By Lincoln Peirce
For lovers of the hilarious Diary of a Wimpy child sequence, the following comes the 8th novel within the New York Times bestselling sequence giant Nate.
BIG NATE IS BLASTING OFF!
Nate has a weigh down on Ruby. yet after his scrap with Randy Betancourt makes headlines within the Weekly Bugle, he is bought an issue manner worse than detention! Can Nate get better? and should the once a year dust Bowl be a blast . . . or a bust?
Meet colossal NATE, P.S. 38's coolest doodler and positively no longer the teacher's pet.
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Additional resources for Blast Off!
Dry. Without giving it a second thought, Sheldon stuck a hand into his pocket, pulled out the revolver, and fired at the officer. A dime-sized hole opened up between his shoulder blades. An inkblot of black liquid spread across the back of his shirt before erupting in a geyser of motor oil that sprayed back into Sheldon’s face. He pulled the trigger again. Another hole. More oil. The cop fell face forward onto the front seat. Backpedaling, Sheldon wiped the slick fluid from his face with one hand and kept the gun pointed at the cop with the other.
Something was moving. The dome light threw strange shadows on the interior, long and serpentine. Better to get this whole experience over with. Either way, I’m too tired to sit here guessing what’s in there. One . . Two . . Three . . He jumped up, pointing the revolver at the mass in the back seat while letting out what could be considered a war cry. It was a bit too high-pitched to sound intimidating, but it helped get him to his feet, all the same. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—” There were no oil-slick tentacles slapping against the upholstery, no metal clockwork crammed into necrotic tissue, no jagged teeth and, more importantly, no sign of an animated, combustible engine living inside a human host.
But the town found justice, didn’t it? They caught that ol’ drunk Iso-Oli Thompson, the one who used to drink up all the extra Sterno on hand. Well, they found him curled up behind a dumpster with blood all over his hands. ” A coughing spasm interrupted the conversation. Sheldon didn’t want to talk about this, not with a total stranger, and particularly not with this stranger. Besides, he knew the story all too well. He stepped back, intending to leave the porch, but the old man snatched a claw from underneath the blankets and grabbed hold of Sheldon’s arm.
Blast Off! by Lincoln Peirce