Charlie Bumpers vs. the Really Nice Gnome

by Bill Harley

  “I think you’d better ask Mrs. Burke,” Hector said.

  “Yeah,” Tommy said. “But don’t ask her until you can show her the new lines. That way she’ll see how great it is.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I just hope I can do it. It’ll be a lot of work to rewrite all those lines.”

  “It’s going to be easy,” Tommy said, “because I’m going to help you, and I am a genius.”

  “You are a bozo,” I said. “But if you’re trying to be funny, that’s better than being a genius.”

  Hector cleaned off his glasses again. But no matter how many times he did it, he was still going to look up and see two bozos.

  10

  Charlie Bumpers! Criminal!

  As I walked in the back door that afternoon, Ginger jumped up on me. “Down, Ginger,” I said. “Down!”

  “Walk the dog,” Matt said. He didn’t even look up from his comic book.

  “Would you please walk Ginger?” I begged. “Just today?”

  “Sorry, I can’t,” he said.

  “Please? Tommy’s coming over and we need to work on the play.”

  “I have to finish this story. It’s very important for my education.”

  “It’s a comic book!” I yelled. “It’s not part of school!”

  “It’s still important,” he said. “It’s about how zombies can turn back into living people, and I need to read it so I can help you become human again.”

  “Matt, please!”

  “Sorry, Poopmeister!”

  “I’ll walk Ginger,” the Squid said. “You only have to pay me a quarter.”

  I wondered if she could do it.

  “I’m bigger than I was yesterday,” she said. “Remember what Mrs. Diaz said? When you’re six you grow in your sleep. So I’m definitely bigger.”

  “It’s Charlie’s job,” Matt said.

  “If she really wants to do it—”

  “No!” The way Matt looked at me, I knew he meant it. He wasn’t even being mean. “It’s your job, Charlie.”

  Ginger started barking. Then she jumped up on me again.

  It was no use.

  I took the leash off the hook, but the Squid grabbed it out of my hand. “Let me do it,” she said. “I know how.” She tried to snap the leash onto the collar, but Ginger kept squirming around.

  “Here,” I said. “You have to be patient because sometimes it doesn’t snap on all the way. Ginger, sit!”

  Ginger sat, quivering all over. She couldn’t wait to go for a walk.

  I showed the Squid how to snap on the leash. “See?”

  “I already knew that,” she said, holding up the leash. “Can I walk her?”

  “No,” Matt said.

  “Can I come with you?” she asked me.

  I wished Matt would mind his own business. “Forget it, Mabel,” I said. “It’s my job. I’ll do it myself.”

  “Okay,” the Squid said. “But I know how to do it.”

  I opened the door. Before I could take the leash from my sister, Ginger pulled it from her hands and bounded out into the backyard. I stood on the porch and whistled and she came hurtling back.

  “I can do that, too,” the Squid said. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and blew Nothing came out but a whooshing sound.

  “Come on, Ginger,” I said.

  I walked her down the street, then turned at the end of the block. Up ahead was Lovey-Doodle’s yard. I didn’t hear any yapping. As we got closer, I saw Mrs. Lapidus on the sidewalk, looking up and down the street.

  “Lovey-Doodle! Loooooovey!” She clutched her hands in front of her chest. “Lovey-Doodle, come!”

  Mrs. Lapidus spotted me and Ginger. “Have you seen Lovey-Doodle?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “I mean, I’ve seen it—him—but not today.”

  “It was such a pretty day, I let him out. I guess the gate wasn’t closed.” She looked down the street again. “I’m afraid he’ll get lost. He never leaves the yard.”

  I felt sort of bad for her. I would hate losing Ginger. “I’ll look,” I said.

  “Would you?” Her face brightened.

  “Sure,” I told her. “I’ll look while I’m walking my dog around the block.”

  “That’s so sweet of you, Charlie,” she said, patting my arm. “I’ll stay here in case he comes home.”

  Just as she said that, we heard a faint yapping noise coming from around the corner. We looked at each other.

  “I think that’s him,” I said.

  “I do, too!” she answered.

  I gave Ginger a tug and started down the street. In about half a second, she was ahead of me, pulling on the leash.

  We forgot all about pooping. Ginger didn’t know where we were going, but she loved chasing things.

  The yapping got louder and louder.

  We turned the corner and saw him—Lovey-Doodle was yelping and howling in front of the window where the two cats were sitting like always. Every once in a while, the little dog would run around underneath the bushes, then throw himself at the house like he was attacking a fortress.

  The two white cats stared down at him like they were watching an animal at the zoo.

  But then I noticed that the screen had fallen off the window.

  There was nothing between the cats and Lovey-Doodle.

  Ginger barked and pulled on the leash until she was standing up on her hind legs. I held on like I was riding a bucking bronco. She strained and gasped for a second, and then all of a sudden, the snap on her collar unhooked. She took off, leaving me holding an empty leash.

  When Ginger realized nothing was holding her back, she lowered her head and headed for the window About three feet from the bushes she leapt into the air, straight toward the cats.

  Lovey-Doodle froze.

  You’d think a cat being chased by a flying dog would run under a couch or spring up onto a shelf somewhere out of reach. That would be the smart thing to do if you were a cat. But instead of leaping back into the house, these cats jumped out the window and sailed over the bushes.

  Ginger, amazed to find out she could fly, landed on top of the bushes. She struggled for a moment, then fell back onto the grass.

  The cats screeched, raised up their backs, then scampered away. Lovey-Doodle came back to life and set off after them, yapping louder than ever. Ginger scrambled to her feet and ran after Lovey-Doodle.

  I don’t think those cats had ever been outside before. They ran around in crazy circles for about fifteen seconds with Lovey-Doodle and Ginger right behind them, and then both cats shot up a tree. The dogs bounded over and started throwing themselves at the trunk, still yowling at the top of their lungs.

  The cats crawled up four or five branches, then stopped.

  There were two squirrels right next to them.

  The squirrels must have been surprised to see two cats coming up after them. But instead of climbing higher, they scurried down the trunk of the tree. Right toward Ginger and Lovey-Doodle.

  The dogs were going nuts. They’d never seen squirrels running toward them. The squirrels scooted on by and ran down the street.

  Ginger and Lovey-Doodle stopped barking for a second.

  Lovey-Doodle looked at the squirrels, then started barking like crazy at the cats again.

  Ginger looked up at the cats, then started chasing after the squirrels. They ran across the street into a neighbor’s yard. There were no trees there, so the squirrels just kept going.

  “Come, Ginger!” I yelled. Without even looking back at me, she ran past a big brick house and disappeared.

  I was going to chase Ginger, but I remembered I’d promised Mrs. Lapidus I would help her. Her dog was right in front of me. And I had a leash.

  Just as I hooked Lovey-Doodle to the leash, the door to the house with the cats flew open. A woman in a jogging suit rushed out.

  “What’s going on?” she shouted from the porch. “Where are Alice and Gertrude?”

  Alice and Gertrude? Why does everyone
on this block have such weird names for their pets?

  I just stood there, looking up in the tree. She hurried over and looked up, too. Her cats hissed at me and Lovey-Doodle.

  “Did your dog chase Alice and Gertrude up there?” she shrieked. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

  It was way too complicated to explain. I didn’t even know how to start. So I just said, “I don’t know”

  “Take your dog away from here right now,” she said. “If I can’t get them to come down I’ll have to call the police.”

  Charlie Bumpers! Criminal!

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “You should be,” she said.

  I thought about telling her it wasn’t my fault that her screen came off, but I knew that when adults are mad, they don’t listen very well. I got about ten steps down the sidewalk toward my house before I remembered I was walking Lovey-Doodle, not Ginger. And I was going the wrong way. I had to turn back and go by the angry cat woman again.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. I guess she thought I was crazy.

  Maybe I was.

  “I don’t know,” I said, hurrying past.

  When I turned the corner, I started running.

  Mrs. Lapidus was coming toward us. “You found him! You found him! Oh bless you, Charlie!”

  When Lovey-Doodle jumped up on her leg, she picked him up and held him like a baby. “My little Lovey-Doodle-oodle-doodle,” she cooed.

  The snuggling and baby talk was pretty weird, but Mrs. Lapidus was so happy, it was okay.

  I took the leash off and headed down the street. I still had to find Ginger. Who knew where she was and what she was doing?

  “Thank you, Charlie!” Mrs. Lapidus called.

  “You’re welcome!” I shouted. I jogged back the other way, because I didn’t want to go by the cat lady’s house again.

  I rounded the corner and ran toward our house. Ginger was sitting on our front steps, waiting for me like nothing had happened. She had answered the call of nature right in front of my mom’s flower bed. I picked up the mess with the plastic bag and took Ginger inside.

  Tommy’s mom had dropped him off and he was in the kitchen waiting for me.

  “What took you so long?” he asked.

  11

  A Keg of Root Beer

  I knew my mom had saved the script file from Mrs. Burke to the computer desktop. I opened it, then put Tommy in charge of typing up our changes. He’s faster than I am.

  I flopped down on the floor and propped my feet up on a chair. I needed a second to recover from the Lovey-Doodle and Alice and Gertrude dog-walk disaster. Ginger trotted over and started licking my face. For her, it had been the best walk ever.

  Tommy scrolled through the script. “Okay,” he said. “Here’s a good place to start. The Princess—”

  “Samantha Grunsky,” I interrupted.

  “Right, Samantha and you and the Prince and their servants are stuck in the desert. And you’re running out of water. The Princess says, ‘I’m so thirsty, I can’t go on.’ Then you, the Nice Gnome, say—”

  “Don’t call me the Nice Gnome, please,” I said. “Call me the Hilarious Gnome.”

  “Whatever,” Tommy said. “Your line goes like this: ‘Just one cup of water would save our lives.’ What do you want to say?”

  I thought for a second. “Just one glass of root beer?”

  “What about one keg of root beer? That would be funnier.”

  “Excellent,” I said. “Type that in before we forget it.”

  We worked at the computer for over an hour and came up with some great new lines for the Gnome. The part was seven hundred times better.

  We managed to put in “I DON’T THINK SO” four times. Every time it got funnier.

  “Okay,” Tommy said. “We’re almost done. They just have to get to the castle.”

  “I know what I’m going to say when the Nice Gnome leaves. Instead of goodbye, I’ll say, ‘I have to answer the call of nature.’”

  Tommy frowned, like he wasn’t so sure about that line.

  “Just type it,” I said. “It’s funny.”

  We finally finished. I think I’d worked harder at changing those lines than I ever had on any homework. I got up and stared at the computer screen. Our rewrite looked really official.

  Mrs. Burke always said she appreciated hard work.

  “Tommy,” Mom yelled from the hallway, “your mother just honked. She’s out front.”

  “Okay, Charlie,” Tommy said. “All you have to do now is print this out and take it in.” He put on his jacket and gave me a high five.

  I walked with him to the door. “Thanks, Tommy. I think you just saved my life.”

  “No problem.” He made a thumbs-up sign as he got into his car.

  When I went back into the family room, my mom was looking at the computer screen.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “The play,” I said.

  “What are you doing with it up here on the screen?”

  “Nothing.”

  “How could it be nothing?” she asked.

  Trick question! No good answer! I didn’t say anything.

  But now she was scrolling through the pages. Unfortunately for me, Mom knew the play pretty well.

  “Charlie,” she said. “The Nice Gnome doesn’t say these things. There’s nothing about root beer in the play.”

  I still didn’t say anything.

  “What are you and Tommy up to?”

  “We’re just changing a couple of things. To make it better.”

  “Does Mrs. Burke know about this?”

  “I’m going to show her tomorrow.”

  “You know, Charlie, directors don’t like it when actors change their lines.”

  “Mrs. Burke doesn’t have time to change things, so I’m helping her.”

  “Charlie, this isn’t a good idea. You’d better talk to her about your part if you’re unhappy with it.”

  “I’m more than unhappy with it,” I said. “I can’t stand it.”

  My mom twisted her mouth up and stared at me for a few seconds. “Charlie, this is the part you have been given. It’s time for you to quit whining and make the best of it.” Then she left before I could say anything.

  After I heard her go upstairs, I printed the new script. When it came out of the printer, with the paper new and smooth and the printing neat and clear, I thought it looked like a much better play. I just hoped Mrs. Burke would agree with me.

  12

  I Don’t Think So!

  The next day when we were getting ready to rehearse, Mrs. Burke broke us up into groups of four. Alex and Dashawn were in my group. So, unfortunately, was Samantha.

  “Your job today is to help each other with your lines,” Mrs. Burke said. “Everyone will take turns reading the lines before and after your partners’, so each person can practice.”

  “I don’t have any lines,” Alex said.

  “You can read the other parts in the scene,” Mrs. Burke said.

  I was glad Dashawn and Alex were in my group. Reading with them would give me a chance to try out my new lines before I showed them to Mrs. Burke. “I made some changes,” I said, holding up my new script. “So just keep reading, even if it seems different.”

  “You’re not supposed to make changes,” Samantha said.

  “Let’s just try it,” I said. “You’ll see. It’s a lot better.”

  It was. When we got to the place where the Prince and Princess and their servants and the Nice Gnome meet the Fox in the woods, Alex spoke the Fox’s words: “My paw is stuck in the trap. I can’t get it out.”

  I read my new line: “Well, why’d you put it in there?”

  Alex cackled and jumped up and down. “That’s funny!”

  “It is sort of funny,” Dashawn said.

  “It’s not right,” Samantha said. “And it’s not funny.”

  I ignored her. We kept reading.

  When we met up with the snake, Alex
said, “Ssssssssweeeeeet to meeeet youuuuuu.”

  I read, “I DON’T THINK SO!”

  Dashawn laughed again.

  “Buck Meson!” Alex guffawed. “Awesome!”

  I grinned.

  Samantha folded her arms and frowned. “This isn’t right. You’re spoiling the whole play.”

  “I think it’s better!” Alex said.

  “So do I,” said Dashawn.

  “You’d better stop it,” Samantha said.

  Finally we got to the part where they were stuck in the desert. Samantha said her line: “I’m dying of thirst.”

  I read, “Just a keg of root beer would save our lives.”

  Dashawn laughed out loud. Alex hopped around, whooping.

  Samantha stood up and raised her hand. “Mrs. Burke! Mrs. Burke! Charlie’s ruining the play!”

  Mrs. Burke came over to our desks. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “He’s changing everything!” Samantha said. “He’s trying to be funny, but he’s not.”

  “It is funny, Mrs. Burke,” Alex said, stopping to catch his breath. “It’s really funny!”

  Dashawn was trying not to laugh.

  “What’s going on, Charlie?” Mrs. Burke asked.

  I held up my new script. “I changed some of my lines. I didn’t change anyone else’s.”

  Mrs. Burke took the script. She looked at it, then she looked at me. Her face screwed up in a sort of smirk. I hoped that was a good sign. Maybe the Nice Gnome could be the Hilarious Gnome after all.

  “You did this?” she asked me.

  I nodded. “My friend Tommy helped me some because he types faster. If you want, we could print out copies for everyone.”

  She put my script under her arm. “Charlie, please go back to your old script. And Alex and Dashawn, please control yourselves.”

  “He’s going to ruin the play!” Samantha said.

  “He will not ruin the play,” Mrs. Burke said. “No one ruins a play in Mrs. Burke’s Empire. Now get back to rehearsing.”

  At the end of the school day, everyone was doing silent reading. “Charlie,” Mrs. Burke said, “can I see you for a minute?”