Disney Book Group - Bedtime Stories: The Junior Novel

Adapted by Helena Mayer
Based on the Screenplay by Matt Lopez and Tim Herlihy
And the Story by Matt Lopez
Executive Producers Adam Shankman, Jennifer Gibgot, Garrett Grant,
Ann Marie Sanderlin
Produced by Adam Sandler, Jack Giarraputo, Andrew Gunn
Directed by Adam Shankman

Copyright 2008 Disney Enterprises, Inc.

All rights reserved. Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney Press, 114 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10011-5690.

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition
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Library of Congress Catalog Card Number on file.
ISBN 978-1-4231-5271-2

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Contents

I m going to tell you a story now.

But as any good storyteller knowsand I am a very good storytellerthere are several vitally important things that must be done before one begins. First off, one must be sure the audience (thats you) is ready. Are you comfortably seated? Do you need to use the bathroom? Whats that? You do?

Too bad. Hold it in.

So now we will begin as we begin every storywith a certain phrase. A magical phrase filled with awesome and mysterious power. Ready?

Here we go.

Once upon a time...

Chapter
One

O nce upon a time, there was a man named Martin Bronson. He was the owner and operator of the Sunny Vista Motel, which he established on the corner of Sunset and La Cienega boulevards in Los Angeles, California, USA. This was in the year 1974. It was a labor of love for Marty, and he ran the hotel with the help of his children, Wendy and Skeeter.

Wendy wasnt a huge fan of the hospitality business, but for Skeeter the motel was a magical place. He could bounce on the beds in the empty rooms. He could wage fierce battles with his armies of minisoaps and shampoos. He could explore wild, exotic new territories... like the ice room. Or the snack bar.

Wherever he went, he was surrounded by happy guests. Glowing honeymooners, cheerful businessmen, laughing familiesall of them pleased to be spending a night at the Sunny Vista Motel.

There was only one problem. Marty Bronson was a wonderful dad, a splendid host... but a terrible businessman. His old-fashioned ideas about hospitality didnt stand a chance in such a cutthroat field. Before long, the Sunny Vista was on its last legs. Marty did everything he could to save the business.

And even though he was only eight years old, little Skeeter tried his best to help. Ive got a lot of ideas about how to improve things around here, he said one night as his dad was tucking him into bed. I was thinking we could put an extra pair of socks in each room, cause people always forget to pack enough socks when they go on a trip.

Marty smiled warmly as he pulled the covers up to Skeeters chin.

Wait, Dad, Im not even tired! Skeeter protested. Maybe if you tell me one of your bedtime stories, itll make me fall asleep.

Marty thought about it for a moment, then sat down on the edge of the bed. He could tell a pretty fair tale when the muse was with him. He assumed a suitably dramatic storytelling voice, and within moments, little Skeeter was swept away to magical, imaginary lands. By the time Marty finished the story, Skeeter was asleep.

Or so Marty thought.

As soon as Marty left, Skeeters eyes popped open. He climbed from his bed and slipped out of his room, tiptoeing down the hallway toward his fathers office. He stopped just outside the door, peering inside.

His father was in there, talking to a British man that Skeeter had never seen before. Skeeter had no way of knowing that this was Barry Nottingham, one of the worlds most successful young hotel owners. Cant you read the writing on the wall, Bronson? Mr. Nottingham asked. This motel is sinking in red ink, and Im offering you a last lifeboat.

Mr. Nottingham handed Marty Bronson a piece of paper and a pen. Marty gripped the pen and held it over the page, then he froze.

Oh, for goodness sake! Mr. Nottingham snapped. Ive never met a more indecisive man in my life. Youve got to have confidence to succeed in this business! And you have none!

Yet Marty was still hesitant. He said he had hoped to pass the Sunny Vista on to Skeeter one day.

I understand, Bronson, Mr. Nottingham said, slinging an arm around Martys shoulder. How about thisif your boy works hard and shows some smarts when he grows up, Ill let him run the place for me someday. Mr. Nottingham dropped his armand, at the same time, dropped the friendly act. Now sign the darn papers!

Heaving a long sigh, Marty signed his name at the bottom of the contractand lost the Sunny Vista Motel forever.

Thats my boy, Bronson, Mr. Nottingham said heartily. Trust me, Im going to turn this place into the best hotel in Los Angeles. Its gonna be uptight and outta-sight!

And he kept that promise....

Like an ugly duckling becoming a beautiful swan, the Sunny Vista motel metamorphosed into a huge, luxurious, andyesuptight and outta-sight new hotel: the Sunny Vista Nottingham. For thirty years, it reigned supreme as the place where princes and presidents stayed when visiting Southern California. And if those princes and presidents needed anything, they asked for Skeeter Bronson... the handyman.

You thought I was going to say manager, didnt you?

So did Skeeter. Or, at least, he kept waiting for Barry Nottingham to say manager, giving him the promotion he dreamed of.

Hed been waiting for a long time.

Skeeter had been working at the hotel his entire life. He started out as a parking valet, then room-service waiter, then apprentice handyman, then got bumped up to assistant handyman. Hed been the chief handyman for three years. But that wasnt enough for Skeeter. He wanted to run the place, just like his father had all those years ago. And he was sure hed be great at it. After all, the guests loved him.

For example, take the day he saw one of the receptionists yelling at an older woman. Skeeter couldnt just stand by and watch.

Hi, Mrs. Dixon, Skeeter said, smiling warmly at the woman. Is there something I can help you with?

Skeeter, this has nothing to do with you, the receptionist said. Her name was Aspen, and she hated Skeeter. (In fact, she pretty much hated everyoneexcept for her boss, Kendall Duncan.) Mrs. Dixon here has been taking bottles out of her minibar, Aspen sneered, and now she doesnt want to pay for them.

Mrs. Dixon widened her eyes. I didnt even open that evil little refrigerator! she cried in a high, quivering voice.