Carl Hiaasen

Language: English

Pages: 304

ISBN: 0375868275

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

The hysterical #1 New York Times bestseller from Newbery honoree Carl Hiaasen featuring gators, snakes, bats that bite, and reality show hosts gone wild!
When Wahoo Cray’s dad—a professional animal wrangler—takes a job with a reality TV show called Expedition Survival!, Wahoo figures he'll have to do a bit of wrangling himself to keep his father from killing Derek Badger, the show's inept and egotistical star. But the job keeps getting more complicated: Derek Badger insists on using wild animals for his stunts; and Wahoo's acquired a shadow named Tuna—a girl who's sporting a shiner courtesy of her father and needs a place to hide out. 

They've only been on location in the Everglades for a day before Derek gets bitten by a bat and goes missing in a storm. Search parties head out and promptly get lost themselves. And then Tuna's dad shows up with a gun . . .

It's anyone's guess who will actually survive Expedition Survival. . . 

“Only in Florida—and in the fiction of its native son Carl Hiaasen—does a dead iguana fall from a palm tree and kill somebody.” —New York Post
Chomp is a delightful laugh-out-loud sendup of the surreality of TV that will be enjoyed by readers of all ages.” —Los Angeles Times
Chomp shines in its humorous, subtle tweaks on pop culture. . . . The real satisfaction, however, is not so much in the book’s humor but in its truth.” —Time Out Chicago Kids

The Golden Ocean

Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor

Count to Ten

Astonishing Splashes of Colour

The Fast Buck

Naked Earth (New York Review Books Classics)





















TV. Derek motioned for Raven to fluff his pillows. He said, “Let him have his fun and be on his way.” Raven sat on the edge of the bed to watch the scene. She was prepared to be depressed. Her boss, the executive producer of Expedition Survival!, would be furious to learn that the Everglades episode was being scrapped. It cost big money whenever something like this happened, because the director and crew still had to be paid. On one memorable occasion, Derek had leaped from a baobab tree in

faked. They were also aware that at no time was Derek’s life in actual danger, since he was always accompanied by a camera crew packing food, candy, sunblock, water, first-aid supplies and, most likely, a large gun. “Derek’s never done a show in the Everglades,” Wahoo said to his father. “They say he’s a humongous pain in the butt, this guy.” “Just be nice, Pop. It’s a lot of money.” Mickey promised to behave. “So, when do we get to meet the man himself?” “His assistant is supposed to stop

he was, Sickler had acquired a large poster of Derek Badger, forged the star’s autograph on the bottom and tacked it to the wall beside the cash register. He’d also strung the weather-beaten mount of Old Sleepy from the ceiling beams, telling customers that it was the very same alligator Derek had wrestled on the TV program and that it had drowned after he battled it to exhaustion. Sickler’s souvenir business was booming, with eager suckers lining up to purchase overpriced coconut carvings,

beat it to smithereens with a banyan branch. Since then, Wahoo and Tuna had spoken only a few times, when she’d called him on the Crays’ house phone. “How’s your grandmother?” he asked. “She’s hangin’ in there, thanks to Mom. We’re all hangin’ in.” “And how’s Floyd dealing with the move?” “He’s a hamster, dude. Every day’s a good day.” Wahoo was curious to know if there was any wildlife to be classified in Chicago. “Autumn is overrated,” Tuna said. “It’s already too cold for butterflies,

boots splattered with wet oatmeal to look like mud. “What a poser,” Mickey said. “Chill out, Pop.” “Don’t we have some fire ants?” “That’s enough.” A rumpled assistant in orange sneakers and a corduroy vest began spraying something on Derek Badger’s arms and legs. Wahoo assumed it was insect repellent until the man in the vest told Derek to shut his eyes and then misted his face. “What is that stuff?” Wahoo asked Raven Stark. “Spray-on tan,” she said matter-of-factly. Wahoo thought that

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