooey . . . only taller.

She wore pink beads in her braids, a pink tutu over her jeans, and always had sparkles. Sparkles painted on her nose, sparkles glittering on her favorite mad scientist eye protection goggles, sparkles in her shoelaces. Phooey approved of sparkles.

But sparkles wouldn’t keep the camp generator on all night. Captain Conundrum, the camp director, always let it rest overnight. The camp had a big stack of batteries that powered the lights for a few more hours, but they only lasted so long.

Phooey noticed there were lots of scary things in their new home. Lots of dark things. Phooey couldn’t sleep in the deep, deep dark without Conner’s flashlight making a happy glow. Phooey did not approve of the dark!

She paced back and forth and back again. Her big tail swept back and forth, too, knocking over the storybook Marcus had been reading and scattering Conner’s drawing pencils.

She picked up Dolly in her jaws. Dolly helped Phooey feel brave.

Phooey’s ears tipped at a scaredy angle. Even with Dolly, she didn’t feel very brave.

Maybe she needed more ear bows for when the generator turned off and the camp batteries died. Would ear bows make the darkness less scary?

Frogs and crickets sang from the meadow. An owl hooted. A fluttering shape darted across the moon. A bat!

Phooey was pretty sure she should be afraid of every one of these things.

Her tail stuck straight out behind her. The fur on her shoulders bristled. A low growl rumbled deep in her chest.

How would she fight all the forest animals that might come up the ramp to the tree fort without her extra ear bows?

All the bears and deer and porcupines would want to steal Dolly away. She had to block the ramp to their fort!

Phooey darted into the blanket fort and pushed the pillows with her snout.

Something creaked on the lowest ramp. Phooey’s fur bristled high. If she made a wall of pillows, none of the skunks or weasels would get in. She shoved the last pillow into place.

The entire pillow wall moved.

Something had crawled inside the fort—with her—in the dark!

With a yip, Phooey scrambled backward and fell out of the blanket fort. The boards of the tree fort were cold. Phooey flinched. What was trying to steal her fluffy, fluffy bed?

Marcus poked his head out of the blanket fort. “Hey, girl. I’ve double-checked the stats on blanket forts and I’m pretty sure this will be safe.”

He pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket, clicked on a flashlight, and showed Phooey. “See, it says ‘Dangers of Making a Blanket Fort Inside a Treefort: 1) too much fun. 2) mostly safe from mosquitoes, 3) falling out of the tree fort after tripping inside the blanket fort due to messy blankets and/or popcorn bags.’”

Phooey cringed. That didn’t sound safe at all!

“But don’t worry. I’ve tidied up and,” he held up a bag, “we have snacks!”

Phooey felt a rush of powerful bravery. Marcus and snacks! What could be better than that?

While Phooey crunched a baby carrot, a thump-thump followed by a rolling sound made her sneeze in alarm. Where had that come from? She crouched low, trembling.

Conner wheeled up the ramp into the tree fort. He was holding a bag of sweet, crunchy popcorn. Marcus and snacks! Conner and popcorn!

The very best things in all the land!

Phooey was a very brave girl. She scrambled inside the blanket fort and sat with a plop. She gave a little yip, just in case her boys had forgotten how she felt about popcorn.

Marcus helped Conner out of his chair. Both boys tumbled into a heap of pillows.

Her boys needed their puppy princess! Phooey launched over Conner’s back and landed with a thump, right beside the popcorn.

She poked the bag with her snout and looked up at her boys.

They looked back at her.

Phooey poked the bag again.

“Did you want some popcorn?” Marcus asked.

Phooey wagged and gave Marcus a doggy grin. Nose pokes were the best way to talk with her boys.

When Marcus poured popcorn in a little bowl, Phooey galloped forward for a nibble.

Conner was making another comic on his sketchpad. “OK, let’s do the next one.” He looked at Phooey. “Are you ready for ‘the darkness that could be felt’ and the Angel of Death?”

Phooey’s ears twitched. Darkness? Her tail sagged. Angels sounded nice, but an Angel of Death?

“It’s not actually the Angel of Death,” Marcus said. “God said the destroyer would come, but—”

“I already drew him, though. And look, Phooey really wants an Angel of Death!”

Phooey whimpered and hid her nose under her paws.

Conner held up his first drawing. It showed a murky red river with some frogs jumping out of the water and into someone’s backpack. Cows and donkeys had died by the riverbank.

The air was full of bugs: gnats, flies, and even grasshoppers. The guy with a cricket on his head and a frog on his shoulder was covered in red sores and hid under a raft while a hailstorm raged.

This story looked very scary, indeed!

Marcus read the story that went with Conner’s terrible picture from his notebook. He made his voice sound deep, like someone on the radio. “And even after all those terrible bugs and frogs and blood soup instead of water, pharaoh refused to let God’s people go.”

Marcus pointed at a guy on the next page. He wore a fancy hat with a snake and a bathrobe that had chariots all over the fabric. Despite the comfy bathrobe, he didn’t look friendly. He had just snatched candy from a crying baby and was telling a guard to toss a cute hamster into the river.

Phooey wasn’t sure if hamsters could swim. But even if they could, there were crocodiles in the river and a water skier was going way too fast to watch out for hamsters in the waves.

She shivered and cuddled closer to Marcus.

“Then,” Marcus made his voice sound soft but scary, “darkness filled the land. A darkness which could be felt.”

Phooey looked around. It was dark, but she couldn’t feel the darkness. Stars twinkled and the rumbling generator gave them power for the porch light that glowed down below.

“After pharaoh went back on his word, God sent the final plague. Death walked among the people.”

“God gave directions to stay safe: ‘Sacrifice a lamb and paint your door and I will pass over your house.’ God made a way to be safe as he fought Pharaoh. But many did not listen and saw death come to their door.”

“Weeping filled the land. Finally, Pharaoh let God’s people go.”

Phooey shivered. Her eyebrows rose higher and higher. What a scary story! This was too scary for children like Marcus and Conner. This was too scary even for brave princess puppies!

A cricket chirruped from the corner of their blanket fort.

Phooey sprang straight up into the air.

So did the cricket.

“Get it, Marcus!” Conner said.

Marcus made a dive for the singing bug. It leaped high again. Up, up, up and across the fort to land smack on top of Phooey’s head.

A cricket on her head, just like in that scary Bible story. Doomed. She was doomed!

Before she could howl the alarm, the generator at the camp coughed. It gave a grumble, then a wheeze.

Then the powerful motor, the one that ran all day long to bring them lights, simply died.

All the lights went out. Silence filled the night.

Phooey sat frozen. This couldn’t be happening! It was just a story. Yes, a true Bible story, but from a long time ago.

However, Phooey couldn’t deny what her eyes couldn’t see. It was completely dark. A darkness which could be felt.

The Angel of Death had killed the generator.

Another cricket sang out in the night. Oh, no! Locusts! More plagues! Then something plopped on her paw.

“My frog got loose,” Conner shouted. “I can’t find it in the dark.”

A frog! Plop, plop, plop. Something hopped on Phooey’s beautiful tail. She started shaking and couldn’t stop.

Crickets, frogs, and a darkness which could be felt! The Angel of Death had already killed the generator. But that was only the beginning.

A cricket had jumped on her and a frog had hopped on her, just like in Conner’s picture.

It was all horribly clear. She was next. The Angel of Death was coming for Phooey!