by R. L. Stine
“Great joke, guys,” I said, forcing a hoarse laugh. “You fooled us. Way to go. So now let us go home, okay?”
“Yeah. Let us go home!” Moose insisted.
The whole room erupted in laughter.
Hap shook his head. “But the mischief has just begun!” he declared.
Cheers and giggles.
Chip turned to the crowd of excited gnomes. “So what shall we do with our lovely prisoners? Any ideas?”
“Let’s see if they bounce!” a gnome called from near the back of the room.
“Yeah! Dribble them!”
“A dribbling contest!”
“No—bounce them against the wall. Bounce and catch!”
More cheers.
“No! Fold them into tiny squares! I love it when we fold humans into squares!”
“Yes! A folding contest!” another gnome cried.
“Fold them! Fold them! Fold them!” several gnomes began to chant.
“Tickle them!” a gnome in front suggested.
“Tickle them for hours!”
“Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!”
The room rang out with their excited chants.
“Fold them! Fold them! Fold them!”
“Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!”
“Dribble! Dribble! Dribble! Dribble!”
I turned to Moose. He stared out at the crowd of chanting gnomes, dazed and frightened. His eyes bulged and his chin quivered.
Mindy had her back pressed up against the basement wall. Her blond hair was matted to her forehead. Her hands were jammed into the pockets of her bathrobe.
“What are we going to do?” she asked me, shouting over the excited chants.
Suddenly I had an idea.
I raised my arms high over my head. “Quiet!” I screamed.
The room instantly grew silent. Hundreds of red eyes glared at me.
“Let us go!” I demanded. “Or the three of us will scream at the top of our lungs. We will wake up Mrs. Anderson. And she will be down here in a second to rescue us!”
Silence.
Had I frightened them?
No. The gnomes burst into loud, scornful laughter. They slapped each other’s shoulders, hooted, and giggled.
“You’ll have to do better than that!” Hap grinned up at me. “We all know that Mrs. Anderson can’t hear a thing.”
“Go ahead and shout,” Chip urged. “Shout all you want. We like it when humans shout.” He turned to Hap, and the two of them slapped each other’s shoulders and fell on the floor, giggling gleefully, kicking their feet in the air.
Over the vast basement, the chants started up again.
“Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!”
“Fold them! Fold them! Fold them!”
“Dribble! Dribble! Dribble!”
With a long sigh, I turned to my frightened sister and friend. “We’re doomed,” I muttered. “We don’t have a chance.”
25
“Tug of War! Tug of War!”
A new chant started in the back of the room and swept up toward the front.
“Yes!” Hap and Chip declared happily.
“Excellent mischief!” Hap cried.
“A Tug of War! We’ll tug them till they stretch!” Chip shouted.
“Stretch them! Stretch them!”
“Tug of War! Tug of War!”
“Joe—what are we going to do?” I heard Mindy’s frightened voice over the enthusiastic chants.
Think, Joe, I urged myself. Think! There has to be a way out of this basement.
But I felt so dazed. The chants rang in my ears. The grinning faces leered up at us. My thoughts were a jumbled mess.
“Stretch them! Stretch them!”
“Fold them! Fold them!”
“Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!”
Suddenly, over the shrill gnome voices, I heard a familiar sound.
A dog’s bark.
Buster’s bark.
“Buster!” Mindy cried. “I hear him!”
“I—I did too!” I exclaimed, turning and raising my eyes to the window above our heads. “He followed us! He must be right outside!”
I desperately wished Buster could talk. Could run home and tell Mom and Dad that we were in terrible trouble.
But he could only bark. Or… could he do more?
I suddenly remembered how frightened Hap and Chip appeared whenever Buster came around. The terrified expressions on their faces.
My heart fluttered with hope. Maybe the gnomes are afraid of dogs. Maybe Buster can scare them into letting us go. Maybe he can even frighten them back into their trance.
I edged closer to my sister, my back pressed against the wall. “Mindy, I think the gnomes are afraid of Buster. If we get him down here, I think he can save us.”
We didn’t hesitate. All three of us started shouting up to the window. “Buster! Buster! Come here, boy!”
Could he hear us over the chanting gnomes?
Yes!
His big head peered down at us through the window.
“Good boy!” I cried. “Now, come here. Come down here, Buster!”
Buster’s mouth opened. His pink tongue drooped from his mouth, and he started to pant.
“Good doggie!” I crooned. “Good doggie—come down here. Fast! Come, boy! Come, Buster!”
Buster poked his head into the window. And yawned.
“Down, Buster!” Mindy ordered. “Come down here, boy!”
He pulled his head out of the window. And settled down on the ground outside. I could see his head resting on his paws.
“No, Buster!” I shrieked, shouting over the chants. “Come, boy! Don’t lie down! Come! Buster, come!”
“Rowf?” He pushed his head back into the window. Farther. Farther.
“That a boy! Come on!” I pleaded. “A little more… a little more. If you come down here, I’ll feed you doggie treats five times a day.”
Buster cocked his head to the side and sniffed at the damp, sweaty air of the basement.
I held my arms out to the dog. “Please, Buster. You’re our last chance. Please—hurry! Come down here.”
To my dismay, Buster pulled his head out of the window.
Turned.
And trotted away.
26
Mindy and Moose let out long, disappointed sighs. “Buster deserted us,” Mindy said softly. Her shoulders sagged. Moose dropped to his knees on the floor, shaking his head.
“Trampoline! Trampoline!”
The chant had changed.
Hap grinned up at us. “Maybe we’ll use you for trampolines! That would be fun!”
“It’s almost time for a vote!” Chip added, rubbing his hands together eagerly.
“Trampoline! Trampoline!”
“Tug of War! Tug of War!”
I held my hands over my ears, trying to block out the sound of their shrill voices.
Silence. Please let me have silence, I thought.
Silence.
The word gave me an idea.
Silence. Buster’s dog whistle was silent!
Suddenly, I knew how to bring Buster back!
“Mindy!” I cried “The dog whistle! Buster always comes when I blow the dog whistle!”
Mindy raised her head and brightened. “That’s right!” she cried. “Hurry, Joe!”
I grabbed for the shiny metal whistle under my T-shirt. It felt slippery with sweat. This has to work, I thought to myself. It has to bring Buster back.
I pulled the whistle out.
“The whistle!” several gnomes shrieked.
The room instantly grew silent.
I raised the whistle to my lips.
“Quick—blow it!” Mindy screeched.
To my surprise, Hap and Chip both dove at me.
They leaped up and slapped at the whistle.
The whistle spun out of my hands.
“Noooo!” I cried in despair.
I grabbed frantically for it.
But it rolled and tumbled away, sliding across the bas
ement floor.
27
Mindy, Moose, and I all dove for it.
But the gnomes were quicker.
A gnome in a bright blue shirt raised the whistle, clutched tightly in his little fist. “I’ve got it!”
“No, you don’t!” Moose cried. He leaped at the gnome. Tackled him around the knees.
The gnome let out a yelp as he went toppling to the floor.
The dog whistle fell from his hand.
And bounced across the hard floor toward me.
I scooped it up. Started to raise it to my lips.
Three gnomes leaped onto my shoulders, giggling and grunting.
“Noooo!” I uttered a cry as they batted the whistle from my hand. I dropped to the floor, three gnomes on top of me.
I finally shook them off and jumped to my feet. My eyes searched for the whistle.
I saw a bunch of gnomes diving for the floor, scrambling for it. A few feet away, Moose struggled against four or five gnomes who had formed a line to block him. Mindy was battling another group of gnomes, who held her back, their tiny hands around her legs and waist.
And then I saw Hap raise the whistle high.
The gnomes stepped back, clearing a circle around him.
Hap set the whistle in front of him on the floor. Then he raised his foot high.
He was about to crush it!
“Noooooo!” Another long cry escaped my throat. I scrambled over the floor, half-crawling, half-flying.
As Hap’s heavy plaster foot came down, I stretched out my hand.
Fumbled for the whistle.
Grabbed it.
Rolled away as the gnome’s foot tromped down heavily. It thudded inches from my head.
I sat up. Raised the whistle to my lips.
And blew as hard as I could.
Now what?
Would the whistle work?
Would Buster come running to rescue us?
28
I blew the silent whistle again.
And turned to the window. Buster, where are you?
The gnomes must have been asking the same question. Because they froze in place, too. The excited chattering, giggling, and chanting stopped.
The only sound I could hear was my own shallow breathing.
I stared up at the window. A rectangle of blackness. No sign of Buster.
“Hey—!” Moose’s cry made me turn around.
“Look at them!” Moose’s voice echoed through the silence.
“Look—they all froze!” Mindy declared. She placed both hands on the red cap of a gnome—and pushed the gnome over.
It clattered to the floor. And didn’t move. A hunk of plaster.
“I don’t get it!” Moose scratched his crew cut.
Still gripping the dog whistle tightly, I moved around the room, examining the frozen gnomes, pushing them over. Enjoying the silence.
“Back in their trance state,” Mindy murmured.
“But how?” Moose demanded. “Buster never showed up. If they weren’t terrified of the dog, why did they all freeze up again?”
I suddenly knew the answer. I raised the whistle and blew it again. “It was the whistle,” I explained. “It wasn’t Buster. I had it wrong. They were afraid of the whistle. Not the dog.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Mindy said softly. “I never want to see another lawn gnome as long as I live.”
“Wait till I tell my parents about this!” Moose declared.
“Whoa!” I cried, grabbing his shoulder. “We can’t tell anyone about this. No way!”
“Why not?” he demanded.
“Because no one will believe it,” I replied.
Moose stared at me for a long moment. “You’re right,” he agreed finally. “You’re definitely right.”
Mindy moved to the wall and stared up at the window. “How do we get out of here?”
“I know how,” I told her. I picked up Hap and Chip and stood them beneath the window. Then I climbed onto their caps, lifted my hands to the window, and pulled myself up. “Thanks for the boost, guys!” I called down.
They didn’t reply.
I hoped they were frozen for good.
Mindy and Moose followed me out. Of course, Buster was waiting for us in the yard. His stubby tail began to wag as soon as I appeared. He came running over and licked my face till I was sopping wet and sticky.
“Sorry, fella. You’re a little late,” I told him. “You weren’t much help—were you!”
He licked me some more. Then he greeted Mindy and Moose.
“Yaaaay! We’re out! We’re out!” Moose cried. He slapped me so hard on the back, I thought my teeth were going to fly out!
I turned to my sister. “Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!” I chanted.
“Give me a break!” Mindy cried, rolling her eyes for the thousandth time that day.
“Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!” I made tickling motions with my hands and started to chase her down the street.
“Joe—stop it! Don’t tickle me! I’m warning you!”
“Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!”
I knew I’d never forget those high-pitched chants. I knew I’d hear them in my dreams for a long, long time.
The next evening, Mindy and I were watching MTV in the den when Dad came home. “Be nice to your dad,” Mom had warned us earlier. “He’s very upset that somebody stole his two lawn gnomes.”
Yes, the two gnomes were missing when he woke up.
Big surprise.
Mindy and I were so happy, we didn’t have a single argument all day.
And now we were happy to see Dad—except that he had a strange expression on his face. “Uh… I’ve brought home a little surprise,” he announced, glancing guiltily at Mom.
“Now what?” she demanded.
“Come and see.” Dad led us out to the front lawn.
The sun was disappearing behind the trees, and the sky was gray. But I could still see clearly what Dad had purchased at Lawn Lovely this time.
An enormous, brown plaster gorilla!
At least eight feet tall, with gigantic black eyes and a bright purple chest. The gorilla had paws the size of baseball mitts and a head as big as a basketball.
“It’s the ugliest thing I ever saw!” Mom cried, both hands pressed to her face. “You’re not really going to put that horrible monster on our front lawn—are you, dear?”
Anything is better than those lawn gnomes, I thought. Anything is better than lawn gnomes who come alive and do terrible mischief.
I glanced at Mindy. I had a feeling she was thinking the same thing.
“I think it’s a beauty, Dad,” I said. “It’s the best-looking lawn gorilla I ever saw!”
“It’s great, Dad,” Mindy agreed.
Dad smiled.
Mom turned and hurried back to the house, shaking her head.
I glanced up at the gorilla’s enormous purple-and-brown painted face. “Be a good gorilla,” I murmured. “Don’t be like those awful gnomes.”
Then, as I started to turn away, the gorilla winked at me.
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