1-2-3 Scream!: List 3

Last year, kids at school talked for weeks about Jeremy’s eleventh birthday party and the incredible interstellar celebration he threw.

Jeremy’s parents decorated the lobby of their condominium to look like a space station.

The holographic planetarium moon bounce could hold forty kids at a time.

The entire back wall was a corrugated metal door, the kind you’d see on a garage.

A little girl, maybe six years old, sat at a table covered with a red checkered tablecloth.

The girl held Happy Heidi up to the camera…and its porcelain face fell off.

It wasn’t the girl talking. The sound definitely came from the insect. The voice was a low, chittering rasp.

“This is the greatest show that has ever been on any screen,” growled the insect, snapping its mandibles between words.

“You will show my videos to your family and friends...and they will show them to all of their friends. Everyone must know that my show is amazing and captivating.”

She had thousands of cards, posters, bottle caps, and ticket stubs for every sports team in Chicago.

Those were awesome, but where she really had everyone beat was her treasure trove of Chicago Cubs everything.

She had built it all by herself, through shrewd buying, selling, and trading.

Once, she forged a Babe Ruth signature on a baseball and traded it for a real signed Ernie Banks first baseman’s glove.

She was always working on a trade, or a scam or swindle.

She grabbed her 2016 Cubs commemorative lunch box, put Knob inside, and zipped it shut.

She reached down, unzipped the insulated lunch box, and took out the bobblehead.

Determined, she pored over team photos for any sign of him.

She took out Crandall’s Complete Card Compendium and flipped to the twentieth-century section. She scanned every team roster from 1901 to 1950.

Krista had started storing her less precious keepsakes in the basement, including most of her sports-related books.

“Record books, almanacs, histories,” Krista said, reading labels on boxes stacked five high.

She took down the box of yearbooks, set it on the floor, and began to flip through musty albums.

Two days later, a tourist found Delahanty dead at the bottom of Niagara Falls. Knob disappeared without a trace, so police were never able to question him.
Major League officials are debating what to do with Knob’s history, as this sordid tale may tarnish the sport’s sterling reputation.

Major League officials are debating what to do with Knob’s history, as this sordid tale may tarnish the sport’s sterling reputation.

Major League officials are debating what to do with Knob’s history, as this sordid tale may tarnish the sport’s sterling reputation.

She pictured the real-life Knob, with his head wobbling gruesomely before collapsing on the field.

He held up a plastic card on a lanyard:
“A gold pass!” said Krista.

And I know exactly what I’m going to sell at the VIP auction, too.

And that math test. It was a lucky coincidence that she picked all the correct answers, that’s all.

Krista’s super-rare Hank Sauer figurine had been completely shredded. One small section of his face resting on top of a mound of slivered plastic was the only recognizable piece.

Knob’s mouth sprang open, revealing rows of gleaming white teeth. Razor-sharp gleaming white teeth.