Brandon Dorman - The Alien That Ate My Socks

Text and illustrations 2016 Brandon Dorman

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher, Shadow Mountain, at permissions@shadowmountain.com. The views expressed herein are the responsibility of the author and do not necessarily represent the position of Shadow Mountain.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Dorman, Brandon, author, illustrator. | Dorman, Brandon. Hoolie and the hooligans ; book 1.

Title: The alien that ate my socks / written and illustrated by Brandon Dorman.

Description: Salt Lake City, Utah : Shadow Mountain, [2016] | 2016. | Series: Hoolie and the hooligans ; book 1 | Summary: Henry and his brothers Hank and Hector are simply trying to get in all the fun they can before school starts, when a purple alien monster shows up and messes up their plans.

Identifiers: LCCN 2016005998 | ISBN 9781629722221 (hardbound : alk. paper)

Subjects: LCSH: BrothersFiction. | AliensFiction. | CYAC: BrothersFiction. | Family lifeFiction. | Extraterrestrial beingsFiction. | Adventure and adventurersFiction. | LCGFT: Action and adventure fiction.

Classification: LCC PZ7.D727596 Al 2016 | DDC [Fic]dc23

LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2016005998 (CIP data on file)

Printed in the United States of America06/2016

Lake Book Manufacturing Inc., Melrose Park, IL

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Book design 2016 Shadow Mountain.

Art direction by Richard Erickson.

Cover design and illustrations by Brandon Dorman.

For my beautiful and golden wife, Emily

Chapter 1

The Hooligan Hasher

Hi, Im Henry. Ive had fake front teeth for two years now. I was standing behind my oldest brother, Hank, when we were playing baseball in the street and WHAMMO! Bat to the face.

Man-o-man, it hurt. Hank felt real bad, but the good news is my dads a dentist. He gave me new teeth and they feel just like the real thing: slimy and hard. Thats why Im not afraid of riding in the front of our go-cart for tomorrows race. I figure if something gets broken, Ill just get a fake one to replace it.

We worked all summer on our racing machine. We call it the Hooligan Hasher. First because we hope to hash up our competition, and second because we love hash browns for breakfast.

It holds all three of us brothers and its made from a large piece of irrigation pipe we found in a ditch. We wrapped a metal sheet into a cone and attached it to the front. Its pretty much a missile on wheels! We made it similar to a go-cart in Hanks Boy Scout book with some of our own modifications. It has a spoiler, a side-view mirror, and a windshieldwith an electric wiper. Levers run along the inside to where my oldest brother, Hank, sits in the back so he can steer. Since I am the youngest and the smallest I ride in the front, leaving Hector in the middle. Everyone knows that in a race you want the most weight near your back wheels. Hank was a three-time Pinewood Derby champion with this method, so he knows what hes doing. Our plan has Hector and Hank pushing off and jumping in behind me, like a bobsled team.

Since tomorrow is the big race, we looked it over one more time. Hank was standing with his tongue out and eyebrows down, his eyes inspecting everything carefully. Then his tongue slipped back inside his mouth and said, We need more weight. And since the weight needs to be in the back, we need to shift everything forward.

I reminded him that my legs went in the front and if he was going to shift things forward he was going to have to figure out how to get rid of my legs.

My legs dont detach, Hank, I pointed out, but then I wondered if fake legs would be better than real ones. Gigi, our grandma, had surgery on her legs and she told us that the doctor gave her bionic knees. She doesnt use a walker anymore. Ive asked her at least a hundred times to leap over a house in a single bound. She reassures me she will, if ever an urgent need arises, but its bad manners to be a showoff. Then theres the man who runs the Gas N Go, who has a fake eye. I wonder if its bionic, because it seems like he sees everything that goes on in Skunkerton. Thats the name of our town.

We could use some bionic-ness tomorrow.

The only way Rock can beat us, Hank said, is with weight. No way whatever hes built is more aerodynamic or has wheels that spin smoother. The heavier we are, the faster well fly down Deadmans Hill. So if you must keep your legs, then well each have to drink a gallon of water just before the race. By my calculations, that would add at least an extra twenty-five pounds.

I think Henry should drink a gallon of blended monkey brains, Hector teased. I told him he would look better with monkey lips.

Better yet, Hank said, ignoring us both, if were going to drink a gallon of something, we might as well make it something good. How about orange juice?

All of us Hooligans love orange juice, especially to dip our toast in.

Its settled, Hank said. Twenty-five pounds of orange juice. Other than the weight, all we need to do is paint er up and were golden. Were gonna smoke the old-lady-kisser tomorrow!

We gotta paint flames on it! I said.

Hector laughed. I think Henrys head would look good with flames on itreal flames. He laughed some more.

I told him if I had some, I would use my head-flames to roast him like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Flames are cool, Hank said. So we agreed on painting red flames on the side of the Hooligan Hasher. Then we attached a sign on the back that reads ROCK EATS BLENDED MONKEY BRAINS.

Mom and Dad dont know weve built the Hooligan Hasher. This race is just between us three Hooligan brothers and Rock Rubinstein, a big, round-faced bully. He has a twenty-year-old brother who races real race cars, supposedly in the Indian 500. Honestly, I had never heard of a race with five hundred Indians, but its a big deal, I guess. The only other people who know about our top-secret race are Ellie Einstein and Gwen Gardner. Ellie is going to shoot the gun at the starting line (dont worry though, its an old cap gun from the dollar store) and Gwen is going to be at the bottom with a checkered tablecloth (also a bargain at the dollar store). We Hooligans love the dollar store. Especially the snack packswho cares if the expiration date was a year ago? Everythings just a little chewier than normal.