انتقام کوتوله های حیاط فصل 06

Revenge of the Lawn Gnomes - Chapter 6

“Can’t we drive, Dad?” Mindy complained as the three of us hiked up the steep Summit Avenue hill toward Lawn Lovely. “It’s too hot to walk.” “Oh, come on, Mindy. It’s only a couple of blocks. And it’s good exercise,” Dad replied, taking long, brisk strides.

“But it’s sooooo hot,” Mindy whined. She brushed her bangs away from her face and blotted her forehead with her hand.

Mindy was right. It was hot. But get serious. It was only a two-block walk.

“I’m hotter than you are,” I teased. Then I leaned into Mindy and shook my sweaty head at her. “See?” A few small beads of sweat flew onto Mindy’s T-shirt.

“You are so gross!” she shrieked, drawing back. “Dad! Tell him to stop being so disgusting.” “We’re almost there,” Dad replied. His voice sounded as if he were a million miles away. He was probably dreaming about buying his next lawn ornament.

Just up the block, I spotted the tall, pointy roof of Lawn Lovely. It jutted into the sky, towering over all the houses around it.

What a weird place, I thought. Lawn Lovely is in an old, raggedy three-story house, set back from the street. The whole building is painted pink. Bright pink. The windows are covered with brightly colored shutters. But none of the colors match.

I think that’s another reason why Mindy hates this place.

The old house is not in good shape. The wooden floorboards on the front porch are all sagging. And there is a hole in the porch where Mr. McCall fell through last summer.

As we marched past the flagpole in the front yard, I spotted Mrs. Anderson in the driveway. She owns Lawn Lovely. She lives there, too. On the second and third floors.

Mrs. Anderson kneeled over a flock of pink plastic flamingos. She was ripping off their plastic wrap and setting them in crooked rows on her lawn.

Mrs. Anderson reminds me of a flamingo. She’s real skinny and wears pink all the time. Even her hair is sort of pink. Like cotton candy.

Lawn ornaments are the only things Mrs. Anderson sells. Plaster squirrels. Kissing angels. Pink rabbits with wire whiskers. Long green worms wearing little black hats. A whole flock of white geese. She has hundreds of ornaments. Scattered all over her yard. Up the front steps to the porch. And right through the door into the entire first floor of the house.

Mrs. Anderson carefully unwrapped another flamingo and set it down next to a deer. She studied this arrangement, then moved the deer about an inch to the left.

“Hello, Lilah!” my dad called out.

Mrs. Anderson didn’t answer. She’s a little hard of hearing.

“Hello, Lilah!” Dad repeated, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone.

Mrs. Anderson raised her head from the flamingos. And beamed at my dad. “Jeffrey!” she cried. “How nice to see you.” Mrs. Anderson is always friendly to Dad. Mom says he’s her best customer.

Maybe her only customer!

“It’s nice to see you, too,” Dad replied. He rubbed his hands together eagerly and gazed around the lawn.

Mrs. Anderson stuck one last flamingo into the ground. She made her way over to us, wiping her hands on her pink T-shirt.

“Do you have something special in mind today?” she asked my father.

“Our deer is a little lonesome,” he explained, shouting so that she could hear him. “I think it needs company.” “Really, Dad. We don’t need any more lawn ornaments,” Mindy begged. “Mom will be furious.” Mrs. Anderson smiled. “Oh, a Lawn Lovely lawn always has room for one more! Right, Jeffrey?”

“Right!” Dad declared.

Mindy pressed her lips together tightly. She rolled her eyes for the hundredth time that day.

Dad hurried over to a herd of wide-eyed plaster deer, standing in the corner of the yard. We followed him.

The deer stood about four feet tall. White spots dotted their reddish-brown bodies.

Very lifelike. Very boring.

He studied the deer for a few seconds. Then something caught his eye.

Two squat gnomes standing in the middle of the lawn.

“Well, well, what have we here?” Dad murmured, smiling. I could see his eyes light up. He bent down to examine the gnomes.

Mrs. Anderson clapped her hands together. “Jeffrey, you have a wonderful eye for lawn ornaments!” she exclaimed. “I knew you’d appreciate the gnomes! They were made in Europe. Very fine work.” I stared at the gnomes. They looked like little old men. They were about three feet tall and very chubby. With piercing red eyes and large pointy ears.

Their mouths curved up in wide, silly grins. And coarse brown hair sprouted from their heads.

Each gnome wore a bright green short-sleeved shirt, brown leggings, and a tall, pointy orange hat. Both wore black belts tied tightly around their chubby waists.

“They’re terrific!” Dad gushed. “Oh, kids. Aren’t they wonderful?”

“They’re okay, Dad,” I said.

“Okay?” Mindy shouted. “They’re horrible! They’re so gross! They look so… so evil. I hate them!” “Hey, you’re right, Mindy,” I said. “They are pretty gross. They look just like you!”

“Joe, you are the biggest—” Mindy started. But Dad interrupted her.

“We’ll take them!” he cried.

“Dad—no!” Mindy howled. “They’re hideous! Buy a deer. Buy another flamingo. But not these ugly old gnomes. Look at the awful colors. Look at those evil grins. They’re too creepy!” “Oh, Mindy. Don’t be silly. They’re perfect!” Dad exclaimed. “We’ll have so much fun with them. We’ll dress them as ghosts for Halloween. In Santa suits at Christmas. They look just like Santa’s elves.” Dad pulled out his credit card. He and Mrs. Anderson started toward the pink house to complete the sale. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he called.

“These are the ugliest yet,” Mindy groaned, turning to me. “They’re completely embarrassing. I’ll never be able to bring any of my friends over again.” Then she stomped off toward the sidewalk.

I couldn’t take my eyes away from the gnomes. They were kind of ugly. And even though they were smiling, there was something unfriendly about their smiles. Something cold about their glassy red eyes.

“Whoa! Mindy! Look!” I cried. “One of the gnomes just moved!”

Mindy slowly turned to face me.

My wrist was held tightly in the chubby hand. I twisted and squirmed. Tried to tug free.

“Let go!” I squealed. “Let go of me! Mindy—hurry!”

“I—I’m coming!” she cried.