Read Revenge of the Lawn Gnomes for Free Online Page B

they’re
not grinning anymore. Come out. You’ll see!”
    Mom slowly shoved her chair away from the computer. “Joe, if this is another
joke…”
    “Please, Mom. It will just take a second. It’s not a joke. Really!”
    Mom led the way downstairs. She gazed at the gnomes from the front door.
    “See?” I cried, standing behind her. “I told you! Look at their faces. They look like they’re screaming!”
    Mom narrowed her eyes. “Joe, give me a break. Why did you get me away from my
work? They have the same dumb grins they always have.”
    “What?” I gasped. I ran outside. I stared at the gnomes.
    They stared back at me. Grinning.
    “Joe, I really wish you’d stop the dumb gnome jokes,” Mom said sharply.
“They’re not funny. Not funny at all.”
    “But look at the paint on their fingers!”
    “That’s just dirt,” she said impatiently. “Please, go read a book. Or clean
your room. Find something to do. You’re driving me crazy!”
    I sat down on the grass. Alone. To think.
    I thought about the casaba seed on one of the gnome’s lips. I remembered the
first time their mouths had twisted in horror. That was the first time Buster
had licked them.
    And now they had paint on their fingers.
    It all added up.
    The gnomes are alive, I decided.
    And they’re doing horrible things in the McCalls’ garden.
    The gnomes? Doing horrible things? I must be losing my mind!
    Suddenly, I didn’t feel too well. Nothing made any sense.
    I stood up to go inside.
    And heard whispers.
    Gruff whispers. Down at my feet.
    “Not funny, Joe,” Hap whispered.
    “Not funny at all,” Chip rasped.

 
 
13
     
     
    Should I tell Mom and Dad what I heard? I wondered as we ate dinner that
night.
    “How was everyone’s day?” Dad asked cheerfully. He spooned some peas onto his
dinner plate.
    They’ll never believe me.
    “Heidi and I rode our bikes to the pool,” Mindy piped up. She arranged a
mound of tuna casserole on her plate into a neat square. Then she flicked a
stray pea away. “But she got a cramp in her leg, so we mostly sunbathed.”
    I have to tell.
    “I heard something really weird this afternoon,” I burst out. “Really, really
weird.”
    “You interrupted me!” Mindy said sharply. She blotted her mouth carefully
with her napkin.
    “But this is important!” I exclaimed. I started shredding my napkin
nervously. “I was in the front yard. All alone. And I heard whispers.”
    I made my voice low and gruff. “The voices said, ‘Not funny, Joe. Not funny.’
I don’t know who it was. Nobody was there. I… uh… think it was the gnomes.”
    Mom banged her glass of lemonade down on the table. “Enough with these gnome
jokes!” she declared. “No one thinks they’re funny, Joe.”
    “But it’s true!” I cried, crushing my shredded napkin into a ball. “I heard
the voices!”
    Mindy uttered a scornful laugh. “You are so lame,” she said. “Please pass the
bread, Dad.”
    “Sure, honey,” Dad replied, handing her the wooden tray of dinner rolls.
    And that was the end of that.
     
    After dinner, Dad suggested that we water the tomatoes.
    “Okay,” I replied with a shrug. Anything to get out of the house.
    “Want me to get the Bug Be Gone ?” I asked as we stepped outside.
    “No! No!” he gasped. His face turned ghostly pale.
    “What’s wrong, Dad? What is it?”
    He pointed silently at the tomato patch.
    “Ohhh,” I moaned. “Oh, no!”
    Our beautiful red tomatoes had been crushed, mangled, and maimed—seeds and
pulpy red tomato flesh everywhere.
    Dad stared openmouthed, his hands balled into fists. “Who would do such a
terrible thing?” he sighed.
    My heart began to throb. My pulse raced.
    I knew the truth. And now everyone would have to believe me.
    “The gnomes did it, Dad!” I grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and began tugging
him to the front yard. “You’ll see. I’ll prove it!”
    “Joe, let go of me. This is no time for jokes. Don’t you realize that we’re
out of