How to Scare the Pants Off Your Pets

by Henry Winkler

  “How much is he?” Billy asked Daisy. “I only have twelve dollars and forty-three cents.”

  “That is amazing,” Daisy exclaimed, clapping her chubby hands together in delight, “because this particular gecko is on sale this week for exactly that amount!”

  “What about his tank?” Billy asked.

  “If you promise to take good care of my little Berko, I’ll throw that in for free. Plus, two delicious crickets that will last him for one week.”

  “I can’t thank you enough for this deal,” Billy said to Daisy.

  “I’m always happy to find a good home for one of my little darlings,” Daisy said. “You have to promise to come back soon and tell me how Berko and your friend are getting along.”

  Daisy transferred Berko, his water dish, his green branch, and a plastic rock cave into a smaller glass tank, and then walked up and down the aisles so that Berko could say good-bye to all of his creature friends.

  “Everyone wish him well,” she called out, and hearing that, Robert burst into a chorus of “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.” Berko wasn’t going to San Francisco, but try explaining that to a parrot.

  As Billy walked home carrying the tank, he wanted to explain to Berko what he was about to encounter. Of course, he knew a fat-tailed gecko wouldn’t understand what he was saying, but he thought maybe Berko could pick up something from his tone of voice.

  “The Hoove is a ghost,” he said slowly and patiently as he walked down Moorepark Avenue, past the dry cleaners and Hugo’s taco stand. “He can have a bit of an attitude, so just be really friendly and give him time to adjust to you.”

  Some of the customers at Hugo’s were giving Billy strange looks, so he stopped talking. When he reached his house, he took Berko in through the back door so he could go directly to his room undetected.

  “Hoove,” he whispered as he kicked the door open with his foot. “Are you here? I’ve got an amazing surprise for you!”

  Billy looked around and didn’t see anything but the new blue walls and an open window. As he put the tank down on top of his desk, he heard the whistling of “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” and one second later, half of the Hoove appeared perched on the windowsill. It was as if he was split right down the center. He looked at Billy with one eye, which was the only one that was visible, and spoke out of only one side of his mouth.

  “It’s about time you got back,” he said.

  “Why is there only half of you?” Billy asked.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s these paint fumes. I know you think that all I have to do is whistle ‘I’ve Been Working on the Railroad’ and I materialize. But it’s not that easy. It takes concentration, and I really think these fumes are interfering with my ability to focus.”

  “Well, it’s highly weird looking at only half of you.”

  “Hey, half of me is better than the whole of most people.”

  “If you do say so yourself.”

  “I just did. So what’s the big surprise?”

  “You’re going to thank me, Hoove, for what I am about to do for you. I have a plan that is not only going to get you ungrounded, but could just get you an A in Responsibility to Others.”

  “I could use an A. Spill it, Shorty. What-cha got?”

  “This,” Billy answered, reaching into the tank and gently lifting Berko out of it. He put the little gecko in the palm of his hand and started across the room so the Hoove could get a clear look. When he got to the windowsill, he held his hand right up to the Hoove’s face. He wanted to get close because he wasn’t sure if having only one eye visible meant that the Hoove could only see half a gecko.

  Instantaneously, the other half of the Hoove appeared, and the look of sheer horror on his face said it all. Screaming, the Hoove zoomed off the windowsill and rocketed across the room, zipping right through the closet door. Billy and Berko swiveled their heads in unison.

  “Get that thing away from me!” the Hoove yelled from the closet. His muffled voice sounded more scared than Billy had ever heard it before.

  “It’s just a little gecko,” Billy called. “I got it for you to take care of. To show the Higher-Ups that you can put someone else’s needs before yours.”

  “I’m not taking care of that thing. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”

  “What’s your problem?”

  “My problem is that I’m allergic to lizards.”

  “You mean they make you itch or give you red bumpy things on your upper arms?”

  “No. It means I dislike them intensely.”

  “Come on out, Hoove. This is Berko. You’ll like him.”

  “Is he a lizard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, I don’t like him. And I never will. As long as he’s out there, I’m staying in here.”

  Billy felt frustration rising in his voice, but he tried to remain calm. He knew that if he exploded at the Hoove, his plan would fail completely. He tried to take the logical route.

  “Listen, Hoove. There is nothing scary about this gecko. He gets along well with others, he’s a good sleeper, and enjoys an occasional cricket.”

  “That’s it,” the Hoove shouted from the closet. “Not another word, especially about chewable crickets. Thank him very much for coming, he was a real sport about it. And give him my very best wishes as he goes back to whatever cave he crawled out of.”

  Billy looked down at Berko, who seemed so sweet and innocent. The poor little guy had no idea what had just happened. And Billy had no idea how he was going to explain to Daisy that he wasn’t going to be able to keep Berko.

  “Hoove, I really think you should get to know him,” Billy coaxed. “He has very soulful eyes.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Billy opened the closet door and found the Hoove tucked inside the pocket of his navy blue winter parka. Only his head and one arm were hanging out — the rest of him was snuggled neatly inside.

  “Here,” Billy said, thrusting Berko in front of the Hoove’s startled eyes. “I dare you to look at him and tell me you don’t love him.”

  Berko stared up at the Hoove and flicked his tongue out in a friendly gesture. A look of total disgust flashed across the Hoove’s face, and suddenly, a tangy orange smell filled the closet. Berko’s nostrils flared as he took in the scent. He must have liked it because instantly he squirmed out of Billy’s hand and sprang over to the parka, landing right next to the pocket that held the Hoove. Billy tried to grab him, but Berko was too fast. He scurried up the fabric, climbed over the edge, and disappeared into the depths of the pocket.

  “Yowee kazowee!” the Hoove bellowed. “This lizard is setting up camp in my underwear! Either he goes or I go.”

  “Get back here right now, Berko,” Billy called. “This is no way to make a good first impression!”

  “First impression, second impression, last impression,” the Hoove said. “There is no good impression. That is final. I have spoken.”

  And with that, he zoomed out of the parka pocket and took off across the room, flapping his arms and legs as if the little lizard was still attached to him. He was in full-fledged panic mode.

  Billy knew that he had lost the argument. There was no doubt that the Hoove was permanently finished with the gecko conversation and had nothing more to contribute other than flapping limbs and a sour orange smell that filled the room with tangy displeasure.

  With great sadness, Billy reached into the pocket, found Berko, and placed him back into his little tank. He hated the idea of taking him back to Daisy’s, but he could see no other alternative. The Hoove was hovering in the corner of the room giving off nasty fumes and shouting, “This is a gecko-free zone! This is a gecko-free zone!”

  “Okay, okay,” Billy said as he headed out the door. “I heard you the first time.”

  He left the house and walked down the front path, where he was stopped by another member of the Brownstone family, Rod the Clod, who was wheeling his bike into their garage.

  “What are you car
rying there, Broccoli?” Rod said in his usual snarky tone of voice. “Your knitting?”

  “Actually, Rod, it’s none of your business.”

  “Everything in this neighborhood is my business. I observe, take notes, and I report unusual events to the proper authorities. As a matter of fact, I just reported Mrs. Pearson because one tire of her electric lawn mower was on the sidewalk.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “The sidewalk is public property, Broccoli, and we all have to protect it.”

  “But Mrs. Pearson is such a nice person. She keeps Hershey Kisses in her pocket for all the kids in the neighborhood.”

  “Yeah, and most of the time they’re melted. Besides, the law doesn’t recognize Hershey’s Kisses. The law is the law, and if you break even the tiniest fraction of it, the entire neighborhood will crumble. So like I was saying, what do you have in that box?”

  “It’s not a box, it’s a tank,” Billy said, turning it around so Rod could see into it. “It happens to contain a fat-tailed African gecko that was my pet for the last seven and a half minutes.”

  Berko scurried right up to the glass pane and stared at Brownstone, who dropped his bike and backed up so fast his sneakers practically left skid marks on the cement. He tried to contain the scream that was living right at the back of his throat, so the noise that came out of his mouth sounded like a sorry little whimper that even a four-year-old wouldn’t make.

  “What’s your problem, Brownstone?” Billy asked. “You afraid of a little gecko? They don’t even have teeth. What do you think, he’s going to gum you to death?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” Rod snapped. “I’m on the football team. I knock down guys twice my size. I look fear right in the eyes and say, ‘Rod Brownstone is coming for you.’”

  “Well, then, come say hello to Berko.”

  Brownstone shifted uncomfortably. The last thing he wanted to do was let Billy Broccoli see any weakness in him. Puffing up his chest and trying to look as casual as possible, he sauntered very slowly in the direction of the lizard tank. When Berko saw him, the little gecko flicked out his tongue in his usual friendly gesture.

  “Eeeekkk!” Rod screamed before he could stop himself. “That thing is vicious.” He waved his hands so wildly in the air that he knocked the tank out of Billy’s hands and it tumbled onto the lawn. The screen covering the top flew off, and before Billy could put it back on, Berko scurried out and disappeared into the grass.

  “Now look what you’ve done, Brownstone,” he shouted, dropping to his knees and crawling around on all fours in the grass. “Don’t just stand there. You can at least help me find him. I have to return him to the pet store.”

  “That thing was ready to attack,” Brownstone said. “You better find him and get him off my property or I’m calling the police!”

  “What? To file a missing gecko report?”

  “No, to alert the authorities that a menace is on the loose. He could be terrorizing an innocent victim at this very moment.”

  Billy heard a rustling in the hedge nearby.

  “Berko, is that you, fella?” he called softly. “Don’t be scared. I’m coming for you.” Billy dropped to his knees and parted the bushes with his hand, but what he saw lurking inside was in no way a gecko. It was a fat gray-and-white cat slinking around in the shade of the leaves. The cat looked at him and hissed in a definitely unfriendly way.

  “Hey, Brownstone,” Billy said. “Do cats eat geckos?”

  “How should I know?” Brownstone answered. “But I’ll tell you one thing. That cat will eat anything. It’s always wandering around here looking for food. I should have it arrested for loitering.”

  Billy looked closely at the cat, trying to determine if it had eaten Berko. It did seem awfully fat around the middle, but at least he wasn’t licking his chops as if he had just finished a meal.

  “You better not have hurt him,” Billy said. The cat just looked at him in a suspicious way and pawed at the air, as if understanding that Billy was making a terrible accusation. There was a long silence as Billy pondered the awful possibility. He felt his stomach flip.

  “Hi, guys,” came a sweet voice from behind them. Billy was so startled, he whirled around and lost his balance, landing face-first in the grass. It was Ruby Baker walking with her sister, Sophia, to Billy’s house for band practice. Sophia was the bass player in Breeze’s band, and sometimes Ruby came along to hang out at their rehearsals. Ruby was the most popular girl in the sixth grade, and both Billy and Rod secretly had a crush on her. But Ruby was unaware of their admiring gazes, because she was looking in the palm of her hand.

  “Look what I just found,” she said.

  Billy glanced at her cupped hand … which held none other than the escaped Berko.

  “You found him!” Billy cried, relief filling his body. He jumped up to his feet as fast as he could.

  “Yeah, you did,” Rod said weakly, dropping to his knees out of fear.

  “What are you doing on your knees?” Ruby asked him.

  “Tying my shoelaces,” he answered far too quickly.

  “But they’re already tied.”

  “I’m just making sure that the knot is as tight as possible. You can’t be too careful.”

  “Listen, kids,” Sophia said. “Not to interrupt your fascinating shoelace conversation, but I’ll see you inside. I have bigger emotional issues to explore than double knots. Breeze and I are writing a new song today about treading water in the dark river of love.”

  As Sophia headed inside, Billy grabbed the gecko tank from the lawn and took it over to Ruby.

  “You are a lifesaver,” he said. “Or I should say a gecko-saver. For a minute, I thought a cat had eaten him.”

  “Oh, that would have been horrible!”

  “I know. I’m so happy to see you, Berko.”

  “Oh, what a cute name.” Ruby giggled. “I had a gecko once. Her name was Harmony.”

  “Did she dine on crickets like Berko does?”

  “Totally. Harmony was a real chowhound. I mean, she’d gobble up three crickets a week. I had to put her on a diet because she started looking like a mini Chihuahua.”

  Feeling left out of the conversation, Rod jumped in with a major fib.

  “Yeah, well I had a gecko, too,” he said. “And mine ate four crickets a week. He looked like a mini pit bull.”

  “Oh really?” Ruby said while she gently stroked Berko on his head with her index finger. “What was his name?”

  “Uh …” Rod stammered. “Uh … he was so tough, he didn’t need a name. I just called him Him.”

  Billy knew Rod made up that story just to impress Ruby. No one would ever be that afraid of lizards and geckos if they had actually had one. He couldn’t resist the urge to show Rod up for the phony he was.

  “Why don’t you come over and give Berko a pet or two? I’m sure he would like to say good-bye to you before he goes back to the pet store.”

  Ruby put her hand out to Rod.

  “You can even hold him, if you want.”

  When Brownstone saw Ruby and Berko coming toward him, he turned a sickly shade of green. Billy thought he saw a few beads of perspiration break out on the tip of his nose.

  “Hey, I’d love to hold him, really.” Rod gulped. “I’m a big lizard lover at heart. But I hear my mom calling. And you don’t know my mom, but she’s got a temper that goes off like a volcano. I’ve got to go before she erupts.”

  And turning on his cowardly heels, Rod barreled across the lawn and flew into the safety of his house.

  “Something tells me he’s scared of this harmless little guy,” Ruby said.

  “Maybe he’s not as tough as he pretends to be,” Billy said.

  Ruby shrugged.

  “Boys are so strange,” she said to Berko. “But not you. You’re a little cutie.”

  Billy held the tank up to her, and she gently placed Berko back inside. He must have liked being in there because he scurried happily i
nto the safety of his plastic cave.

  “He’s probably thinking about how strange all us humans are,” Billy said. “I bet he’ll be glad to get back to his animal friends at the pet shop.”

  “Why are you taking him back?” Ruby asked.

  “He didn’t exactly get along with my family.”

  Ruby nodded. “I can see that,” she said. “Breeze doesn’t seem like the type of girl who’d relate to any creature who doesn’t wear sequined boots.”

  “Hey,” Billy said. “Do you want to come with me to the pet store?”

  Suddenly, when he realized that he had actually asked Ruby to come along, his face turned bright red. “I mean, you probably don’t want to come,” he added quickly, “but if you do, you can. Come along, I mean.”

  “Sure,” Ruby said with a laugh. “It’s better than falling into the dark river of love. Can I carry Berko?”

  “No problem,” Billy answered, handing her the tank. “He really likes you.”

  It was a ten minute walk to Fur ’N Feathers, but to Billy, it seemed like it only took thirty seconds. Ruby was so easy to talk to. She chatted about her cross-country meets, about their English teacher, Mr. Wallwetter, and how she thought his thin little mustache looked like a plucked eyebrow on his upper lip. Everything she said made Billy laugh. Billy told Ruby about Daisy and her pet parrot, Robert, who liked to croon songs they played on oldies radio stations. Ruby couldn’t wait to meet them both.

  When they reached Fur ’N Feathers, Daisy was busy feeding alfalfa to the bunnies, gerbils, and hamsters. Robert announced their arrival.

  “Crab cakes!” he squawked.

  Daisy looked over to the door and broke into a huge smile when she saw Billy and Ruby.

  “Oh, don’t mind Robert,” she said. “He always calls customers he likes crab cakes. I think it’s because I got him from Frankie’s Fried Fish Stand, where he lived for ten years. If he doesn’t like you, he’ll call you an oyster. And if he can’t stand you, you’re tartar sauce … and you better watch out!”