HALLOWEEN IS CLOSE, SO A SCARY STORY IS IN ORDER

Before I was a writer, I was a reader and the VERY BEST thing for me as a boy was MAD MAGAZINE. I was fortunate to have a mom who had one rule about room cleaning and that was "If your door is shut, I don't care how you keep it!" That meant Mom never ventured in to throw away my Hot Rod Cards or Mad Magazines, which are now stored safely in my basement. In 1974 I had the Mad Magazine (pictured here) which began quest. To see the movie it parodied. Being a Catholic boy, there was something very, very dangerous and delicious about pondering the evil potential within the story. I was SO scared of it, it was like a single lamp in the backyard that draws and destroys the moth who continually bangs against it. I HAD TO SEE IT! But Mom said "ABSOLUTELY NOT!" For you younger readers, please bear in mind that at this time our black and white television showed four channels and a test pattern of an Indian in a head dress. The point I was trying to make was that this was a much more innocent time, when there were NO slasher movies on tv, just the black and white Creature Features with The Werewolf, Dracula and The Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman. I have always loved scary stories and for some reason because October is the month of Halloween, I always watch scary movies during the month and read a book that is in the Horror genre.




So last night, after the lights were out in my house and everyone was in bed except me, I sneaked into my office and watched THE SCARIEST movie I have ever seen. It pulled me back to the year 1975, the year I was born. Ahem... okay, not exactly, but a year that would lodge itself in my memories because of ONE fateful night, and ONE fateful movie and ONE fateful error in judgment. It all came flooding back to me last night in such a real way that I literally know what it feels like to have the hair stand on end on the back of your neck.


First; the MORAL OF THE STORY - MOM IS ALWAYS RIGHT! The way to live a better, saner, fuller life - LISTEN TO MOM!

In 1975 I was a boy emerging into the decade of impending teenagedom. My parents were fairly, to be honest, really liberal and a bit lax in their parenting skills. Both were college professors and somehow the space they gave their students translated to the way they parented.

However, I must say it was an easier time. We ran in packs and no one messes with a pack of kids, especially in a then country neighborhood! No one was worried about a kid barely in his double digits staying out 'till two in the morning on a hot, summer night because everyone slept in their backyards (kids anyway)in the summer. There were a few rules of course: NO LAKE OR POND after dark (unless there were at least five of you together). No crossing the highway after dark! Stay off the railroad track after dark. SOMEHOW everything cool happened after dark and I wasn't supposed to have any of the fun.

I was sitting up in my tree house with a couple of my pals and down below us there were some teenagers (they didn't know we were up there.) They were smoking cigarettes and talking in loud whispers about how terrifying the movie they had seen the night before was. Blow by blow they talked about The Exorcist, which to that point I only knew about through the view of Mad Magazine. They talked about the scenes everyone who ever saw that movie has been unable to erase from their minds.

When the three teens jumped in their hot rod Mustang with a "Let's go see it again!" Me and my two buddies made a pact. We were going to go see it. We made a plan which would require us to break SO many rules. We knew our Moms would NEVER let us see the movie and that we would be grounded FOREVER if we walked down the highway at night, so we made an alternate plan, which would end up breaking even more rules.

The next night we would each tell our moms that we were sleeping in the other's backyard tent (FIRST BROKEN RULE, LYING). Then right before dark, since The Exorcist was the second feature and we didn't want to be spotted in daylight, we would head down the railroad track (SECOND BROKEN RULE, RAILROAD TRACK AND DARK)which would take us the threeish miles to the outdoor Drive-In Theater past a lake and a pond (THIRD BROKEN RULE, AFTER DARK BODY OF WATER) and then we would have to cross the highway (FOURTH BROKEN RULE, CROSSING THE HIGHWAY AT NIGHT) to sneak into the drive-in theater (FIFTH BROKEN RULE, STEALING BY NOT PAYING TO GET IN) Where we'd stand out in the middle of the gravel lot, next to the speakers and watch the forbidden movie (SIXTH BROKEN RULE, DIRECTLY IGNORING A SPECIFIC RULE MOM SET DOWN) We'd all been there before with our respective parents, but this time we were hoofin' it!

At the last minute one of my buddies chickened out and so it was only going to be the two of us. Me and a kid we called PeePot because of his propensity to wait too long to go to the bathroom and then frequently wet his pants (not exactly a guy you wanted spending the night in your tent). Both of us wanted desperately to beg off the dare, but neither wanted to lose face. So we stuffed our pockets with candy for the movie and headed out.

It took us forever to walk down that dark railroad track. The only time there was light to keep us from tripping on almost every railroad tie was the time the train came, sending us both hurdling down the incline, getting a bit scratched up from our overreaction. It seemed with every step it got darker as we ventured further out into the middle of nowhere.

Where was the moon? All I remember is with every passing half mile the terror began to grow to the point where neither of us spoke, because we couldn't. We both had FICM, fear-induced-cotton-mouth and we weren't even there yet. Just when I thought I would panic I realized we were where we needed to turn up a gravel road running directly into the old outdoor movie theater.

Even though not technically a highway, several cars came over hills catching us like 'deer in the headlights' and we would hear voices yelling at us to "GET OUT OF THE ROAD, STUPID!" and stuff like that. We began to jog and I swear I could hear something sloshing when Pee-Pot was running next to me. We both breathed a huge sigh of relief as we secreted our way across the highway and then slipped under the fence, finding our way to an empty spot where the speakers hung on the post. We stood far enough away from cars that no one should notice two kids standing at the DRIVE-in.

And then it happened, the credits rolled and suddenly we were in ancient Iraq at an archeological dig. "WHAT GIVES? THIS IS LIKE A NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MOVIE?" I complained loudly, but secretly a bit relieved that this wasn't going to be quite as terrifying as I had thought.

Soon enough young Regan's head was spinning like a top and floating around her room with the scariest face I had ever seen. She was using phrases I didn't understand and language that would earn me a bar of Lava in the kisser if I ever repeated any of them (mom wasn't too liberal about that one.) By the end of the movie I wasn't sure if Pee-Pot was the only one who would have that nickname from that night on. I WAS T E R R I F I E D! Pee-Pot's eyes were so wide I thought he would never blink again. I was sure the whole place was going to go up in smoke for showing such a movie.

I have never been that scared in my life and we had threeish miles of dark road ahead of me and by now it was well after midnight. We somehow hadn't counted on the threeish mile trek back in the now terrifying, "possessed" night darkness when we made the decision to go see the scariest movie ever made.


EVERY twig that snapped or coyote that howled convinced me with every step that I was becoming possessed like poor Regan. Pee-Pot completely lost the ability to speak and even though it was too dark to see his face, I was sure he was crying most of the way home.

I had never noticed how comforting the streetlight across the road from my house was at night, but seeing it as we crested the hill was like a beacon leading me home. Neither Pee-Pot nor I said a word, we both just knew there was NO sleeping in our tents that short night (by now it was around three in the morning).

I sneaked up the metal ladder that was below my window, against the house and pulled the screen off and squeezed my way in. I slipped down into my bed and pushed myself deep down under a cover in my bed, even though it was a hot summer night, I needed to be cocooned. Suddenly my bed felt like it was moving and I was sure I was about to begin floating.

I lay there wide awake, unable to close my eyes as they darted to and fro wondering when my dresser was going to scoot across the floor and pin me against the wall. I was totally terrified until the sun came up. It was the first night in my life I had stayed up ALL night. Though it was comforting to see the sun come up on the darkest night of my life, somehow I knew night would be sneaking up on me again too soon.

The worst part of my disobedience was that I couldn't tell anyone that I was so scared or why. I had to suffer night terrors for about a month before the raw, scary emotional response to seeing something I was WAY too young to see with not parental comfort began to subside.

I learned one of the most valuable lessons of my life that night about listening to people who know a bit more about things than I do. I also decided that for the meantime, the parodies of adult movies in Mad Magazine were more my style and didn't feel compelled to go see something that I couldn't handle. If Mom said "NO!", then that was an answer. I would listen to more.

I confessed to the activities of that dark and scary night when I was in high school when enough time had passed and we could all "laugh about it". Mom told me Pee Pot had ratted me out back then because he was so scared he had slept with his parents for about six months. When I asked her why she hadn't confronted me about it back then, she said something like, "Are you kidding me? You were the most compliant, helpful, obedient kid for the next month that I'd ever seen and I could see you were punishing yourself enough. I didn't have the heart to do more."

I said it before and I will say it again: The MORAL OF THE STORY - MOM IS ALWAYS RIGHT! The way to live a better, saner, fuller life - LISTEN TO MOM!

I had all but forgotten this horrific chapter in my early life until I once again watched The Exorcist all these years later and it all came back to me. I literally remember exactly how I felt the first time I dipped my toe into terrifying story telling. Though I am mature enough now to handle the terror and have a clear understand that it is simply a story of God winning, it is not like the cotton candy of my youth, which the last time I was at an amusement park made me wonder how I at one time in my life considered it one of my top five favorite foods. No, The Exorcist has remained horrifying and good storytelling to this day. I asked the question of my friends on facebook, What is the scariest movie you have ever seen and 40%+ named this movie.

Nothing since has come close, though the fear I felt at two in the morning not that long ago, after returning from seeing the Midnight Movie showing of The Ring with a buddy set me up a bit. Once I entered my dark, cold house and my phone started ringing that old fear gripped me hard until I looked out the window and saw my buddy gripping his cell phone and laughing hard at what must have been a white face with too-wide eyes. I haven't gotten him back for that one yet, but I will... BOOHAHAHAHA...

Now all these years later, I write stories and have been working on a scary one for years titled THE MAN IN THE WOODS, which I won't release until I am sure it holds the same terror for the reader that this movie held for me once.

But, generally, in my GP series, something from real life sparks my inspiration for my character's activities. This real life incident I have just told (in a too long for blog story, nod with me now) will surely show up in book 5 or 6 as something either Gabe and his friends do or something their older brothers do. Either way, it will have a similar backfire effect.

As a Catholic schoolboy I knew Thou Shalt Obey Your Mother and Father was one of the big TEN. Believe me after that experience I did a bit more obeying for a long, long time!

So, what is the scariest Movie you've ever seen?

When Mom's Out of Town

From my upcoming book NITWITTLES. Please click on the text to read it, thank you!

Ice cream, pizza, cheeseburgers... I swear man (or woman) could live on these alone...

Virtual Book Club

Hello, I wanted to let you know I have started a virtual book club on Facebook. Please join in on the discussion, make suggestions, have fun with it.

The first book for the club (and the only one I will select without your help) is The Help because it is topical, provides and creates discussion, is coming to the theater this week and I am presently reading it.

I look forward to this internet book club and hope it will launch discussions and interest you in books you might not otherwise read.

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=248302398527799

OH BROTHER!

MY BROTHER, OH BOTHER!

A brother is a bother,
just take out one small “r”.
He bugs me in the bathroom!
He bugs me in the car!
Without the “r” in brother,
the word describes him clearly.
I’d like to try a different bro,
I think I’d like that dearly!

The one I have is older
and thinks it’s really great
to hold me down and torment me,
and sneak things onto my plate.
At dinner he takes vegetables
he doesn’t want to eat,
and puts them at my place,
and kicks me on my feet.

He whispers if I tell my mom,
he’ll pound me in our room.
So all those vegetables of his
I’ve no choice but to consume.
Bring me a new brother,
and make it really quick!
This one I have right now,
makes me mad and makes me sick!

This is another poem in my newest collection, Nitwittles, due out soon!

Nose Prints? Poems about Pooches.

I am thinking of Nose Prints as a title for a poetry collection ALL about dogs. I love this image and it would be used both as a jacket flap illustration as well as an interior.

Your rhyming submissions might go on the jacket flap and are being accepted through September 1, 2011. The rhyme should represent what dogs mean to us humans, something along the line of man's best friend... FUNNY, THOUGHTFUL, INTERESTING...

Send a four or eight line rhyme to me at justin@justinmatott.com or post it on the facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Works-of-Justin-Matott/213624096290?ref=ts (don't forget to LIKE the page on Facebook if you haven't) and if your poem is used you will receive credit on the acknowledgement page (no further remuneration, come on folks, we are doing this for fun, poetry doesn't make any money...) and an autographed book if and when it publishes.

Meanwhile, keep watching for Nitwittles poems here on my blog as well (chime in anytime your thoughts), and soon the book will be available on your ereaders and traditionally too!

BIG BAD MOTORCYCLE MAN (coming soon in Nitwittles)

My Dad was an English Professor and often did editing on my work as I developed it. He was able, generally, to read my work as he did many, many, many college students, with a sense of arms-length detachment, an editorial eye and red pen and could be constructively brutal about my writing.

He pulled no punches if he didn't like it, which I really appreciated and miss a lot! He also carefully doled out praise (usually with a little caveat) but I always knew he was in my corner, just wanting me to put out the very best work I was capable of. It was amazing to me to see my own dad become all business about my work, putting aside our relationship with objectivity.

All this to say my dad LOVED this poem. He told me it was his favorite poem of ALL of the poems I had written and he had reviewed at the time, which exceeded five hundred. SO, I have always remembered most the conversation we had about The BIG Bad Motorcycle Man that I based this poem on. I remember the way he laughed, the way we laughed. As a Dad, I know the only thing I want more than my own success is to watch my son's successes. I want more for them than I do for myself and my dad felt the very same way.

THIS POEM WAS WRITTEN WHILE WATCHING SOME GENTLEMEN AT MY LOCAL STARBUCKS, WHO - LIKE ME, RIDE HARLEY MOTORCYCLES.

PLEASE CLICK ON THE POEM BELOW TO BLOW IT UP ENOUGH TO READ IT. I HAVEN'T YET FIGURED OUT HOW TO SAVE THE FILE FROM THE MANUSCRIPT LARGE ENOUGH...

What have you watched today that you could sit down and write a poem or short story about?

PWOWIE, we will miss you!

A family is made of members who fit roles and sometimes establish new roles. In our family there were and are people and animals who acted like people.

In my house was a little cat.
She had no tail (manx).
She had three teeth (knocked most of them out).
She was 12 years old which in people years is 12 x 6 = 72.
She was a fun little buddy who loved to chase little toy mice and play hide n seek around our house.
She was sick when she was a kitten and never truly got over it, but even though a challenge, just a delightful little creature.
Her name began as Baby Ruth, then she took on many nicknames, the two that she was known far and wide by are P-Dubs and Pwowie.
She has her own facebook page made by one of my sons and has followers from Universities across the land. Join in https://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2385978946
Pwowie, became a legend. She was everyone's friend and would sit in any available lap. I am writing this because Pwowie was important to me, my family, my friends and the subject of many stories I have told over the years in my school visits.
It will be hard not having this little creature of mine sitting right in the middle of the floor, always in the way and always ready for anything.
Part of loving is losing and I have just lost one of my favorite little friends.
Rather than be too sad, I celebrate her place in my life for 12 years!
Pwowie, you were an original!
You were awesome in many ways and I'm glad we knew each other.

My very favorite memory of you was when Snickers was sick and dying and how you would lie on top of her and purr, desperately trying to heal her with your love. For hours we would pass the laundry room where Snickers was just too sick to get up. Her, wrapped in a blanket on her dog bed, and you perched on her shoulder.
It was amazing to see how much you loved your dog.
For weeks after Snickers was gone you looked for her. We humans can and do learn a lot from you and your kind.
I know you can't read, but perhaps now you are back with our beloved Snickers and she is reading to you. Now there was a dog!

I remember when I was eight years old coming home from church in mom's car and asking mom, "Mom, will heaven have dogs and cats?" Mom knowing how much my animals meant to me said, "Honey, everything you love here God will give you there." So that means I will see you again.

Rest in peace little Pwowie the P-Dub. I will always miss you.

A chapter from the next Gabriel Peters' book

What do you think of the following chapter? Would love some feedback...

GABRIEL PETERS AND THE SECRET DETECTIVE
BROTHERHOOD

Stories from the crawlspace clubhouse
Book 4 in the “GP” series



CHAPTER 6
THE GROSS-RIE STORE


It was the hottest day of summer so far. Mom said it would probably hit ninety-five degrees by noon and keep on climbing. It would have been a good day to just hang out at the lake where we could fish and jump in and out of the water and swim to the middle of the lake to cool off on the raft and later spend some time up in the tree house where the shade is good, but the guys and I had been planning our bike ride downtown for over a week and this time of year there weren’t any cool days, so we figured we would go ahead and tough it out.
We met down at Tunnel Number One and then took our bikes down the railroad tracks, bumping along in the middle on the railroad ties and talking about our plan if we saw a train coming. If we heard a train whistle coming from the south, fast action was required since we lived way out of town the train really picked up speed until it slowed for town.
Butch said, “Remember that time we were cruising the ties and that train came out of nowhere and was barreling down behind us?” We all started chiming in about what we each remembered most about it.
We were over Tunnel Number Three which is the tunnel that has the really, really steep trail leading up to the tracks and the only way off the track was pitching it down the hill. I pulled off the railroad tracks first, pointing my bike down the trail and rode my stingray down the thin, bumpy dirt trail along the tunnel and ended up riding it all the way down, hitting the jump at the bottom, getting great air and looking oh so cool and then cruising down in the grassy valley, making it look so easy and so did Butch, who was trailing right behind me. But Tony panicked halfway down the trail he pulled his front wheel up too high then tumbled down the hill with his bike bouncing along behind him, the bike barely missing him as it passed him and hurled itself bouncing off the side of the cliff and splashing down into the murky water and Tony was rolling along after it when he went sideways over the embankment falling about fifteen feet into the muddy water below landing almost right on top of his bike.
Butch and I were laughing so hard that it made Tony mad and he yanked his bike out of the water and pushed it home and didn’t talk to us for a couple days. But a few nights later we were all down at the streetlight and he showed up to play hide-n-seek like nothing had ever happened.
We swapped stories like that as we bumped along the tracks, laughing and practicing our spitting distances. It was the long way to where we were headed, but we were going the fun way. Then we pulled onto the road that ran along the railroad tracks through most of town.
We had ridden the ties one time through town and a police officer pulled up behind us with his lights on and everything. He made us all sit next to the tracks for a long time while he gave us a lecture about the dangers of being on the tracks and told us it was illegal to ride the ties in the middle of the tracks like that and if he ever saw us doing that again he would call our mothers. We all promised never to ride downtown on the tracks like that again, but we didn’t promise not to way out in the country where we were sure it wasn’t even illegal.
So we all got off of our bikes about halfway through town and put playing cards in our spokes. There was a part of downtown that was surrounded by tall buildings and when you rode through there with cards in your spokes it sounded like you were in a real life motorcycle gang. We got back on our bikes and rode alongside the railroad tracks on the road downtown.
“H-Hey since w-w-we are g-going to the grocery store, should w-we do a Gross-Rie d-dare off?” Andy asked excitedly.
“NO WAY LAMO! My mom is working today! You want free bakery stuff or not?” Tony barked.
Andy weaved his bike toward Tony’s like he was going to run him off the road, “G-Geez, don’t g-get your underwear in a kn-knot, I was j-just saying…”
“Guys! Cut it out!” I yelled over the loud sound of their shouting and the cards in my spokes that were echoing off the tall buildings along the tracks.
We talked about staging a grocery store dare-off soon when we were up in the tree house last, but never decided on when. We called it a GROSS-RIE STORE DARE OFF since the ideas we had were so disgusting.
The way it works is you would walk down the aisle and choose something the other guy had to eat AND he had to pay for it, but your turn was coming so you had to decide if you were going to be brutal which meant the next time you were in for it or if you just picked stuff that wasn’t so bad, but not what a normal person would choose. The rule of the game was that you had to eat every bite of the items chosen for you either until it was gone or until it made you puke.
Everyone put their name in a hat, and one by one the names were pulled out and the person holding your name would be choosing your lunch. Andy and I always prayed we would get each other because we were best friends and would go easy on each other. We knew what the other liked and we would make combinations that might sound gross to some people but we knew each other well enough to know it would be okay.
Like the time I made Andy eat beef jerky and marshmallows. He was supposed to smash them up together according to the game, but by the time he opened up his bags everyone was so focused on their own junk they didn’t even notice that he was eating them separately. That is the best part about being best friends, you know what your buddy likes most and Beef Jerky and Marshmallows were what Andy liked most. He picked fried chicken gizzards and wintergreen Certs for me. Butch started to complain because he also knew that I always got chicken gizzards when we went to Safeway, but eating them with Wintergreen Certs wasn’t something I did and the bad thing was Butch watched me like a hawk, so I had to mix them and it was pretty gross. But even so, Andy was doing me a favor by picking my favorites and then I didn’t feel like I had wasted my own money on junk I didn’t like.
Sometimes you would choose something that was yummy like a Snickers bar, but then the person that was going to eat it had to wrap it in sauerkraut or dip it in pickle juice or something like that. Other Gross-rie dare-offs were; a loaf of white Wonderbread soaked in the juice of canned red beets until it was so soggy you had to eat it with a spoon and that was after you ate all the cold, yucky beets or three bananas smashed up and mixed with all of the little packets of stuff you got back by the deli, which would include hot, red peppers, salt, pepper, ketchup, mustard, soy sauce, relish, hot sauce, sugar, creamer, salad dressing, mayonnaise and the worst thing ever made to eat by anyone; Miracle whip.
One time I had to eat a stale fruitcake that was in the bargain bin for fifty cents soaked in ketchup, yellow mustard and pickle relish, the inside part wasn’t so bad, but the stuff that got the bready part soggy almost made me hurl.
But, the worst backfire was the time Andy had to eat raw stomach soaked in hot sauce, the butcher called it ‘Tripe’. Andy isn’t one to chicken out. He has so many big brothers that nothing ever really phases him. Butch was really mad at him about something so he was the one who dared him to eat the Tripe with a whole bottle of hot sauce poured over it. Andy had taken about three bites and was plugging his nose to get it down when everything from the freshly eaten tripe to the morning’s breakfast came up and out. Everyone started to gag just looking at the mess on the ground.
As we were getting close to the Safeway we all agreed we for sure shouldn’t do the Gross-rie store dare-off because Tony’s mom was working and we didn’t want to spoil what was in store for us when we got there.
We headed for the Safeway store to get lunch. Tony’s mom worked in the bakery and if Tony gave her a heads up that we were all coming she always gave us the day-old Danish and junk. We didn’t care if it was a day old, a week old or a month old, a whole bag of Danish, donuts and long johns tasted good all the time.
We left our bikes propped up in the front of the store where the carts are kept and ran into the big store. We trotted back to the bakery first. When Tony’s mom saw me she said, “Well hello Gabriel, I see you still have at least one sweet tooth left!” The way she said tooth told me she was making some kind of comment about the time I had swiped her kid’s old, rotten pulled out teeth and I felt kind of sheepish.
“Yeah… I said I was sorry…” I muttered.
“Honey, I am just kidding with you.” Tony’s mom gave me a little hug.
“Mom, what’ve you got for us today?” Tony whispered, like it was some big secret that his mom gave us stale baked goods.
We talked to Tony’s mom for a little while and then she handed us two bags stuffed totally full of good stuff. She said, “You boys have to pay for these today, they aren’t free anymore.”
We walked about ten feet away from the bakery and I looked at Tony like he himself had betrayed us. “What gives with that? I didn’t bring that much money!”
“Yeah, what good is it to have a mom in the bakery if we don’t get free junk?” Butch snarled
“I d-don’t have t-t-too much m-money either!” Andy stammered.
“Cool it guys!” Tony snarled and pushed one of the bags in our faces. The price on the tag was fifteen cents.
Tony’s mom had come up behind us, “A penny a piece boys, a penny apiece.” She laughed and headed into the back of the bakery.
“That’s weird.” I said
“Mom told me it is okay to give away the day old stuff, but her manager needs her to do it that way because of inventory. She gave me fifty cents to cover it and these two bags are only thirty-two cents, so zip it you bunch of goons!”
“Goons? Who us?” I said sarcastically, “Goons are our brothers, not us, you big dork!”
“Who you calling dork?” Tony set the bags on a shelf and put me in a headlock and started to give me a wet willie.
“GROSS!” I pulled away from him, but my elbow caught a bunch of cans and they went tumbling to the ground making a huge racket.
Over the loudspeaker the manager’s voice boomed, “BOYS IN AISLE TWELVE, KNOCK IT OFF! IF YOU WANT TO BE ALLOWED BACK IN THE STORE RETURN THE CANS TO THE SHELVES AND SETTLE DOWN!”
All the other shoppers turned and looked at us. I hope my face wasn’t as red as Tony’s. Just then Tony’s mom rounded the corner. “Just what do you two think you are doing?”
“Nothing!” we both said at the same time and then scrambled to return the cans of lima beans to the shelf.
“Do you want to get me fired?” Tony’s mom asked with her hands on her hips.
“NO…” we both said under our breath, kind of ashamed of ourselves.
The manager rounded the corner and looked at the cans still lying on the floor, “Two of these cans are dented now. I can’t sell them, so you boys will have to buy them.”
Tony’s mom disappeared before the fireworks began. “Uh sure…” Tony stammered. “How much?”
“One dollar a piece.” The manager snarled.
“A buck!” I just watched my can of Pringles disappear for some lousy dented lima beans and it wasn’t even my fault. If Tony hadn’t been trying to spit up my ear I never would have knocked them off the shelf.
“Those are pretty expensive for some lousy beans…” Tony muttered and then as he was setting the last can on the shelf he said, “Hey, this tag says they’re only twenty-nine cents! What gives with the buck?”
“Denting charge.” The manager chuckled.
“DENTING CHARGE?” we both said at the same time.
“Don’t worry about it, I am just kidding. I’ll put them on our half price bargain bin. Just clean up your mess and stop messing around inside the store!” He called over the top of the aisle toward the bakery, “Louise, you sure have a gullible boy here!”
We walked away from the aisle, grabbing our baked goods and Tony whispered, “What’s gullible mean Peters?”
“Means you are totally lame.” I answered and then hustled away from him to see what was cooking back in the lunch area. That was a close one. The last thing I would want to eat for lunch was a cold can of overpriced lima beans. After we picked out some stuff, we walked over to the freezer part, where the ice cream is kept and pushed our faces down onto the frost. “Mmmmmm, that feels great! It is so, so hot today!” I complained.
Murph, Butch and Andy had wisely distanced themselves from us and they were wandering around the store getting all of their favorites for our picnic lunch. Murph grabbed a hot plastic plate from the warmer with chicken gizzards and livers and a tall coke. “GonnatryyourfavoritetodayPeters!KindoflikeArmyrations…”
I rolled my eyes and got a can of Pringles and a big beef jerky stick and a red cream soda. “Uh, I don’t eat the livers.” I said nodding my head at his platter.
Murph was too proud or something to put it back and get just gizzards, “Yeahwellthat’smyfavoritepart!” he sneered, but I knew he had never tried one really. So we walked up to the front together, on side of my face felt like a frozen popsicle, numb like when the dentist put some kind of junk in my mouth so he could pull one of my baby teeth once.
Andy had the weirdest lunch I have ever seen: he got some snowballs; which are those nasty gloppy marshmallowy coconut covered chocolate things, a Mountain Dew, two packs of Slim Jims and a pink grapefruit. “Gotta k-k-keep my strength up. S-Starting K-K-Karate l-lessons next w-w-eek!”
“Yeah some Karate lessons huh? Just your big brother punching you around in the basement if you ask me.” Tony snarled.
“Shut up Tony!” I snarled, “Andy could whup your butt now, even without Karate.”
“Oh, I am so scared.” Tony gave Andy and me a dirty look then grabbed a small jar of peanut butter and a jar of jelly and a box of saltine crackers.
“You better get something to drink buddy! That is going to dry your mouth out!” I laughed.
Andy looked at the ground, “C-C-Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m out of m-money.”
I pulled fifty cents out of my pocket and pushed it into his hand.
“Th-Thanks!” Andy went for the cold soda bin.
Butch came running up to the check out line, “I didn’t get anything yet! Wait up guys!”
“We’vebeenhereforhoursman,whathaveyoubeendoing?” Murph sneered.
“Reading the new Mad Magazine! What me worry?” Butch shrugged and had a dopey grin on his face like Alfred E. Newman.
“HURRY UP!” we all yelled.
So Butch ran around and came back with a big box of fudgesicles and a box of Otter Pops. “WhatareyougoingtodowithOtterPops?Theyhavetobefrozenyoudummy!” Murph laughed.
“Say’syouArmyDork!” Butch’s face got all red and he thumped Murph’s shoulder hard.
“Ow,yougavemeafrogbubble!” Murph screamed. The manager gave us a dirty look and we all shushed Murph.
I frowned, “But, seriously Butchie, you have to eat Otter Pops frozen!”
“No way, this is the best way to eat Otter Pops, it’s like super sweet Koolaid!” Butch insisted.
“What a dork!” Tony laughed. “Let’s go!” We went through the checkout and carried all of our loot to our bikes. When we left the air-conditioned store it felt like we had walked right into a sauna. My face tingled. It was so hot Butch’s Fudgesicles immediately began to melt and by the time he had chewed one down the rest were seeping out of the box. “Here guys, help me eat these. They ain’t gonna last! But you have to share your stuff with me then!”
Tony laughed, “Good thing you didn’t freeze those otter pops, wouldn’t have done any good.”
“See, I ain’t as dumb as you think!” Butch argued.
“You is if you says ain’t all the time.” I laughed.
“Nice grammar Peters.”
“Uh, that was intentional if you didn’t notice.” I laughed and shoved a Fudgesicle in my mouth.
We got on our bikes and started peddling toward the City Park. Murph was riding with one hand on the handlebar and with the other took one of the chicken livers out of the steaming package and stuffed it into his mouth. He got the worst look on his face, “YuckPetersyoulikethisnastystuff?” He threw one at Tony’s head.
“Watch it dummy!” Tony yowled.
“I told you I only like the gizzards, never livers, you weirdo!” I started to laugh. Murph pulled another liver out and threw at me. It whizzed right past my head. Then he threw one at a dog that was walking up the sidewalk. The dog sniffed it and wolfed it down and looked at us as we passed, hoping for another one. He started to trot after us and then just sat on the sidewalk under a shady tree. It was just too hot to run. The whole way down the street Murph was pelting us with livers.
“Try another one of the gizzards dummy! They might grow on you.” I weaved and yelled over the crackling of the cards in my spokes.
“NowayI’mnotputtinganotheroneofthosenastythinginmymouth!” Murphed yelled.
“Seriously, they are great! Don’t throw them too! I’ll eat them if you don’t want them! They don’t taste like the livers!” I yelled ducking a thrown one.
We wheeled our way down the side of one of the busiest streets in town, heading west to City Park. When we got near you could hear all the crazy kids on the other side of the lake that were cooling off in the big pool. You could smell the popcorn and cotton candy from the snack shack near the pool as we rounded the lake. “Man, that’s making me so hungry!” We have like ten thousand pounds of food and don’t forget our bakery bags!” I said as I dumped my bike in the grass and ran for the shaded picnic tables near the lake.
We were all so hot we sat right down by the lake, tore our shoes off and soaked our feet in the nasty, oily water. You could see all kinds of duck and goose poop floating and on the grass, but we didn’t care. We all stuffed our faces and the Pringles were making me so thirsty, I chugged down my whole bottle of red cream soda and then wished I would have paced myself. In a few minute I was going to be thirsty again.
We divided all the bakery stuff up evenly with a little bit of argument about who was going to get the two raspberry filled, I ended up with one, but gave half to Andy. I was getting stuffed and threw a piece of a long john at some geese that were hoping for a handout. All of a sudden they were honking and moving over each other to get closer to us. We all started throwing little chunks of baked goods onto the water and tried to throw it where it made them swim and fight for it. One of the geese rushed the shore and ran right up Butch’s leg. He started screaming and the goose got spooked and flapped his way back to the safety of the water. Almost as soon as we were down to the last crumbs from the bakery bags they started to swim away to see what other people sitting around the lake might have.
We spent the rest of the afternoon lying around in the sun. Going back and forth from the pool to the park where we had swinging and singing contests. You had to pick a dumb song and sing it in the rhythm of your swinging and the goal was to kick hard enough that you were swinging back and forth really fast so your song went faster and faster. The funniest one was Murph because he already talked so fast that when he sang he sang even faster and so off tune other people in the park were covering their ears and making comments about how he could make a dog cry with that voice.
Murph didn’t care, matter of fact it seemed to encourage him to sing even louder and even more off tune, “THEANTSGOMARCHINGONEBYONHURRAHHURRAHTHEANTSGOMARCHINGONEBYONEHURRAHHURRAHTHEANTSGOMARCHINGONEBYONETHELITTLEONESTOPSTOSUCKBUTCHESTHUMBANDBUTCHGOESCRYINGHOME!THEANTSGOMARCHINGTWOBYTWOHURRAHHURRAHTHEANTSGOMARCHINGTWOBYTWOHURRAHHURRAHTHEANTSGOMARCHINGTWOBYTWOTHELITTLEONESTOPSTOTAKEAPOORIGHTONTONY’SFOOT…”
“So mature Murph!” Tony scowled, but we were all laughing and you should have seen the look on some of the mom’s faces who were pushing their little kids around the merry-go-round. Some of them looked kind of mad. Some of them were laughing.
Then we saw Mrs. O’Malley, our school’s librarian heading right toward us. It was pretty weird to see a teacher or librarian out of the school building. Why would she be there? Didn’t she live at school? What did she want? I wondered. Then I remembered my overdue book charge that I never took care of before school was out and I took off running through the trees toward the lake.
All the guys followed me and I yelled, “We gotta get out of here!” before you knew it, we were pedaling noisily down the street toward the railroad tracks that would lead us back home.

Cowboys and Aliens All Mixed Up is on itunes!

1728 delightfully rendered alien cowboys are now an app on itunes for the ipad! Aliens All Mixed Up is also an app on itunes for the ipad! The next mix and match book we are developing for both print and ipad is Pooches All Mixed Up. In development (Hollywood talk for in the author's brain) are Dinos All Mixed Up, Monster Mamas All mixed up and more. If you have the traditional Aliens All Mixed Up in the "old fashioned" book form, please let readers know what you think of it (amazon.com has a great easy forum for reviews). I thank you for reading this and hope your ipad will soon be buzzing with aliens and cowboys ALL MIXED UP!

Aliens All Mixed Up and Cowboys and Aliens All Mixed Up on iTunes!

Aliens All Mixed Up is available on itunes now for only $2.99. This week Cowboys and Aliens All Mixed Up will be coming out for only $2.99. That is 1728 different combinations in each book. That is only $.000173032 per alien!