Charlie Bumpers vs. the Really Nice Gnome

by Bill Harley

  I yelled too loud I guess, because the next thing I knew Matt had stuck his head in the door. I could see right away that things were going to get worse.

  “Charlie, you shouldn’t yell at your little sister,” Matt said.

  “She’s in my room and I told her to get out. You don’t let me come in your room.”

  Matt squatted down and looked into the Squid’s face. “Why is he yelling at you, Mabel?”

  “Because he doesn’t like his part in the play,” she said.

  Matt smiled his evil grin. “Why, is he a bunny?”

  “No, I’m not a bunny! Both of you get out!”

  “He’s got a good part,” the Squid said. “He’s a gnome. A really, really nice gnome.”

  “A gnome?” Matt said. He started to laugh. “You mean a guh-nome? A guh-nice guh-nome?”

  “No, just a gnome,” the Squid said. “A nice gnome. Anyway, you don’t say it ‘guh-nome.’”

  “Gnome begins with the letter g, Mabel,” Matt explained like he was a teacher or something. “The g is silent, but I think it sounds more appropriately dorky if it’s pronounced ‘guh-nome.’”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” the Squid said. “But I like gnomes and dwarfs and things like that. I wish I could be a nice gnome in the play.”

  “Guh-nome,” Matt said.

  “Guh-nome!” the Squid repeated, laughing.

  “Get out of my room!” I shrieked. “Both of you!”

  “Okay, okay!” the Squid said. “You don’t have to scream at us.”

  “You’re not being a very guh-nice guh-nome,” Matt said. “Come on, Mabel. Let’s leave the guh-not guh-nice guh-nome by himself.”

  When they were gone, I shut the door again.

  Now I hated the Guh-nice Guh-nome even more.

  6

  The Magic Rabbit of Gorlandia

  The next Monday morning, Mrs. Burke held up a handout. “Listed on this sheet are all the things you are responsible for regarding the play,” she said. “Besides knowing your lines, you are also responsible for assembling or making your costumes. Please show this to your parents so they can help you. And remember, if you ignore your responsibilities, you will be hunted down by my secret police.” She gave us one of her smirky smiles.

  Mrs. Burke had this really weird sense of humor. Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was kidding or not. I tried to imagine police coming into the classroom and arresting kids for not learning their lines.

  “Sarah and I are meeting at my house to make the camel,” Tricia Davidoff said. She was the front of the camel, and Sarah Ornett was the rear.

  I would even rather be the rear of the camel than the Nice Gnome, I thought.

  “My mom’s making a cape,” Sam Marchand said. “With skulls on it. Mwa-ha-ha-ha!”

  Everybody laughed. Except me.

  “Next week, the stage crew will be painting the set with Ms. Bromley in art class. We’ll also need help with props,” Mrs. Burke went on. “Does anyone have any items we can use in the play?”

  A bunch of hands went up. Some kids offered to bring in big cardboard boxes that could be made into rocks and trees and the Evil Sorcerer Kragon’s castle. Candy Carlofsky had a magic wand that the Evil Sorcerer Kragon could use. Trevor offered to bring in a recording of spooky sounds that would be perfect for the swamp scene.

  “Now,” Mrs. Burke said, “does anyone have a stuffed toy rabbit we can use as the Magic Rabbit, and a cage we could put it in?”

  Several kids raised their hands and started talking at the same time. Crystal Medeiros, who never speaks up in class, raised hers slowly.

  “Yes, Crystal,” Mrs. Burke said. “Do you have one?”

  “I have a real rabbit,” she said.

  Everyone got quiet all of a sudden and looked at her. A real rabbit!

  “Is it your pet?” Mrs. Burke asked.

  Crystal nodded. “I share it with my brother.”

  Mrs. Burke smiled. “That’s very kind of you to mention, Crystal. But I think it would be a lot easier to use a toy bunny.”

  Everyone started talking at once again.

  “No! Please let us have a real rabbit for the Magic Talking Rabbit!”

  Alex hopped around his desk like he was a rabbit himself.

  “Please, Mrs. Burke,” Ellen Holmes said. “A real rabbit would be great.”

  Mrs. Burke looked at Ellen. She was smart and everyone listened to her. We all trusted Ellen.

  “I don’t know,” Mrs. Burke said. “I don’t have much experience with real rabbits. Do you think it’s a good idea, Crystal?”

  Crystal nodded again. “I asked my dad if I could bring him in for the play and he said as long as Killer stays in his cage, it’s okay.”

  “Killer?” everyone said at once. “Your rabbit is named Killer?”

  Crystal smiled. “Yeah. My brother named him that because it was funny, since he’s so gentle and quiet.”

  Killer, the Magic Rabbit of Gorlandia. It was an excellent idea.

  We all looked at Mrs. Burke, waiting.

  “All right,” she said finally. “We’ll try it.”

  We all cheered.

  Crystal raised her hand again.

  “Yes, Crystal?”

  “I think we can only bring him in for one dress rehearsal. And we have to be very careful with him.”

  “Or else he’ll kill us!” Cory shouted.

  “Killer! Killer! Killer!” Alex chanted.

  Mrs. Burke snapped her fingers for everyone to get quiet. But she was smiling. “The Killer Rabbit of Mrs. Burke’s Empire!”

  I smiled, too. I told you our teacher had a weird sense of humor.

  7

  That’s Ridiculous

  When we got off the bus, it was starting to rain. I pulled my coat over my head and ran.

  “Wait!” the Squid yelled. “You’re supposed to walk with me!”

  “Run!” I called back.

  When I opened our back door, Ginger barked like crazy and jumped up on me. I pushed her out of the way so the Squid could get in. We took off our jackets and hung them on the hooks to dry.

  Matt was sitting in the kitchen. He had made eight little cheese-and-cracker sandwiches and lined them up next to his magazine. “Mom told me to remind you to walk Ginger. She had to go visit someone and won’t be home until right before supper. You guys each get two cookies.”

  I dumped my books on the table and sat down. I didn’t feel like walking the dog because it was raining and I was too grumpy.

  “What’s with you?” Matt asked.

  “I had a crummy day.” I knew better than to complain about the play to Matt. He’d just bug me about my part.

  “I got a star sticker when I read out loud.” The Squid stuffed a cookie in her mouth. “I had a good day.”

  “I didn’t,” I said.

  “Can I have one of your cookies?” the Squid asked. She was already eating her second one.

  “No,” I said. “You had two and I have two. It’s equal and fair.”

  “You better walk the dog now, before you forget,” Matt said.

  How could I forget? He was telling me about it every thirty seconds!

  “Why can’t you do it today?” I asked.

  “Can’t,” he said. “Too busy.”

  “Doing what?” I asked.

  “Being a genius,” he said.

  “I always have to walk the dog,” I said.

  “That’s because it’s always your job.” Matt didn’t look up from his magazine.

  “I still think you should do it sometimes,” I said to Matt.

  “I’ll walk Ginger!” the Squid said.

  “You’re too little,” Matt said, still looking down at Gamer’s World. “Ginger pulls too hard.”

  “I’m bigger already,” the Squid said. “Mrs. Diaz says when you’re six you grow in your sleep.”

  “Please, Matt,” I begged. “Just this once?”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
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  “You will?” I asked. I couldn’t believe it.

  “Sure,” he said. “If you pay me.” Then he grinned his evil older brother grin.

  “How much?” I was suspicious, but if it was a quarter or even fifty cents, it might be worth it.

  “Five dollars.” He gulped down one of his cheese-and-cracker sandwiches.

  “Five dollars! That’s ridiculous!” I said.

  “Then I guess you’d better walk her yourself.”

  “I’ll do it for a quarter,” the Squid said.

  “Give it up, Charlie,” Matt said. “It’s your job.”

  Boogers.

  I grabbed a plastic bag and shoved it into my pocket.

  “Have a great walk, Charlie Poopsters,” Matt said.

  “Ha ha ha,” I said.

  “Can I have your other cookie?” the Squid asked.

  “No. Leave it for me!”

  It was raining even harder now, so I put on my raincoat and pulled the hood over my head. I snapped the leash on Ginger’s collar, and she jerked me out the door.

  She pulled me down the back stairs, straining at the leash and sniffing at everything along the driveway. Her tail was wagging about 200 miles an hour. Ginger was in dog heaven. I tugged on her leash, but she wouldn’t stop dragging me along.

  “Ginger, no!” I said.

  But then she stopped suddenly and squatted right there in our front yard!

  I’d never had a bag of poop to hold so early on the walk. I had to hold it in one hand and Ginger’s leash in the other.

  I almost turned around right there, but I knew it wouldn’t be fair to Ginger since she’d been inside all day, so I kept going even though I was getting really wet.

  Things went great for a while.

  Lovey-Doodle wasn’t in the yard.

  The cats weren’t in the window.

  But just as we got to Mr. Gritzbach’s house, a big gust of wind whistled through the yard and sent the little cartoon characters’ legs spinning around. Ginger barked at them like they were going to attack us.

  “No, Ginger! No!” I pulled her away, but she wouldn’t stop barking at the evil cartoon pigs and cats.

  The front door opened and Mr. Gritzbach stepped out on the porch. When Ginger saw him, she shut up and started wagging her tail.

  Mr. Gritzbach stared at us.

  I held up the plastic bag, dripping with rain. “Don’t worry!” I called. “Ginger’s already answered the call of nature.”

  He shook his head and went back inside.

  When we got home, Matt and the Squid were still sitting at the kitchen table.

  “See?” said Matt. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  The cookie plate was empty.

  “Squid!” I yelled.

  “I couldn’t help it!” she squeaked.

  8

  I Hope There’s Nothing Dead in It

  After dinner a couple of days later, I was doing my homework at the kitchen table. My mom started to go through my backpack. “Charlie, this backpack is a rat’s nest,” she said. “I hope there’s nothing dead in it.”

  I didn’t say anything. Who knows? Maybe there was.

  “What’s this?” She pulled out the script of the play.

  Boogers. I forgot I’d left it in there.

  The staple had come out of it, and the pages were already kind of wrinkled.

  “Is this the play you’re going to do?” She sounded excited.

  “Uh-huh,” I said.

  “Oh, Charlie, this is just great. You’re really going to like being in a play.”

  I didn’t say anything. I knew that my mom had been in some plays when she was in college. Once she recited a whole speech to us that she still remembered from acting in a summer theater. That was a long time ago, before she went to nursing school.

  Maybe she liked plays and having to memorize a million lines for the worst role ever, but I didn’t.

  “I always loved opening night,” she said. “It’s so thrilling.”

  “What if you didn’t like your part?” I asked. “Was it fun then?”

  “Sure. I just liked being out on the stage no matter how small my role was. You’ll enjoy it, too. Working together on something is always fun.”

  I doubted that.

  She looked at the note that had been stapled to the script. “Ah, I see you’re the Nice Gnome. That sounds like a good part.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  Mom leafed through the script. “This is a big part, Charlie! You have a lot of lines!”

  “Too many lines,” I said. “And all of them are dumb.”

  She gave me a look. “What do you mean?”

  “I just don’t like the Nice Gnome,” I said.

  “He’s … um … boring.” I wanted to say stupid, but that would have been a stupid idea, because Mom doesn’t allow us to say stupid.

  “You’re being silly,” she said. “This looks like a great part.”

  “I’m not sure if it’s going to be my part,” I said. “It might change.”

  “Why is that?” she asked.

  “Sometimes,” I said, searching my brain for a decent answer, “sometimes … I mean … maybe Mrs. Burke will decide to change things.”

  She frowned. “I don’t think you should plan on that.”

  “It could happen,” I said.

  “Well, it’s better to start learning your lines right away,” she said. “If you memorize your lines early, then you can relax during rehearsals and have more fun. I’ll tell you what. Finish up your other homework and we can read through the play before bedtime.”

  Once Mom gets an idea in her head, she’s like a little dog that bites down on your pants leg and won’t let go. She’s almost as persistent as my sister.

  Escape was impossible.

  So when I finished my homework, Mom and I sat at the kitchen table and went through the script. I read my lines, and she read all the others. We got to the part in the forest where the Prince and Princess are lost and the Nice Gnome finds them and helps them. Mom read Samantha’s line: “Who are you, kind sir?”

  Unfortunately, that was the exact moment when Matt came into the kitchen looking for a snack. Or maybe just to bug me, which seems to be his job.

  “I am the Nice Gnome,” I read, “and I have been looking for you.”

  Before my mom could read her line, Matt said, “The Guh-nice Guh-nome? The really Guh-nice Guh-nome? Looking for me?”

  “Mom!” I said, turning to her for help.

  “Matt!” Mom said. “Stop it.”

  “I am the Guh-nasty Guh-nome, and you cannot find me,” he said. Then he grabbed a handful of pretzels and slipped out the door. Matt had ruined our practice session, but Mom made me keep going until we got through the whole script. It took forever and made me hate the Nice Gnome even more.

  “Good job,” Mom said when we finished. “I think I’ll ask Mrs. Burke to e-mail me a file of the whole play, so we both can have scripts when we practice together.”

  “Mom!” I moaned.

  “And you’ll do a great job in the play. You have a big part. You just need to say your lines with more expression.”

  “I don’t want this part,” I said. “I don’t want to learn these dumb lines.”

  “If you don’t learn your lines, Charlie, everyone else in the play suffers.”

  I’m the one who is suffering, I thought. Because I’m the dumb Nice Gnome.

  9

  Would You Like Some Fries with That?

  The next Tuesday, I sat with Tommy in the cafeteria. Hector took a seat at our table. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his folded-up script. He opened it and stared at the top sheet.

  “What are you doing?” Tommy asked.

  “Trying to learn my part,” Hector said. “I’m not very good at it. I keep making mistakes.”

  He was the Prince’s Servant. He mostly just follows the Prince around and says, “Yes, Your Highness” or “No, Your Highness,” e
xcept at the end when he reminds the Prince and Princess they have a Fox that can answer riddles.

  “We’ll help,” I said. “I’ll read the Prince’s part and Tommy will read the Princess’s part.” I sort of knew the Prince’s part already, since I’d been over the play so many times.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” said Tommy. “I don’t want to be the Princess.”

  “And I don’t want to be the Nice Gnome,” I said. “At least you don’t have to be one onstage.”

  We started practicing, with Tommy reading the Princess’s lines in his sports announcer voice.

  It took us a while to get through the whole scene because we were laughing so much. By the second time around, Hector remembered most of his lines. After two more times, Hector got every single line right. By the time we finished, I knew the Prince’s part, and also the Fox’s.

  “You know what?” Tommy said. “This play would be a lot better if you said funny things.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Like when the Prince says, ‘Please bring my pillow so I can sleep,’ the servant could say, Would you like some fries with that?’”

  I laughed out loud. “That would be hilarious! People would love it!”

  Hector smiled and shook his head. He was too shy to do anything like that. But it gave me an idea.

  “Hey,” I said. “If I’m stuck with this part, maybe I could at least change some of my lines so they would make people laugh. Mrs. Burke is too busy to change anything. But I could do it.”

  “You could be the Hilarious Gnome!” Tommy said.

  “Exactly!” I said.

  “Hey!” Tommy said. “Maybe you could use some lines from Buck Meson—Detective from Andromeda!”

  I looked at Tommy and we both said at the same time, “I DON’T THINK SO!”

  We cracked up. Anyone who’d seen Buck Meson on TV would laugh their heads off.

  Hector shook his head. He took off his glasses, wiped them with his shirttail, then put them back on. He always does that. It’s like he thinks if he cleans his glasses, the things he’s looking at will make more sense. But when he put them back on, I could tell he thought Tommy and I were still as crazy as ever.