Welcome to the excerpt page for The Squeezor is Coming!
The Squeezor is Coming!
by Becky Benishek. Illustrations by Matt Fiss.
copyright 2018 Becky Benishek
The Squeezor is a monster who loves to give hugs. Great, big, wrap-his-arms-around-you-twice, squeezy hugs.
The trouble is, the Squeezor doesn’t look like he just wants to give you a hug.
He looks like he wants to eat you up!
“The Squeezor is coming!” all the other monsters would shout when he came to the nearest town, Ghastly Gigapolis, for supplies.
From behind shop doors and curtains, from roof peaks and from alleyways, from third-floor house windows and through cellar-door slats, monsters furry or feathered, scaly or slimy, big or small, quivered as the Squeezor stumped along the sidewalk on his squat legs and big, squashy feet with three greasy toenails each.
They trembled at the sight of his giant, curved horns and frightfully fanged grin. Even the fur on his big blocky shape looked all wrong—a sickly, saggy mix of lime green, purplish brown, and mustard yellow.
And they were practically petrified at the chillingly sharp claws that glinted at the end of the Squeezor’s wrap-around-you-twice arms!
This made the Squeezor very sad.
“It’s not my fault I look this way,” he said to himself one day as he sat in his lonely house up in Vile Vale. “I don’t want to hurt anybody. How can I get everyone to trust me?”
The Squeezor stayed home all that day to think. He didn’t have to worry about being disturbed because nobody ever came to visit him.
He wandered into his library and leafed aimlessly through 7 Habits of Highly Disgruntled Monsters; then he read, How to Stop Worrying and Start Eating, and he finished up with, I’m Okay, You’re Decaying.
None of them helped, not even the one called, First Things First: 10 Tasks to Sink Your Teeth Through.
He went into his kitchen and half-heartedly stirred up a pot of his favorite, putrid green tomato soup and slowly munched a moldy grilled cheese sandwich.
He didn’t really feel hungry, though, and wasn’t even tempted by the box of Nose Nougats on the counter.
He switched on the television in the living room to look for an advice show. One of the channels was running a marathon of Game of Bones, and he’d watched two and a half episodes before he realized it.
The Squeezor didn’t even like Game of Bones. He switched off the set.
“How can I change anything when I can’t even figure out what to do with myself?” he grumbled as he wandered around his house.
Just then, he stopped short in the hallway, under a portrait of his Great-Grandmother Squeezums, who always seemed to be glaring lovingly at the Squeezor.
“Maybe that’s it!” he said. “Maybe it’s not myself that I have to figure out.”
The Squeezor, excited now, heated up another bowl of putrid green tomato soup, ate half the box of Nose Nougats (the box itself was edible), and didn’t go to bed until he had a plan.
My book comes in softcover and hardcover, and also in a dyslexic font version.
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