Night of the Living Gerbilby Elizabeth Levy, Bill Basso
Robert is worried. His pet gerbil, Exterminator, is lying on the bottom of his cage, not moving. A trip to the veterinarian's office doesn't help, and soon, Extermie is gone. Robert is so crushed that he can't even talk about it. It doesn't help that his bossy cousin Mabel keeps telling him how he should feel. Or that his older brother, Sam, can't seem to stop… See more details below
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Robert is worried. His pet gerbil, Exterminator, is lying on the bottom of his cage, not moving. A trip to the veterinarian's office doesn't help, and soon, Extermie is gone. Robert is so crushed that he can't even talk about it. It doesn't help that his bossy cousin Mabel keeps telling him how he should feel. Or that his older brother, Sam, can't seem to stop telling bad dead gerbil jokes.Things get even worse when Sam comes up with a plan to cheer Robert up a plan that involves a creepy store called Weird Science and its even weirder owner. And one dark stormy night, Sam and Robert find themselves right in the middle of ...the night of the living gerbil!
- Perfection Learning Corporation
- Publication date:
- Product dimensions:
- 5.10(w) x 7.60(h) x 0.50(d)
- Age Range:
- 7 - 10 Years
Read an Excerpt
Ready for the Real Exterminator
"Look at Extermie," shouted Robert to his brother, Sam, one Saturday morning. "I think there's something wrong with him."
Robert had two gerbils, Terminator and Exterminator called Termie and Extermie for short. Termie was playing on the wheel in their cage, making it go around and around. But Extermie was lying on the bottom of the cage, his little back legs splayed out behind him.
Robert picked up the cage and carried it to Sam's room to show him. Sam was busy on the computer. He barely looked up. "Maybe he's ready for the real exterminator," he joked. "You know the one who comes to the apartment and sprays for cockroaches. Maybe you tempted fate giving him that name."
"That's not funny," said Robert. He took Extermie out of the cage and stroked his head gently. Extermie just lay there. His little chest went up and down with each breath, but he didn't tickle Robert's palm with his claws like he usually did.
Robert carried Extermie over to Sam. "Do you really think it was a mistake to name him Exterminator?" he asked.
Sam finally looked up from the computer and stared at the gerbil cradled in his brother's hands. Extermie's eyes did look a little glassy. "Maybe we should show him to Mom,"
Sam suggested. He was starting to feel a little guilty about his joke.
Mrs. Bamford was sitting at the kitchen counter, surrounded by pieces of paper. "I need a science program!" she muttered without looking up. "It's got to be perfect."
Sam and Robert glanced at each other. Mrs. Bamford was in charge of cultural programs for Sam and Robert'sschool this year, and she was determined to do the best job ever. But her first two assemblies had not been great successes.
First, she had booked "To Be or Not to Be Shakespeare," an acting troupe that promised to perform one scene from each of Shakespeare's plays in a hilarious, fun-filled forty-five-minute assembly. Unfortunately, two hours after they started, the troupe hadn't even gotten to act one of Hamlet. Most of the kids were asleep. The ones who weren't were throwing spitballs at each other.
Then Mrs. Bamford had set up an author appearance. But the visiting author had just broken his leg, and he spent the entire assembly having kids write jokes on his cast. He also told a lot of jokes. At least some of them were about writing
"How do you begin a book about ducks?"
"With an intro-duck-tion."
"How does a book about zombies begin?"
"With a �dead-ication.'"
The kids had fun, but the teachers told Mrs. Bamford that they weren't sure it had been a true learning experience.
Now Mrs. Bamford had just enough money left from the Parent Teacher Organization to do one last program. She wanted it to be a good one and had decided that a science program was the way to go.
"Mom, Exterminator isn't feeling well," said Robert.
Mrs. Bamford peered at Robert's gerbil. "He does look a little peaked."
"He's sleeping a lot more than Termie, and I think he's losing weight," said Robert.
"Yup," said Sam. "Looks like he's ready for that last ride in the compactor chute to the sky."
"Shut up," said Robert, covering Extermie's ears. "You're upsetting him."
"He doesn't want to know what happens to New York City pets when they go belly up," teased Sam. "Remember what happened to Goldie?"
"I don't want to talk about Goldie," said Robert.
Goldie, Robert's first pet, had been a goldfish. He had ended up being flushed down the toilet. Sam was the one who had done the flushing.
"How about cute little Gravy Crockett?" asked Sam.
Gravy Crockett, Robert's second pet, had been a turtle. He had only lasted a few weeks.
And then he had died. Mrs. Bamford had wrapped him up and put him down the apartment's garbage chute to the basement compactor. It was a good thing it happened on a day that the garbage was picked up, as Mrs. Bamford pointed out.
Then Robert had gotten Terminator and Exterminator. He had had them for a whole six months so far, and they were his favorite pets of all. They were furry, sweet, and, despite their names, they never destroyed anything except a little bit of newspaper.
"Mom, I think we should take Extermie to the vet," said Robert.
Mrs. Bamford nodded. "We'll take a taxi. It'll be quicker."
Robert wrapped Extermie up in a clean towel and put him in his carrying case. Sam helped. He was feeling a little bad about the jokes he had made. Sometimes he just couldn't help himself. But he didn't want Extermie to die.
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