I just imagine R.L. Stine’s tired editor in 1997 reading the draft for The Haunted School after dealing with the madcap bores that Stine had been sending in for months, certain that Goosebumps was on its last legs, then sighing and whispering, “R.L., you son of a bitch…”
And a special shoutout to the kid who left the bookmark in their copy of Deep Trouble II so that I, too, may admire it from within its yellowed paper prison.