Revenge of the Lawn Gnomes Read Online Free PDF

to work. Keep him tied up.
We’ll talk later.” I watched him make his way to the garage.
    This is all Mr. McCall’s fault, I thought. All of it! After Dad drove away, I
stamped angrily into the garage and grabbed the lawn mower. I pushed the mower
around the side of the house and into the front yard. Mindy sat on the front
steps, reading. I rammed the mower forward.
    “I hate Mr. McCall!” I exclaimed. I shoved the mower around a flamingo. I
felt like slicing off its skinny legs. “He is such a jerk. I’d like to smash the
other four stupid melons!” I cried. “I’d love to wreck them all so Mr. McCall
will leave us alone!”
    “Joe, get a grip,” Mindy called, peering up from her book.
    After I finished mowing, I ran into the house and grabbed a large plastic bag
for the grass clippings. When I came back out, Moose was sprawled on our lawn. Several brightly
colored plastic rings lay scattered on the grass around him.
    “Think fast!” he cried. He hurled a blue plastic ring at me. I dropped the
bag and leaped for it.
    “Nice catch!” he said, scrambling to his feet. “How about a game of ring
toss? We’ll use the gnomes’ pointy hats.”
    “How about using Mindy’s pointy head?” I replied.
    “You are so immature,” Mindy said. She stood and walked to the door. “I’m
going to find some place quiet to read.”
    Moose handed me a few rings. He flung a purple one toward Hap. The ring slid
neatly around the gnome’s hat.
    “What a throw!” he exclaimed.
    I took a ring and spun around like a discus thrower. I tossed two yellow
rings at Chip. They slapped against the gnome’s fat face and slipped to the
grass.
    Moose chuckled. “You throw like Mindy. Watch me!” He leaned forward and
hurled two rings. They settled neatly around Chip’s pointy hat.
    “Yes!” Moose cried. He flexed his bulging muscles. “Super Moose rules again!”
    We tossed the rest of the rings. Moose beat me. But only by two points—ten
to eight.
    “Rematch!” I cried. “Let’s play again!”
    I dashed over to the gnomes and gathered up the rings. As I pulled a handful from Chip’s hat, I stared into his face.
    And gasped.
    What was that?
    A seed.
    An orange seed about half an inch long.
    Stuck between the gnome’s fat lips.

 
 
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    “Is that a melon seed?” I asked, my voice trembling.
    “A what?” Moose stomped up behind me.
    “A melon seed,” I repeated.
    Moose shook his head. He clapped a big hand against my shoulder. “You’re
seeing things,” he declared. “Come on, let’s play!”
    I pointed to Chip’s mouth. “I’m not seeing things. There! Right there! Don’t
you see it?”
    Moose’s gaze followed my finger. “Yeah. I see a seed. So what?”
    “It’s a casaba melon seed, Moose. Like the ones scattered on the ground.”
    How could a casaba seed find its way into Chip’s mouth?
    There had to be an explanation. A simple explanation.
    I thought hard. I couldn’t think of one.
    I brushed the seed from the gnome’s lips and watched it flutter to the grass.
    Then I stared at the gnome’s grinning face. Into those cold, flat eyes.
    And the gnome stared back at me. I shivered in the heat.
    How did that seed get there? I wondered. How?
     
    I dreamed about melons that night. I dreamed that a casaba melon grew in our
front yard. Grew and grew and grew. Bigger than our house.
    Something startled me out of my melon dream. I fumbled for my alarm clock.
One A.M.
    Then I heard a howl. A low, mournful howl. Outside the house.
    I jumped out of bed and hurried to the window. I peered into the shadowy
front yard. The lawn ornaments stood in silence.
    I heard the howl again. Louder. Longer.
    It was Buster. My poor dog. Tied up in the back yard.
    I crept out of my room and down the dark hall. The house was quiet. I started
down the carpeted stairs.
    A step squeaked under my foot. I jumped, startled.
    A second later, I heard another creak.
    My legs were shaking.
    Cool it, Joe, I told myself.