Legend of the Pumpkin Thief

by Charles Day

  Then the thought of the Pumpkin Thief came to mind again, followed by the possibility that, if the legend were real, perhaps that evil creature had decided to use the old lady’s yard to store all his stolen pumpkins. But that didn’t make sense.

  Well, the only way he’d be able to answer some of these questions would be to go back and snoop around for any additional clues. However, before going back, he’d have to make certain his sister kept her mouth shut. He didn’t want her to let Mom and Dad know what he was really up to. It would only complicate matters, slow his investigation down, and give Mrs. Needlewhitter time to tamper with the evidence. Nonetheless, his final goal and greatest challenge would be to get past Baxter, the German Shepherd From Hades

  Nick felt something hit him in his stomach, frightening him half to death. He looked down at his feet, where he saw it—an egg. The yellow yolk oozed across his shoelaces. A few pieces of broken shell clung to the sides of his white sneakers. What the—!

  “Got ya, turd! Bet you didn’t see that coming.” Lou laughed hard.

  There he was, the bully of the neighborhood, standing in front of Nick’s driveway with a smaller boy by his side. Trevor, Lou’s younger brother. They both snickered and pointed at Nick. “What’s up, N-Nicky S-Snicky?” ” Trevor giggled while stuttering his words.

  That was all he needed right now. He watched them from afar. Lou was older, in his first year in Chesterville Junior High and already thinking he was all that, but Nick was right behind him, ready to attend seventh grade next September, as long as he passed all his classes, which he knew for sure he could. Trevor, , was Nick’s age, and they even shared a class—Science 101. Nick wasn’t worried ’bout the runt. He was nothing without his bro by his side.

  Lou, unlike Trevor, was much stronger than Nick. A bit on the heavy side, but Nick had already witnessed some muscles on the bully this past summer when he was showing off his body by not wearing shirts around the neighborhood. Even now, his biceps bulged under leather concealment, almost as if they wanted to rip out of Lou’s black leather jacket. Nick he’d decided to come on by and start tossing eggs the night before Halloween.

  “That wasn’t cool, Lou. What do you want?” Nick had more important things to concern himself with. Sure, he knew every town had a local bully, and in his town, Lou and his younger brother Trevor, a wannabe bully, were it. Ever since these two settled in the neighborhood a few years back, they had led a reign of terror. But not tonight. Nick wanted no part of it.

  Trevor answered, while Lou just stood in the same position, smiling. “Wanna come out and play w-with s?”

  Nick knew Trevor’s intentions. The little runt tried to share in his brother’s bullying, but without his older brother by his side for protection, the small twelve-year-old could be kicked into the dirt by Nick, or even Samantha, with no problem.

  It was Lou. He was the problem.

  “What’s the matter, Nicky boy, you going to cry?” Lou motioned with his hands, which turned into fists as they came to his bullying eyes, mimicking someone pouting.

  Nick watched as Lou walked up the driveway.

  “Or is it that you’re waiting for someone to come by and play Candy Land with you? Hee, hee!”

  “I’m going in, Lou. I have more important things to do than start with you right now.”

  “Hey, wait!” Lou’s tone changed. He walked closer to Nick’s porch. “I was kind of hoping we could make peace with each other, actually. I mean, for starters, I wanted to see if you’re coming to the Halloween party that a few of us are having tomorrow night. That’s if you’re not too busy and all? Going to be a bunch of the junior high girls there.”

  Lou stopped midway to the porch, as Nick stood up and grabbed the front door handle.

  “Why are you throwing eggs at me, then?” Nick wanted to say something else, too, like s off my property, jerk. But instead of starting a fistfight, where he’d probably end up all bruised, he decided to be more civilized. “I don’t know, Lou. I’ll have to see.”

  Nick didn’t want to go to some stupid Halloween party that had anything to do with Lou. He would have preferred to grab an egg from his fridge, smash it in Lou’s fat face, then watch him try and wipe the sticky yellow yolk off. That would be a delight. Truly a wonderful sight to see.

  Lou took another step or two, approaching the bottom step of Nick’s porch. “Sorry, bro. Didn’t mean to actually hit ya. I was just trying to get your attention, sort of startle you, is all. Either way, let me know what you’re doing, okay?”

  Trevor came up in front of his big, burly brother to add some choice words to the personal invite. “Yeah, yeah, let us know.”

  Trevor smiled and moved his hands, acting like he was directing traffic. The kid was weird.

  Lou pushed his little brother behind him and looked up at Nick, who had his door open, one foot already inside.

  “We’ll see. I have something kinda planned. If things change, I’ll let you know.” Nick waved goodbye as he closed the door.

  He quickly went to his window and did his best to avoid detection as he peeked out to see if Lou was leaving. The smile on the bully’s face vanished, now replaced with a grin that looked sinister. He was blabbering something as he looked down at his brother. Nick tried to get a listen in, but it was hard. He could have sworn he heard something along the lines of, “I think he fell for it. Now we’ll have to see if he really shows. And if he does, oh boy, are we going to have fun!” Or maybe that was what Nick expected to hear, because he knew it to be true. It had to be. There was no way Lou wanted anything to do with a middle-schooler like Nick. It was a setup, and he needed to be careful from this moment on.

  He watched them walk out to the street, still mumbling back and forth to each other. And then Lou turned and looked toward Nick’s window. Nick slowly released the drapes so that they fell back into position. He walked backwards, turned, and ran up the stairs to his room. This was not good.

  Eventually, and because he was feeling hungry, Nick went back downstairs to the kitchen, where he ate a bowl of cereal, then returned to his bedroom window. He pushed the drapes aside, peering out onto the block. The street lamps shed a dim yellow light onto the black pavement and cement sidewalks. Tall maple trees, standing side by side, still held on to some of their yellow and red leaves. The rest covered the grass around the trunks. A few dogwood trees were already naked, their thin branches reaching up into the sky, outstretched arms with hundreds of fingers wiggling in the breeze.

  Nick also took notice of a few of his neighbors close by, coming off their lighted porches, scratching their heads. Maybe they were wondering where their pumpkins had gone, too.

  He saw Mrs. Struddle, who lived directly across the street, make her way to the curb. It seemed to Nick that the reason for her shuffling outside in her pink slippers was in hope she’d catch a glimpse of the young punk stealing another pumpkin, maybe with hers already under his armpit. No such luck, Mrs. Struddle. This pumpkin thief is good … real good. But I’ll catch him. I bet you I will. Once I get some more clues, that is.

  Nick watched her turn and walk back to her front door, glancing down at the round wet spot on the porch where her pumpkin once sat. Nick frowned at the sight. He pulled away from his window, let go of the curtain, and went to sit on his bed. He needed to get back to old lady Needlewhitter’s house to investigate why the pumpkins littered her yard.

  The front door to Mrs. Needlewhitter’s home swung open, rusted metal hinges squealing like a pig.

  “Baxter, come inside, boy. It’s time for your late-night snack,” Mrs. Needlewhitter called out to her precious canine. “Hop to it, you mutt. Mommy isn’t waiting all night for ya,”

  She held her screen door open, allowing the cold, fall mountain air to rush past her, chilling her bones under her blue floral bathrobe. The air even managed to make its way into her blue fluffy slippers as she curled her toes inside to keep them warm.

  “This is you
r last chance, Baxter. Get your doggy butt in here this very instant, or Mommy’s closing the door for the night, and you can go ahead and freeze out there all alone.”

  She figured Baxter had heard her voice, but needed to finish doing his business first, leaving a fresh stool in the backyard that she always had to pick up the next day.

  As he came around to the front of the yard and approached the porch, Mrs. Needlewhitter watched his tail wag as he stopped to sniff a smashed pumpkin “She let the screen door drift closed just as Baxter took the three porch steps in one leap. With a bang and a whimper, the poor dog smashed into the screen door nose first.”

  “What was that all about, Bax?” Mrs. Needlewhitter had a problem seeing without her glasses, which was the reason she’d just closed the door in Baxter’s face He’d been in the yard sniffing pumpkins when she last was able to focus.

  It was worse at night. She refused to drive her old car once the sun went down. So she did her best to make sure she never had to run any errands or such things and be caught driving after dark, unless it was a real emergency, of course. And in her life, these did pop up on occasion. However, she would always try one of her children first. Call them and see if they could give their old and tired mother a ride. She’d even stoop as low as to give them her good ole guilt trip. “You know your mother is bouncing off the walls here at home, right? Have a few bruises to prove it. Just don’t want to take a chance driving into a tree or another car when the sun goes down. So sorry to bother you, though.” Worked most of the time, she reasoned.

  Mrs. Needlewhitter opened the door again. “There you are, mutt. You’re lucky I heard you smack into the door. Now get in here.”

  She watched him tuck his tail between his legs and drop his head low to the rug. He cowered, then went into the kitchen to look for his nightly snack. She knew his routine. Always the same.

  Mrs. Needlewhitter turned off the porch light and closed the door, then shuffled into the kitchen. She went into the cupboard and reached for one of Baxter’s dog bones, but instead, grabbed the plastic one she gave him on occasion to chew and play with.

  Her sight was getting worse by the week, and poor Baxter was victim to it. She threw the toy bone to the floor behind the dog, forcing him to turn and retrieve it. He gave it a sniff and walked away.

  Nick wanted to return to the old lady’s house, solo this time around. If it weren’t for the dog, he’d have been there already. However, he ignored his anxiety about a possible confrontation with the canine, and decided he had to act.

  After leaving his home, he snuck up behind a small bush near Mrs. Needlewhitter’s front gate. The lights inside her home dimmed, which allowed him to come out from cover and quickly jump over the fence. It took forever, or it seemed like forever, but he eventually came close enough to the front porch to gather some clues, his only chance to find out why that old lady would want to take some of the neighbors’ pumpkins.

  At the base of the front porch, Nick bent down to look at a few of the smashed pumpkins. Among the gooey mess of orange and yellow stringy stuff, which had a bunch of pumpkin seeds still attached, he saw pieces of pumpkin with bite marks. Baxter had chomped on these, he was sure of it. But he knew the dog wouldn’t leave the yard, snap up some pumpkins, and bring them back here for his collection. Or would he? Nope, without opposable thumbs, it would be very hard for Baxter to get out.

  There could only be one answer: Mrs. Needlewhitter. She was stealing pumpkins so Baxter had something to chew on or play with. It has to stop now.

  Nick felt he had only two choices: confront the old lady, or tell his father. He needed to make a decision fast. He stood and stared at the porch steps that led to her door. Was he to go knock or run back home? Which would it be?

  Inside the alleged pumpkin thief’s home, Mrs. Needlewhitter tried her best to watch TV while Baxter paced back and forth by the bay window. She figured something had caught his attention. Maybe the putrid smell of an intruder in her yard. She watched her dog leap up, place his huge front paws on the windowsill, and then push the old brown drapes aside with his long snout so he could see outside.

  “What is it, Bax? Who’s out there?” Something definitely had his attention, she had been correct about this.

  Mrs. Needlewhitter was sitting comfortably in her cozy rocker, but she needed to get up to see what all the fuss was about.

  Baxter barked, which only added to her anxiety.

  “What do you see? Intruders?” She wiggled her large rear end, but she’d really wedged herself between the soft side cushions of her rocker. She pushed harder, finally getting herself up; the cracking in her bones sounded like the celery she snapped in half before making soup. Sucks getting old.

  “Okay, Baxter. Out you go. If there’s someone in the yard, I want you to rip ‘em to shreds, boy.” She shuffled slowly toward the front door.

  Nick trembled and he felt his heart pound as he witnessed Baxter scratching at the bay window, the barking getting louder. Those shiny white incisors looked deadly from where Nick stood.

  His first reaction was to run. But for some reason, he couldn’t move, as if his feet were cemented in place. Fear engulfed his body; chills and goose bumps found a home on his skin. He watched the porch light turn on. He was in trouble. The old lady’s dog saw him through the window, and Nick had two choices: run, or face Baxter on the dog’s own turf. The thought of her mutt chomping on his flesh was too much to handle.

  Nick made the right choice, the only one he really had. He ran for the gate. As he dashed, he could hear what sounded like the old lady’s door opening, then large nails clicking and scratching on the wooden porch steps. His intuition was right; the old lady had let her dog out to get him.

  “Who are you?” she screamed into the night. “What are you doing in my yard, you dirty rat punk?”

  Baxter galloped after Nick, obviously determined to take a serious bite out of the intruder in his yard, on his property, near his tasty pumpkins.

  Nick jumped over the gate in one leap as Baxter snapped his jaws in time to get hold of Nick’s pants.

  The dog pulled back, ripping off a piece of blue jeans and then chewing the ragged material.

  Nick fell to the ground on the opposite side of the gate, grabbing hold of his rear. The cold air slapped at the hole in his jeans. He jumped up and ran home, still able to hear Baxter barking above the sound of the old lady yelling, “You’ll see … Baxter will hunt you down where you sleep, you dirty rat punk.”

  Nick made it to his door and ran into the house. He then hurried up the stairs, but before going in his room to chill for the night, he went into the bathroom to use his mother’s portable mirror to check the hole in his pants and inspect his butt cheek. Stupid dog! I should have kicked you in your face, you dumb mutt.

  He was able to see the spot on his rear with the mirror. The red, puffy area still felt sore when touched, but the dog hadn’t broken the skin. Thank God! That’s all I need, rabies shots.

  Nick went into his room and sat on his bed, putting his weight only on the heel without the bite. He turned on his iPod, picked a song, inserted the earbuds, then rested his head on his pillow. As he raised the volume, he imagined what he should have done in Mrs. Needlewhitter’s yard. In his mind, he punches the lunging beast between the eyes, sending Baxter rolling into a bunch of smashed pumpkins. I’ll be back for ya, Bax!

  Halloween morning arrived in Chesterville, and the cold mountain air tried to enter Nick’s room. The fog outside the windows clearly indicated the chill; Nick couldn’t see any sunlight through his half-opened eyelids. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep and wanted to rest some more. The disruptions were short nightmares, in which he saw flashes of glowing orange and yellow pumpkins with crooked smiles, flying off dark porches, accompanied by floating canine teeth without the dog, snapping at his rear while he tried to run away. And when the nightmares dissolved, he awoke, sweaty, and his heart continued to thump against hi
s chest as if something were trying to break through his rib cage. After a few moments, his heart would go back to its normal beat But then he’d have to fall asleep all over again.

  Nick tried to get up from his soft, inviting pillow, but couldn’t. He decided to rest just a little longer.

  The snooze lasted about a half hour, and then he decided he’d better get out of bed if he was going to shower, eat some breakfast, and catch the school bus.

  Nick slowly sat up out of bed, firmly planting his warm feet on the cold hardwood floor. He went to the bathroom and hoped a hot shower would wake him. Dad was probably trying to get his shirt over his head and on his body while sipping some coffee. Mom, Nick figured, would most likely be dressed and proper looking, just in case some kids in costumes came knocking in the early morning. That’s right, today is Halloween. Then there was Samantha, the evil sister who most likely had her paws in his Cocoa Puffs.

  Nick stood under the spray of hot water, all the while thinking about how his detective work went bad last night. A clear reminder was his sore butt cheek, which still felt painful as the hot water poured down his back and over his wound. That dog, he almost got me. Mrs. Needlewhitter sent him out on purpose. She knows I’m on to her. You bet I am. As he made his way out of the shower, the doorknob jiggled and he heard a loud knock.

  “Hurry up in there, snot-face, I need to take a shower and brush my teeth. You’re always making me late. Mom!” Samantha shouted out, like she was in some chorus and the instructor had told her to hold the last note for as long as humanly possible.

  Nick grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist. “Hold on a minute, I’m not even dressed yet. And you better not have eaten my cereal, Sam, or I swear I’m going to finish your Fruity Pebbles.”