The Great Pumpkin Smash

by Franklin W. Dixon

  The brothers turned to look at Victor. The Constrictor’s enormous muscles swelled like balloons as he signed autographs.

  “Um . . why don’t we look for clues first?” Frank gulped.

  Joe watched as Victor signed a comic book for a fan. “Frank, he’s not wearing his Victor the Constrictor gloves.”

  “Why would he?” asked Frank. “He’s signing autographs.”

  “Sure, but when he smashes stuff, he wears reptile-claw gloves,” Joe explained. “If he smashed those painted pumpkins, his gloves would be splattered with mush too.”

  “Then we have to look for Victor’s gloves,” Frank said. “Where do we start?”

  “The hot dog stand,” Joe declared.

  “The hot dog stand?” cried Frank. “For Victor’s gloves?”

  “For lunch!” Joe said. “We haven’t eaten yet, remember?”

  Frank and Joe left Victor and his fans to look for the hot dog stand. They found it next to the zoo’s giraffe pen.

  A man in a hairy werewolf mask stood behind the counter. “What’ll it be, guys?” he asked.

  “One hot dog with mustard and relish, please,” Frank told him. “And a bottle of water.”

  “I’ll have a hot dog with extra ketchup and water, too,” Joe said, before quickly adding, “Please.”

  As the werewolf ripped opened a package of frankfurter buns, the brothers turned toward the giraffe pen. Kids gazed up at long giraffe necks bobbing over the fence. But what stood next to the giraffe pen was what caught the brothers’ eyes. It was a trailer painted with a snakeskin design.

  “Neat trailer!” Joe said, pointing to it. “Is that another Reptile House?”

  The werewolf handed over the hot dogs and water bottles. “That’s not a reptile house, guys,” he told the boys. “That’s Victor the Constrictor’s trailer. He uses it to travel to all his shows.”

  “Victor the Constrictor’s trailer?” Frank asked excitedly. “Thanks for the tip—and the hot dogs.”

  “We’ll try not to wolf them down!” Joe joked.

  The werewolf rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s a comedian on Halloween,” he sighed.

  As they walked away from the hot dog stand, Joe said, “Now we know where to look for Victor’s gloves. Are we lucky or what?”

  “It depends,” Frank replied. “What if the door is locked?”

  Joe pointed to an open window on the side of the trailer. “There’s always another way!” he said.

  Frank ate his lunch on their way to the trailer. Joe was still eating his as they approached the door.

  “Be careful not to drip ketchup in Victor’s trailer,” said Frank. “Or we’ll be toast!”

  “More like applesauce with someone like Victor,” Joe said with a shudder. He tried the door and it swung open. The brothers slipped into the trailer, closing the door behind them. But when they turned around—

  “Whoa!” Joe cried.

  Victor was standing right in front of them! Or was he?

  “It’s a cardboard cutout of Victor,” Frank declared. He knocked on the cardboard and said, “See?”

  Joe breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s look for those gloves, Frank,” he said. “Before the real Victor gets back.”

  The brothers searched the trailer. They found snack foods, a small TV, bins of autographed pictures—but no reptile-claw gloves!

  Frank was about to open a cabinet when they heard Victor’s voice outside the trailer.

  “I’m going inside to change, Doug,” Victor was saying. “I’m still covered with pumpkin guts!”

  “Okay, Vic,” Director Doug’s voice said.

  Joe turned to Frank, his eyes wide. “Did you hear what he said?” he whispered. “He’s covered with pumpkin guts!”

  “He’s coming back, too!” Frank said. “We have to hide!”

  The brothers dashed behind the cardboard cutout of Victor. The cutout showed the star with both hands planted on his hips. The brothers peeked through the arms to watch Victor step into the trailer.

  Humming the theme song from his latest movie, Victor reached down to peel off his muscles and tattoos. Underneath the inflated muscle shirt was a much scrawnier Victor, wearing a baggy T-shirt!

  Victor tossed the pumpkin-splattered muscle shirt into a hamper. Then he opened the cabinet and pulled out a clean one.

  While Victor put on his new muscle shirt, Joe whispered to Frank, “Did you see that? Victor the Constrictor is a fake!”

  “Shhh!” Frank hissed. “Fake or not, we still don’t want him finding us here.”

  Suddenly—SLURP!

  Joe turned to see a giant tongue licking ketchup off his hot dog. Glancing up, he saw a giant giraffe’s head sticking through the open window!

  “Frank, Frank, Frank,” Joe squeaked. “A giraffe is eating my . . frank!”

  LICK-OR-TREAT

  Joe tried not to yell as the giraffe tasted his lunch. But when its huge tongue began licking his hair—

  “Ahhh!” Joe shouted, dropping the hot dog. “Giraffe attack!”

  Pulling himself away from the window, he knocked against the cardboard cutout. It tipped to the floor with a THUMP—revealing Frank and Joe.

  Victor stared at the brothers. “Well,” he chuckled. “If it isn’t Dr. Frankenstein and his monster.”

  “Um . . hi,” said Frank.

  “What are you guys doing in here?” Victor asked with a small smile. “If you want an autograph or a selfie, just ask.”

  With licked-up hair, Joe turned toward the window. He pointed and said, “That giraffe up there was—”

  Joe stopped midsentence. The giraffe’s head was no longer at the window. . . Awkward!

  Frank decided to tell Victor the truth. “The painted pumpkins in the Boo-seum were smashed to slither-eens,” he said bravely.

  “You were covered with pumpkin mush,” Joe added. “Where would that come from if you weren’t smashing pumpkins?”

  “From eating pumpkins,” Victor replied.

  “Eating pumpkins?” Joe repeated.

  “I was in the pumpkin-pie-eating contest,” explained Victor. “If I couldn’t crush a pumpkin in my show, I was set on crushing the contest. And I did.”

  Joe looked around the trailer. “If you won the pumpkin-pie-eating contest, where’s your trophy?” he asked.

  “I gave it to the runner-up,” Victor said. “A kid who brought his own can of whipped cream. I never saw anyone else eat that much pie!”

  “Was the kid’s name Chet?” Frank asked.

  “That’s the guy!” replied Victor. While he propped up his fallen cardboard cutout, the brothers whispered to each other.

  “Wasn’t the pumpkin-pie-eating contest the same time as Scaryoke?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah,” said Frank. “That’s why Chet couldn’t come to cheer us on.”

  “So Victor was busy gulping down pumpkins at the time of the crime,” Joe said. “Not smashing them!”

  “How do we know Victor is telling us the truth?” Frank asked.

  “Watch this!” Joe whispered. He turned to the strongman and asked, “Excuse me, Victor—but are your muscles real?”

  Victor turned to stare at Joe. “Real?”

  Frank shot Joe a puzzled look. Didn’t they already know his muscles were bogus?

  But Victor smiled and said, “Can you guys keep a secret?”

  “Sure,” Frank and Joe said together.

  “Good,” said Victor, pretending to flex his muscles, “because this whole Constrictor suit is really a costume.”

  He pressed his hands together. “All those things I crush in movies and on TV are phony too,” he said. “They’re specially made to smash easily.”

  “Wow,” Joe said under his breath.

  “Then how come you couldn’t smash that pumpkin in your show?” Frank asked Victor.

  “The zoo goofed,” Victor sighed. “They put out a real pumpkin instead of one of my smashable props!”

  Joe smiled at Frank. Victor w
as honest about his muscles and strength. He had to be honest about the pumpkin-pie-eating contest too!

  “Thanks, Victor,” Frank said. “Your secret is safe with us.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret too, Victor,” said Joe.

  “Oh, yeah?” Victor asked. “What?”

  “A giraffe really did try to eat my hot dog!” Joe said. “But we’ll clean up the mess.”

  The brothers wiped splattered ketchup from the floor and tossed out the giraffe-licked hot dog. They then left the trailer, happy that their favorite hero wasn’t the pumpkin smasher.

  Joe crossed Victor’s name off the suspect list. “We still don’t have a who or why,” he said, “and Oliver Splathall is our only suspect left.”

  “Where do you think he is?” asked Frank.

  “Maybe he went back to the Boo-seum for his grasshopper sculpture,” Joe said.

  “Then that’s where we’re going too,” Frank said.

  “But first we better stop by the hot dog stand again,” said Joe.

  Frank chuckled. “Better eat it quickly this time.”

  On their way to the Boo-seum, the brothers passed the petting zoo. The two junior zookeepers were busy hosing down the animals, scrubbing them with soapy suds and patting them dry.

  “Hey, JZ Squad!” Joe called to the zookeepers. “I thought you guys washed the animals this morning.”

  Manuel and Stephanie stopped what they were doing to look at Frank and Joe.

  “You can never wash animals too often!” Stephanie shouted.

  “Clean animals are happy animals!” called Manuel.

  “Oh yeah?” Joe chuckled. “Tell that to the hippos rolling in the mud!”

  The two boys left the petting zoo and approached the Boo-seum tent. The flap used as an entrance had been pinned shut.

  “How do we get inside now?” Frank asked.

  With a smile, Joe said, “Follow me!”

  Before Frank could stop him, Joe dropped to his knees. He slid under the thick canvas into the tent.

  “Give me a break,” Frank sighed before slipping under the tent too.

  Once inside, the brothers saw Oliver’s pumpkin sculpture still standing. But Joe’s eyes were soon on the pumpkin shells on the sawdust ground.

  “Hey, Frank,” Joe said slowly. “What do you get when you smash a pumpkin?”

  “How can you think of pumpkin riddles now?” Frank complained.

  “It’s not a riddle,” Joe insisted. “What do you get when you open up a pumpkin? Like when we make jack-o’-lanterns with Dad.”

  Frank gave it some thought. “You get a ton of seeds and pulp . . pretty much a mess.”

  “Exactly!” Joe declared. “So something important is missing from the tent.”

  “What?” asked Frank.

  “The mush, Frank,” Joe said with a smile. “Seedy, gooey pumpkin mush!”

  FOR THE BIRDS

  Frank examined the smashed pumpkins. Joe was right. There were a lot of broken pumpkin shells but hardly any pumpkin mush.

  “I don’t get it,” Frank said.

  Just then the brothers heard loud chirps, squawks, and flapping noises outside the tent. “Sounds like birds,” said Frank.

  “A ton of birds!” Joe agreed. “Let’s check it out.”

  He and Frank left the tent the same way they’d come in, sliding out from underneath. As they stood up, a flock of birds zoomed over their heads. The birds fluttered over to a woman sitting on a bench. She smiled as she scattered seeds on the ground.

  “It’s Aunt Trudy!” Joe said.

  He and Joe could hear her call to the landing birds, “Come get your treats . . or should I say tweets!”

  “Hi, Aunt Trudy,” said Frank as they walked over. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m giving the birds a chance to trick-or-tweet,” Aunt Trudy explained. “I filled a bag with pumpkin seeds, which are perfect for Halloween.”

  Frank and Joe looked down at the pumpkin seeds. Some were stuck together with stringy orange goop.

  “They look pretty fresh,” Frank said. “Where did you get them?”

  “From Oliver—your sculptor friend,” Aunt Trudy said as a bird landed on her shoulder. “He had a big plastic bag filled with pumpkin pulp and seeds.”

  “Oliver?” Joe exclaimed. He turned to Frank and said, “Oliver is one of our suspects, and he’s packing pumpkin mush!”

  “I wonder if it’s the missing mush from the Boo-seum,” Frank said.

  “Mush? Boo-seum?” asked Aunt Trudy. “What are you boys talking about?”

  “We’ll explain later, Aunt Trudy,” Frank promised.

  “Can you tell us where Oliver is?” Joe asked their aunt. “Please?”

  Aunt Trudy pulled her hand out of the seed bag. Another bird landed on her finger as she pointed. “I don’t know exactly where Oliver is,” she said. “But he was walking the same way as the costume parade.”

  Frank turned to see kids in costumes marching by. “Follow that parade!” he told Joe.

  “Bye, Aunt Trudy!” Joe called back as they began to run. “And thanks!”

  The brothers ran alongside kids dressed as ninjas, superheroes, cartoon characters, fairies, and mostly animals. Oliver was lugging a big plastic bag, which made him easy to spot.

  “There he is,” Joe told Frank.

  Oliver broke out of the crowd. The brothers did too and followed. When Oliver was a good ten feet ahead of the brothers, Joe sniffed the air. “Whoa, Frank,” he said. “What’s that funky smell?”

  Before the brothers could guess, Oliver walked to a big Dumpster. Standing next to it was a man holding a shovel. He spoke so loudly the brothers heard him loud and clear.

  “Welcome to the Zoo Poo!” the man told Oliver. “I see you’ve got something there for me!”

  Joe turned to Frank. “Did he just say Zoo Poo?”

  Frank nodded. “I think it’s the zoo’s compost pile,” he said. “We learned about it on a class trip.”

  The man pointed to Oliver’s bag. “So are you donating animal waste to the Zoo Poo?” he asked. “Or vegetable waste?”

  “One hundred percent pumpkin guts,” said Oliver, handing over the bag. “Knock yourself out.”

  He dusted off his hands as he walked away.

  “Frank, Oliver admitted he had pumpkin guts!” Joe said. “How do we find out where it’s from?”

  “Like this,” Frank said. He cupped both hands around his mouth and shouted, “Hey, Oliver!”

  Oliver stopped walking and turned around. When he saw the brothers, he replied, “What?”

  “We just want to talk to you,” Frank called. “About the pumpkin—”

  “Can’t!” Oliver cut in. “I’ve got to go!”

  Oliver took off. Frank and Joe took off too—after Oliver. They chased him through the costume parade until he dashed straight into—

  “The Haunted Woods!” Joe cried, and stopped in his tracks. “No way!”

  HAUNT JAUNT

  “Let’s go,” Frank said, “or we’ll lose Oliver!”

  Joe shook his head at the entrance. The zoo’s forest was said to be the scariest part of the Boo. It was filled with monsters, ghosts, and everything high on the creep-meter!

  “I told you a million times,” Joe said. “The Haunted Woods is a no-go!”

  Frank groaned under his breath. “There’s no such thing as ghosts, Joe!” he exclaimed.

  “Oh, yeah?” Joe cried. He pointed to a figure at the entrance draped in a tattered shroud. “Tell that to Zombie Von Maggots over there!”

  The zombie took a jerky step forward. “Come in, boys,” she said. “We’re all dying to meet you!”

  “Ahh!” Joe yelled.

  To get away from the zombie, Joe rocketed through the entrance. Frank thanked the monster, then ran into the Haunted Woods too.

  The woods were thick with real and fake trees. It was dark even though it was the middle of the day. As the brothers searched for Oliver, they were surpr
ised by rubber bats dropping from trees and zoo workers in monster costumes yelling, “Boo!” There were three witches stirring a cauldron of liquid, which turned out to be apple cider, and a path lined with scarecrows.

  Frank and Joe followed the scarecrow path to a clearing. Sitting on the leaf-covered ground was a small crowd of kids. They all faced a tall object covered with a thick black cloth.

  “What’s underneath?” Joe wondered aloud.

  A boy wearing a pointy wizard’s hat suddenly stepped out from behind the object. The kids clapped their hands as the boy whipped off his cap and took a bow.

  “It’s Oliver!” Frank said.

  Oliver put his hat back on and shouted, “Beware, beware—and be very, very scared. I hereby present to you—!”

  Everyone watched as Oliver pulled at the cloth. It fluttered to the ground, revealing a scary-faced totem pole made of pumpkins. The five grimacing jack-o’-lanterns glowed from within.

  “—the Towering Totem of Terror!”

  Excited kids leaped to their feet. As they walked around the sculpture, oohing and aahing, the brothers approached Oliver.

  “Why’d you run away from us, Oliver?” asked Frank.

  “Because I was late for my big reveal,” Oliver explained. “You know I never keep my fans waiting.”

  “Fans?” Joe asked. “Here at the zoo?”

  “My fans are everywhere!” Oliver bragged.

  Frank and Joe listened as the kids discussed Oliver’s latest work of art.

  “It’s the perfect fusion of chaos and order!” one boy exclaimed.

  “Oliver Splathall did it again,” a girl squealed. “He created the perfect monster-piece!”

  “Monster-piece!” Oliver chuckled to the brothers. “Remind me to write that on my blog.”

  Frank and Joe studied the pumpkins in the sculpture. They were hollow inside except for glowing LED lights.

  “Is that where you got the pumpkin guts?” Frank asked Oliver. “The bag you donated to the Zoo Poo?”

  Oliver nodded.

  “I don’t get it, Oliver,” Joe said. “You already made a pumpkin sculpture shaped like a grasshopper. Why another one?”