Johnny Halloween Read Online Free PDF Page A

form of protest, and the stock clerks wouldn’t be pleased about it, either. Especially if such dramatics got to be a regular event.
    Vicky pushed the cart aside. She imagined Alice Wentworth sitting in her car, telling her prayer pals how well her stunt had worked.
    Our little reverend’s just full of tricks, isn’t he? Vicky thought as she returned to the register.
    A man was waiting for her. Judging from the way he was carrying on, Vicky guessed that he’d seen the entire incident.
    She grinned. The man was wearing a Scarecrow costume complete with a burlap mask. He had one finger pointed at his forehead, and he said in a rough voice, “If I only had a brain. Am I right?”
    Vicky laughed and rang up the man’s purchases.
    Eight T-bone steaks. Twelve candles. A coil of rope. A pumpkin. A can of lighter fluid.
    The Scarecrow paid her. She bagged the items.
    “Keep the faith,” he said, and then he wobbled out the door, as crazy-legged as Ray Bolger ever was.
    “I never seen so many books.”
    “Here we are. 133.4. Bag ’em.”
    “Right away. Boy, who would have ever thought that people would write so much about this kind of stuff?”
    “It sure does make the head spin, doesn’t it? C’mon, get busy…Okay. That’s enough. I’ll carry these out to the car. You take the flashlight and go find that book the boss wanted.”
    “Sure. What’s the number on it?”
    “It’s fiction, not nonfiction.”
    “Yeah. Right. But what’s the number on it?”
     
    ****
     
    “Apples are all clean, Mother.”
    “Good job, Dad. Now comes the hard part.”
    “Gee whiz. Ain’t seen one of these since you gave me the safety razor last Christmas.”
    “That was two Christmases ago, Dad. Now, mind you don’t cut yourself.”
     
    ****
     
    Beautiful view from up here, the Scarecrow thought. Stars above and city below.
    His assistants had already planted the fence posts. The Scarecrow peeled plastic wrap and Styrofoam away from the T-bones. He circled the posts, squeezing blood from the meat. Then he crisscrossed the circle, blood dribbling between his gloved fingers as he formed the sign of the pentagram.
    The Scarecrow’s assistants pulled lengths of kindling from the bed of the rented pickup truck. While the masked man placed candles around the circle, they piled the wood around the posts.
    “Not too much just yet.” The Scarecrow’s words puffed the burlap mask away from his face. “Remember, we’ve got to tie ’em to the posts first, and you might get yourself a nasty splinter scrambling around knee-deep in tinder.”
    The men laughed. One moved to light a cigarette.
    “I didn’t say that you should quit working.” The Scarecrow pointed at the truck. “One of you can carve the pumpkin. And someone better make sure that cat hasn’t scratched its way out of that burlap sack.”
     
    ****
     
    Marge caught the phone on the third ring. “Is this Marge King, the librarian?”
    “Yes. That’s me.”
    “Got your nose in a big thick book, bitch? Or do you got a big thick book jammed up your filthy cunt while you dream about Satan’s big black cock? Bet you like that, huh? Bet you get all juicy dreaming about—”
    The librarian slammed down the receiver. Stared at the phone. Waited for it to ring again.
    No. Not tonight. She’d heard more than enough for one night.
    The doorbell rang, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
    Hating the fear that made her fingers shake, Marge King unplugged the phone.
    She answered the door, a basket of candy cradled under one arm.
    No one was there.
     
    ****
     
    “Well, Henry, thanks for letting me use your phone.”
    “Don’t mention it.”
    “Say, mind if I help myself to an apple?”
    “Well, not those apples.”
    “Oh yeah. Silly me.”
    “Here you go. Saved this one for you special.”
    “Thanks, Henry. My, but you grow the best…Big and green.”
    “Whoa, now. There’s that danged doorbell again…and here’s the little woman. Mother, take a look at your