Secret Agent Disco Dancer: The Zombies Ate My Pizza E-Book

Scott Gordon

• Herausgeber: Publisher s21000
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

When BARTHOLOMEW BUNDT receives a new house for Christmas, he's overjoyed. The timing couldn't be more perfect, thanks to a certain crazy frog and his explosive appetite for monster pizza. But when Bartholomew realizes that his new house is built near reactor four in the old Chernobyl nuclear power plant, his skin begins to crawl.

Of course, that's not the only thing crawling around there.

"Hello?" his voice echoes through the cruel Siberian night. "Eh... It's probably just the neighbors again." He scratches his behind and walks back inside. "You know, I really should have them over for dinner." He smirks and goes back to bed.

Certainly before they have him for dinner...

Approximately 14,000 words. Intended for children 13 and up. Descriptions of my other popular children's books are included after the main feature (an additional 5 pages).

Leseprobe

Secret Agent Disco Dancer

My Crazy Pet Frog Reading Order

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Green Eggs and a Side of Earnest Bacon

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Double Agent Orangegrove

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Was It The Lobster Bisque?

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: The Last Ding Dong on Earth

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Did Somebody Say Pizza?

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Frosted Flake

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Was It The Tira Misu?

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Burger Blues

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Government Issue (Coming Soon!)

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: You Don't Know Jack

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Soccer Star

My Crazy Pet Frog: I Gave My Pizza A Spanking

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Santa's Super Helpers

My Crazy Pet Frog: The Nightmare Pizza Before Christmas

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: The Zombies Ate My Pizza

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Taco Tuesday

My Crazy Pet Frog (The original picture book!)

My Crazy Pet Frog: A Novelette

Collections

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Greatest Hits Vol. 1

Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Grand Slam

© 2020 Scott Gordon. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form (electronic, mechanical or otherwise) without the express written consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

E-book layout, formatting and design by Scott Gordon.

Written, edited and produced in the United States of America. Scott Gordon is proud to represent beautiful Orlando, Florida.

Image(s) licensed by DepositPhotos.com and © Julien Tromeur (zombie illustrations). Additional black and white illustration(s) by Alfredo Intoci. Extended licenses provided by Dreamstime Stock Photos and Deposit Photos.

First Edition (v1.0)

Published on February 28, 2020

Table of Contents

Title Page

Also by Scott Gordon

Copyright

Dedication

Cast

Chapter 1: Pitstsa

Chapter 2: Pitstsa’s da Bomb!

Chapter 3: Second Coming

Chapter 4: Snicker If You Must

Chapter 5: Russian Fireworks

Chapter 6: Take Out King

Chapter 7: Sharp Objects

Chapter 8: Fish Food

Chapter 9: To a Crisp

Chapter 10: Sweatin’ to the Moldies

Chapter 11: Charred Snickerdoodle

Chapter 12: The Stink of Success

Chapter 13: Rocky Mountain Bleck

Chapter 14: Group Hug

Author’s Note: The Pizza That Refused to Die

Production Journal: Raising the Dead

About This Series

Series Guide

Product Description

About the Author

Bonus Preview

More Fun Picture Books

Ad 1: Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Santa's Super Helpers

Ad 2: Secret Agent Disco Dancer: Greatest Hits Vol. 1

Ad 3: My Crazy Pet Frog: The Nightmare Pizza Before Christmas

Thank You!

Dedication

Chapter 1: Pitstsa

Twas the week after Christmas, and what can I say? I was starving, raving—practically certifiable— and most definitely, not gay. Though the kitchen had been stocked with hams, frozen chicken, salmon—and what was that? Spam??? Could you believe it? There was smoked turkey, of the free-range, organic variety that melted in your mouth, a black pepper spicy version that made me want to shout. It was not long ‘til I was sadly out, contemplating what to do with my last sausage and sauerkraut. Ugh! Eggs, bags of carrots, potatoes—was that all I had left? Not a single tomato? Perhaps I could do Eggs Benedict? Or was I better off dead? As lovely as it all sounded—oh, how I longed for a trip to Nizza—I was really in the mood for an eighteen-inch pepperoni...

“Nnyya?” I read off the brochure. The fold-out menu featured a pizza pie front and center, what appeared to be calzones but larger and more swollen, and what the heck were those? Tacos? Here??? Nevertheless, it was the pizza pie that caught my eye. (Doesn’t it always?)

Oh, how utterly American. Ok, Italian-American. Fine, Italian! If only I knew how to read or speak Russian. “That crazy, good-for-nothing frog!” I grumbled. For the time being, there would be no trips to Nizza, and nary a slice of their award-winning, piccante Margherita pizza.

But I really didn’t have anything to complain about, at least not for the short term. I had been gifted, of all things, a house for Christmas, and quite a bit of land. So much land, that the nearest neighbor was... “Oh dear...” I looked out the window. “Twenty miles away?” I squinted. “Thirty...?”

There were mountains to accompany me, though, along with a thick wood of pines and a frozen lake that rested at their feet. Aside from that, there was snow—lots and lots of snow. I guess I could make a snowman to talk to if I got bored, or a whole town of them if I was feeling industrious. Holed away in my cozy, Russian mansion, I didn’t want to think about what I was going to do when the bratwurst ran out. Indeed, I probably had a month’s supply when I started. But the strange sounds at night, along with the fear that a certain super-sized frog might pay me a visit caused me to eat more than my fair share, and more still.

All the while, I had been worried about venturing out into the four foot drifts that were deeper in some places, and perhaps taller than my abbreviated height. Surely I would not come back if I drove a mile from home, and there was no way AAA operated out here. Though I was stuck, perhaps others weren’t, which made the take out menus in my care package all the more appealing. “Yesss...” I stared at the pizza menu some more. “Perhaps the pizza delivery guy could tell me what to do with myself.” I was warming up to the idea of placing an order, regardless of my lack of Russian.

To my surprise, the pizza place did not have a website. So much for the Russian bot narrative! Out here, the owner probably counted his money with an abacus.

When I could stand it no longer, I grabbed a phone and dialed the number on the brochure. Yes, at least there was one thing I could read on the menu—the phone number! After waiting for a few seconds for the call to go through, I was promptly given a busy signal. “Hmm...” I considered the number I’d just typed into my cellphone.

Now, I’m not an electronics expert by any means. In fact, I barely know my way around a computer, and placing an online order can be a challenge at times for an old fart like me. So the busy signal? It wasn’t as if the line was actually busy. Nope. I’d done something wrong, for sure—an operator error, if you will. The number on the brochure began with a plus, but I had no idea how that might be translated into a phone number. “No idea.” I put down the brochure and opened the refrigerator in defeat.

Out came the carrots, the potatoes, the carton of eggs... But indeed I could go no further. The plastic bag of sauerkraut looked back at me as if laughing. “We will make loyal Russian citizen out of you yet,” I could swear it spoke to me. (But with a German accent. Eh???)

Still, something about the brochure bothered me.