Planet of the Lawn Gnomes

by R. L. Stine

  It was yellowed and dust smeared, and the pages were cracked. But I stole it from the library because it was the most amazing chemistry book ever written.

  The faded title on the front of the book read Chemycal Magyk. There was no author name.

  Maybe the author wanted to keep hidden. Because the instructions in the book were dangerous and frightening.

  The chemical mixtures were like witchcraft or sorcery. Not science.

  The formulas and mixtures could do horrible things to people. Change people into monsters. Make them grow fur or fangs. Or shrink them to the size of insects.

  It was crazy. It was wild. It seemed impossible. But the mysterious author claimed that anyone could make these potions out of simple chemicals. I’d buried the book on the bottom of my shelf because it scared me a little.

  But now it was time to drag it out and use it. McClatchy asked for it. And I knew exactly which mixture I wanted to make.

  My hands trembled as I gathered the ingredients. I was nervous and frightened and excited all at the same time.

  And as I began to measure and pour, a smile crossed my face.

  McClatchy, you are doomed….

  I stepped out into the night. I crossed the street and walked up the sloping lawn to McClatchy’s front stoop.

  Holding the glass bottle in one hand, I knocked on the front door with the other.

  McClatchy was surprised to see me. He greeted me with a cold sneer. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to apologize,” I said softly. I flashed him my most sincere look. “I feel so bad about what happened.”

  He blinked. “Apologize?”

  I nodded. “Can I come in?” I held up the bottle with its dark liquid. “I brought you a cold drink.”

  He squinted at me, studying me. Then he slowly opened the screen door.

  I stepped into his front room. The room was dimly lit. The furniture was all black and gray. Weird music played. It sounded like a lot of whistles tooting at once.

  I handed him the bottle. “Try this,” I said. “It’s a cold drink for you. My way of saying sorry.”

  He took the bottle and sniffed it. “Smells good.”

  “I hope you like it,” I said. “I really do want to apologize. I swear things will be different from now on.”

  I watched him take a sip of my liquid mixture. He seemed to like it. He took a long drink. Then he tilted the bottle and drank it all down.

  “Good, right?” I said.

  He licked his lips. Then he blinked his eyes several times.

  “Did you enjoy it?” I asked.

  “Woof woof,” he said.

  “Good,” I replied.

  “Woof woof rrrrufff wooof,” McClatchy barked.

  “Good boy. That’s a good boy,” I said. I patted him on the head.

  His eyes bulged and his eyebrows rose up high on his head. “Woof woof?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, you get it, McClatchy, boy. You’re a dog now. My special drink turned you into a dog.”

  “Woof woof.” He nodded. He was definitely catching on.

  “Why don’t you get down on all fours?” I said. “Now that you’re a dog, you have to learn to walk like a dog.”

  “Woof?” He stared at me for a long moment. Then he lowered himself to the floor.

  “Now, stand still,” I said. “Don’t move.”

  “Woof?”

  “I’m going to kick you across the room.”

  The surprised look on his face made me laugh. The laughter just tumbled out of me. I couldn’t stop. I laughed and laughed.

  I stopped when a loud voice behind me shouted, “Jay? What are you doing? What’s so funny?”

  I blinked. I was standing in my bedroom. Dad filled the doorway.

  He squinted at me. “I heard you laughing all the way downstairs. What’s so funny?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing,” I said. “Just daydreaming.”

  “Must have been a funny daydream,” Dad said.

  “It was,” I answered.

  It was a very funny daydream. But too bad. Only a daydream.

  Dad waved and went back downstairs.

  I sat down on my bed and thought hard. I didn’t know what I wanted to do to get my revenge on McClatchy. I didn’t have any weird spell book. That was just something my crazy brain dreamed up.

  But I knew I had to do something.

  I’m going over there. Maybe I’ll think of something good when I get there.

  I waited awhile. I didn’t want Mom or Dad to catch me. I knew I wasn’t allowed out at night.

  But I had to risk it. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I didn’t.

  So after a while, I crept down the stairs, careful not to make the steps squeak. I peeked into the living room. Dad had fallen asleep with a magazine on his lap. I didn’t see Mom.

  I turned and tiptoed to the kitchen. Mr. Phineas was curled up under the breakfast table. He was sound asleep, snoring noisily.

  I slipped past him and stepped out the back door. I closed it carefully, silently. I took a deep breath of the cool, crisp night air.

  My whole body tingled. I knew I was excited. My heart was thudding in my chest — this time for real.

  I turned and, pressing against the wall along the side of the house, made my way to the street. I could see the tall hedge and beyond it, the dark shape of McClatchy’s house.

  What was I going to do there? What was I going to do to McClatchy?

  I still didn’t know. I just knew I wanted to do something really bad.

  I stopped at the hedge. My legs suddenly felt weak and rubbery. I was breathing noisily, my chest heaving up and down.

  I held my breath when I heard a flapping sound overhead. Beating wings. Was it a bat? A Buzzard Hawk?

  I pressed my back into the prickly hedge and waited for it to fly away. Then I turned toward McClatchy’s house. Pitch-black. Not a light on anywhere.

  The front yard stretched in shades of black and gray.

  I should have brought a flashlight. I can’t see a thing.

  My sneakers scraped the driveway as I began to walk toward the house.

  I still had no idea what I planned to do.

  I’m not really a bad kid. Sure, I got in a lot of trouble in the old neighborhood. And today.

  But I don’t try to be bad. I mean, I’m not evil or anything.

  But tonight I knew I was doing the right thing. This man had kicked my dog. Kicked him really hard. And he deserved to be punished for it.

  Staring up at the dark house, I made my way step by step up the driveway, walking slowly, carefully.

  I didn’t see the man standing in front of me until I bumped right into him.

  “Oh!” I uttered a startled cry. “I’m sorry!”

  He didn’t speak. He didn’t move at all.

  “I … I didn’t mean to bump you,” I stammered. But then, in the pale light from a streetlamp at the curb, I saw that it wasn’t a man at all. It was a lawn gnome.

  How did it get in the middle of McClatchy’s driveway?

  I squinted hard at it. The little man’s eyes appeared to glow in the dim light. His pointed hat was tilted on his head. His mouth was turned down in an angry scowl.

  I glanced around. McClatchy had two lawn gnomes. I didn’t see the other one. Maybe it was hidden in the blackness under the tall hedge.

  I put my hand on the gnome’s hat and squeezed the top. To my surprise, the hat felt soft — not hard as plaster.

  Suddenly, I had an idea.

  I pulled a black marker from my jeans pocket. I had brought it along in case I found something to mark up. And now I had found it — this lawn gnome.

  I giggled to myself. I pulled the top off the marker.

  My plan was to paint the dude’s white mustache. Make it bigger and black. And make his eyes cross. And blacken a few of his front teeth.

  This would definitely make McClatchy angry. If I could find the other gnome, I’d mark him up, too.

&
nbsp; Then maybe I could break off the gnomes’ stupid hats. I’d break off their pointy hats and leave them on the ground in front of them.

  That idea made me giggle again.

  If McClatchy wants to mess with my dog, it’s only fair that I mess with his lawn gnomes.

  I raised the marker and moved it to the gnome’s mustache.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” the gnome rasped. Its hand shot up and grabbed me by the throat.

  “Unnnnh.” I started to choke as a sharp pain swept down my neck.

  The gnome’s fingers were bone hard. He tightened his grip, squeezing my throat.

  I couldn’t breathe. I tried to squirm away. But he clamped his hand even tighter. He had amazing strength for such a little creature.

  I thrashed my arms. Tried to punch him. But he held me out in front of him, choking me … choking me.

  His dark eyes glowed with excitement. His whole face was clenched tight from his effort to hold me in place.

  Please …

  I could feel my face grow hot. I struggled to hit him, but my arms felt weak. I was going limp.

  No air. No air. The pain was intense.

  I shut my eyes. To my surprise, the pain suddenly grew lighter. The gnome let go of me.

  I stumbled back and dropped to my knees.

  The lawn gnome stood over me, clenching and unclenching his fist. “Heh heh heh.” His mouth opened in a hoarse chuckle. It sounded like a chicken’s cluck.

  Gasping for air, I tried to rub the pain from my throat. On my knees, we were about the same height. He chuckled again, his eyes catching the light from the street.

  How can this be? Lawn gnomes can’t come to life.

  I knew it wasn’t a dream. I was in too much pain to be dreaming.

  Rubbing his beard, the gnome moved toward me. Was he going to choke me again?

  I jumped to my feet. My mind whirring in panic, I spun away from him. I turned to run.

  But I bumped right into the other lawn gnome. He let out an ugly grunt and wrapped his hands around my waist. His hands were hard as steel. He grunted again and tried to lift me off the ground.

  Gripping me around the middle, he pressed his face against my arm as he struggled to raise me. His cheek was warm. It felt like human skin.

  His breath was sour and disgusting. He uttered grunt after grunt.

  “Let go!” I screamed. I brought both hands up and shoved him hard under his beard.

  It caught him by surprise. His hands fell away.

  I gave him another hard shove. It sent him toppling into his partner.

  They both made awkward grabs for me. But I dodged away. And then I ran, faster than I’d ever run.

  My feet slid on McClatchy’s lawn, and then pounded the driveway. I ran through the blackness of the night. Not seeing anything. Not thinking. Just moving on fear and shock.

  I crossed the street, panting hard. I started up my front lawn.

  I could hear them behind me, chattering as they chased after me. I heard the clatter of their boots on the pavement. Then the pounding of footsteps as they ran over the grass.

  I froze in panic. Then forced myself to move.

  I leaped onto my front porch. If I could only get through the front door, into the house, I’d be safe.

  I grabbed the door handle — then screamed in horror.

  Two other lawn gnomes came charging at me from either side of the porch. They dove at me, lowering their shoulders, trying to tackle me around the knees.

  With a cry, I leaped back. They thudded hard against each other, cracking heads.

  “Oh, nooo!”

  I uttered a cry as I saw McClatchy’s gnomes running up my front lawn. And two more gnomes from my other neighbor. And a whole bunch of them from down the street.

  All running. All grunting. All heading for me.

  Their pointed caps tilted toward me as they ran. Their hands were outstretched, ready to grab me.

  They chattered and whistled and cried out in a language I never heard before. Like the chatter of birds.

  I spun away. Started to the right. No. More gnomes closing in on me. With another cry, I spun to the left.

  No escape. No escape from them.

  I was trapped. They formed a circle around me — a dozen of them. No — more! The circle tightened. Chattering and whistling, the gnomes closed in on me.

  “Get away!” I screamed. “Stay away from me, you little freaks!”

  The gnomes ignored my screams. They tightened the circle till I could barely breathe. Then two lawn gnomes grabbed my arms and twisted them back.

  I couldn’t move. For such little guys, they were incredibly strong.

  The gnomes from McClatchy’s yard strode up to me. In the dim light, I saw that one of them held something behind his back.

  “Wh-what is that?” I stammered. “What are you going to do?”

  A cold smile spread over his face as he moved closer. His putrid breath floated over me. It almost made me gag.

  What is he hiding behind his back? What is he going to do to me?

  He giggled and raised his arm. He had the black marker in his hand.

  “Stop!” I cried. “Let me go!”

  But our porch gnomes held me in place, my arms tightly behind my back. McClatchy’s gnome raised the marker and began to scrape it against my forehead.

  I could feel the lines he drew. I knew they formed an M.

  Why an M? What does that stand for?

  McClatchy?

  No. I guessed wrong.

  “Malfunction,” the gnome rasped in his scratchy, high voice.

  “Malfunction,” the gnomes all repeated.

  “Malfunction. Malfunction.”

  They giggled and bumped each other’s shoulders. Like a gnome high five.

  “What are you saying?” I cried. “Why are you saying that?”

  They giggled some more and bumped shoulders.

  With a cry, I burst forward — and broke free. I took off, running hard.

  I could hear them chattering like birds and giggling behind me. I glanced back. They weren’t chasing after me.

  I hurled myself along the side of the house. Turned at the back and shoved open the kitchen door. Gasping, I bolted inside and slammed the door hard behind me.

  I pressed my back against the kitchen door and listened. I couldn’t hear them now. Were they still hanging out in my front yard? No way to tell.

  My heart was pounding. I took a deep breath and held it, but that didn’t help. Drops of sweat rolled down my forehead.

  I pushed away from the door and strode quickly into the living room. Mom and Dad turned to me from the center of the room. They both squinted at me.

  “Jay, were you outside?” Dad demanded.

  “We thought you were in your room,” Mom said. “You know you’re not supposed to go outside after dark.”

  “I … I know,” I stammered. “But —”

  “I’m very disappointed in you,” Dad said, shaking his head. “You promised you would follow the rules here. And instead …”

  “Lawn gnomes!” I cried. “Listen to me. You’ve got to hear what happened to me!”

  They glanced at each other, then turned back to me. “What’s that mark on your forehead?” Mom asked. “It looks like an M.”

  “Please,” I begged. “Listen to me. Outside, there were lawn gnomes. Dozens of them. And they came to life. Really. They chased me across the street. They put this M on my forehead.”

  They stared at me without moving or speaking.

  “I’m not making this up,” I said breathlessly. “The lawn gnomes came to life. They grabbed me. They choked me. You’ve got to believe me. I saw them. Please — believe me.”

  I stood there, breathing hard. My heart pounded so fast, my chest hurt.

  “Of course we believe you,” Dad said finally. “Of course the lawn gnomes came alive. Of course they chased you.”

  “What did you expect?” Mom said.

 
I stared at them both in disbelief.

  Am I losing my mind?

  Mom and Dad refused to say another word about it. They said it was too late at night to talk. I begged them to explain. But they said it could wait till morning. They ordered me up to my room.

  The next morning, I hurried down to breakfast so they could explain about the lawn gnomes. But Dad gave me a half-hour lecture instead. He was angry and upset. He hardly let me get a word in.

  “Jay, you promised,” he said. “You know perfectly well that no one goes out at night. Yet you decided for some reason —”

  “I had to go out,” I started. “I —”

  “You’re not supposed to break the rules, Jay. And the rule is to stay indoors at night. But you chose not to pay any attention to it.”

  I lowered my head. “Yeah, you’re right about that,” I murmured. “But I had a good reason. Mr. McClatchy —”

  Dad frowned at me. “Jay, we talked about not causing trouble with the neighbors. You promised you would stop playing jokes on people.”

  “But he kicked Mr. Phineas.”

  “I don’t care what Mr. McClatchy did,” Dad said. “We are talking about you. Are you going to obey the rules here and stop getting in trouble?” He moved his face close to mine.

  I had no choice. “Yes,” I said. “Yes. I promise, Dad. From now on, I’ll be perfect.”

  I meant it, too. I didn’t have my fingers crossed or anything.

  I decided it might be a lot easier to be good. And it definitely would be easier to stay out of trouble.

  Dad took his coffee cup into the other room. I heard a cough. I turned and saw Elliot, the kid from the quagmire, standing at the kitchen door.

  “Hey,” I said. I felt embarrassed. How much did he hear? Did he hear Dad’s whole lecture to me?

  “How’s it going?” Elliot asked. “Did you get in trouble for losing your bike?”

  I shook my head. “No. I got in trouble for something else,” I said.

  Maybe Elliot can tell me what’s up with the lawn gnomes coming to life.

  “Come up to my room,” I said. I led him upstairs.

  “Nice house,” he said in his gruff voice.

  “It’s okay,” I replied.

  We stepped into my room. I had a lot of chemicals open and equipment strewn over my lab table. He glanced at it, then perched on the edge of my bed.