The trouble with collecting any kind of trapping kit is that sometimes someone traps you while you are doing it. And that is what happened: Barry made me help him take all the bat poo sacks out to the front gate. I do not know why people want to buy bat poo but they do. Barry says it is due to strategic advertising, which is what he calls the sign he sticks on top of the sacks that says:

    guaranteed premium ORGANIC BAT FERTILIZER made especially for you by happy bats

    When I asked Barry how he knew that the bats were happy, Barry said that he hadn't heard any of them saying they were unhappy and that was good enough for him. The rain had stopped while we were drag- ging out the sacks, but as we heaved the last one up against the hedge there was a sudden clap of thunder and the front door flew open with a bang. Great-aunt Emilene was standing on the top of the steps with Mathilda beside her.

    Right behind them I could see Aunt Tabby darting back and forth like a goalkeeper, making sure Great-aunt Emilene couldn't get back in. "Good-bye, Mother, " said Aunt Tabby in the extra-polite telephone voice she uses when she means the exact opposite of what she is saying. "It has been so nice to see you. Do come again. And don't worry about Maximilian, his little problem won't bother us. After all, ha- ha, we're used to Araminta. " I was glad that Great-aunt Emilene did not find this funny. She just glared at Aunt Tabby, then she threw the dead double ferret around her neck so fast that you could hear its glass eyes click together as she tottered off down the steps. Mathilda followed her and the skeleton Perkins jumped out of the car and held the door open for them. They drove off.

    I was sad that Mathilda was going. I wouldn't have minded at all if she had stayed. As the hearse drove slowly past Barry and me, Great-aunt Emilene stared straight ahead like a statue,but Mathilda looked out of the win- dow and waved. It was a small wave. I waved back. They had not gotten far when the hearse came to halt and then started reversing down the lane. Aunt Tabby saw it coming. She slammed the front door with a bang, and I am sure I heard her bolting it and putting the chain on. Great, I thought. Mathilda has changed her mind and she is going to stay too. But it was Perkins who got out. He didn't say a word. He just put some money for the bat poo in the box, heaved all the bat poo sacks into the back where the coffin had been, -71-  slammed the tailgate shut, and zoomed away. "Strategic advertising, " said Barry, sound- ing smug. "Always works. " Now that Barry had sold some poo he was Q in a good mood, so I said, "Barry, have you come across any werewolves around here?" "Werewolves? Well, no. Although last year . . . " "Did you find one last year?" I asked. ". . . I saw a really good movie about them, " he said. "Oh. So nothing hiding underneath the bat poo then? Or creeping along behind you in the basement corridors?" "No, " said Barry, "because werewolves don't exist except in stories. Now Araminta, I'm going to fill some more sacks right away because it's not good for business to let the stock run out.

    That way you lose potential cus- tomers. Would you like to come and help?" "No thank you, Barry, " I said politely, since I knew he was trying to be nice. I wanted to ask him more about werewolves--like what else he thought could be hanging around star- ing at me with horrible flashing eyes, growl- ing, and eating all my cheese and onion chips--but I decided not to. Instead I would get my Werewolf Trapping Kit together, trap the werewolf, and then they would all have to believe me. So for the next few days that is what I did. And it was a good thing I had something to do because my former best friend, Wanda Wizzard, was not my best friend anymore. In fact she was more like my best "fiend, " and I think she was haunting me.

    Everywhere I went I seemed to bump into her, and wher- ever she was, there was Max Spookie, follow- ing her around like her own little puppy. Yuck. Clearly Wanda has no taste when it comes to friends--apart from me, of course. Which is, as Uncle Drac says, the exception that proves the rule. First I found them in the ghost-in-the-bath bathroom, where Wanda was letting Max play with her acrobatic pet mice, which she never lets me touch. They had a whole mouse circus set up inside the haunted bath, which looked like fun. Later I bumped into them in the long cor- ridor that leads to the back door; Wanda was letting Max ride her new bike, which she won't let me near. He kept falling off and was obviously useless at riding a bike.

    But when Wanda saw me, did she say, "Oh, hello, Araminta, would you like a ride on my new bike too?" No, she did not. She said, "Oh, hello, Araminta, can Max borrow your skates?" Then she acted all shocked when I said, "No way. " Max just smiled a smug smile right at me and said, "Do not worry, Araminta. I do not like to skate. " When he smiled he showed vampire teeth at the corners of his mouth! They were noth- ing like Uncle Drac's; they were really sharp, like little needles. In fact they were so sharp and pointy that they looked like the real thing--the biting kind. I kept staring at Max, hoping for another look at his teeth, but he stopped smiling and stuck out his tongue at me. Then he fished a bag of candy from his pocket and said, "Wanda, would you like some candy?" And Wanda said, "Ooh, yes please, Max. It is so lovely to have a friend who offers you candy instead of eating it all herself. " I could have mentioned the gummy bears but I did not. Max didn't offer me any candy, but even if he had I wouldn't have taken it. Vampire candy is not good. You should never take candy from a vampire.

    When Max wasn't being Wanda's puppy, he was being Aunt Tabby's creep. That afternoon, Aunt Tabby decided to repaint the wood in the hall with thick, shiny brown paint, which was a nuisance since every time I walked through the hall collect- ing my Spookie Werewolf Trapping Kit I tripped over all kinds of painting stuff. "Mind those cans of paint, Araminta, " she snapped as I went past again. "I was nowhere near those cans of paint, " I said. "You don't have to be near cans of paint for them to suddenly fall over, Araminta, " she said, brushing her hair out of her eyes with painty hands. "They seem to take one look at you and throw themselves to the floor. Now, tell me, what do you think of the color?"

    "It's brown, Aunt Tabby, " I said, try- ing to be helpful. "Yes. But do you like it?" I don't like brown. Not one bit. But I didn't think I should say that. While I was thinking about what I should say, Max--who I am sure had been lurking in a dark corner and listening to every word--trotted up and said, "I love it. I think it is just the perfect shade of brown. You have a wonderful sense of color, Aunt Tabitha. " Aunt Tabby smiled like he was the best thing in the world and then creepy Max said, "Please, may I clean your paintbrushes, Aunt Tabitha? I love to clean paintbrushes. " Aunt Tabby looked thrilled. "What an obliging boy you are, Max, " she purred. Then she looked at me in a less than thrilled way and said, "You see, Araminta, that is what I mean about being polite and helpful. " I left Aunt Tabby and Max dis- cussing different shades of brown and got on with collecting the Spookie Werewolf Trapping Kit. And while I was doing that I was thinking about vampires. This is what I was thinking: There are two kinds of Vampires. There is the nice kind, like Uncle Drac, who does vampiry stuff like not liking daylight, hanging around with bats, and having cute pointy teeth at the sides of his smile. This is the kind of vampire who would not dream of biting you, not in a million years. They just happen to come from a vam- pire family, that is all. After all, some people say that I look like Aunt Tabby--which I don't--but even if I did it wouldn't mean I actually acted like Aunt Tabby, would it? So you can look like a vampire but you don't have to behave like one. Then there is the horrible kind of vampire.

    This is the nasty, biting kind whom you would Q not trust one inch. You can generally tell the nasty ones, as they are extremely creepy. They say nice things to people but they do not mean them. They lurk in corners listening to other people's conversations, they pretend that they are really helpful and considerate so that aunts love them, they steal people's best friends, and they have really sharp teeth. Does that remind you of anyone? That's right: Max. Vampire Max. It was obvious now:That was the reason why Max was suddenly best friends with Wanda. Wanda is not easy to be best friends with--I should know. But Max didn't really want to be Wanda's friend; he wanted to bite her. And although I kind of thought it would serve Wanda right if she did get bitten, I didn't really want that to happen.

    That would make her a vampire too, and I didn't think Wanda would be a very good vampire. She would just be trouble. And she might bite me. Something had to be done. The Spookie Werewolf Trapping Kit was now going to be the Spookie Combined Werewolf and Vampire Trapping Kit.

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