Revenge of the Lawn Gnomes by R. L. Stine Page B

Get it!” I cried.
    Moose jumped up from behind the bush. Just in time—to see it scamper away.
    “A raccoon! It was only a raccoon!”
    I let out a long sigh. “Sorry, Moose.”
    We sat there a while longer. We parted the branches every few minutes to
check on the gnomes. My arms were scratched raw from the rough needles.
    But the gnomes hadn’t budged. They stood grinning into the night in their
silly suits and caps.
    I groaned. My legs felt stiff and cramped.
    Moose checked his watch. “We’ve been out here for over two hours,” he
whispered. “Those gnomes aren’t going anywhere. I’m going home.”
    “Wait a little longer,” I begged him. “We’ll catch them. I know we will.”
    “You’re a pretty good guy,” Moose said as he parted the bushes for the
millionth time. “So I hate to tell you this, Joe. But you’re as crazy as—”
    He didn’t finish his sentence. His mouth dropped open, and his eyes nearly
popped out of his pudgy head.
    I peered into the shrubs—in time to see the gnomes come to life. They
stretched their arms over their heads. And stroked their chins.
    They shook out their legs. And smoothed out their shirts.
    “They—they’re moving !” Moose cried.
    Too loudly.
    And then I lost my balance and fell. Right into the bush.
    They’ve seen us, I realized.
    Now what?

 
 
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    “No. Oh, man. No!” Moose whispered. He tugged me to my feet. “They’re moving.
They’re really moving!”
    Squinting through the branches, we both stared in horror at Hap and Chip.
    The gnomes bent their knees, limbering up. Then they each took one stiff
step. Then another.
    I was right. They are alive, I thought. Very alive.
    And they’re coming for Moose and me.
    We have to run, I told myself. We have to get out of here.
    But neither of us could take our eyes off the living lawn gnomes!
    The full moon suddenly appeared low over the trees. The front lawn lit as if
someone had turned on a spotlight. The stocky figures swung their short, fat
arms and began to run. Their pointed hats cut through the air like sharks’ fins.
    They scrambled toward us on their stumpy legs.
    Moose and I dropped to our knees and tried to hide. My whole body was
trembling so hard, I was making the bush shake!
    The gnomes ran closer. So close that I could see the dark red of their evil
eyes and the white gleam of their grins.
    I clenched my fists so tightly, my hands ached.
    What were they going to do to us?
    I shut my eyes—and heard them run past. I heard thudding footsteps.
Whistling breaths.
    I opened my eyes to see them racing across the cement walk and around the
side of the house.
    “Moose—they didn’t see us!” I whispered happily.
    We helped each other to our feet. I felt dizzy. The dark ground tilted. My
legs felt soft and rubbery like Jell-O.
    Moose wiped his sweaty brow. “Where are they going?” he whispered.
    I shook my head. “I don’t know. But we have to follow them. Come on.”
    We gave each other a quick thumbs-up and stepped out from our hiding place. I
led the way. We moved across the cement walk and past the front porch. Toward
the side of the house.
    I stopped when I heard their raspy voices, talking low. Just up ahead.
    Moose grabbed my shoulder, his eyes wide open in alarm. “I’m getting out of
here. Now!”
    I turned around. “No!” I pleaded. “You’ve got to stay and help me catch them. We have to show our parents what’s been going
on here.”
    He heaved a long sigh. It made me feel a little better to know that a big,
tough guy like Moose was as frightened as I was. Finally, he nodded. “Okay.
Let’s go get them.”
    Keeping in the dark shadow of the house, we made our way around to the back.
I saw Buster, sound asleep beside his dog house in the center of the yard.
    And then I saw the two lawn gnomes. They were bent over the pile of paint and
brushes and drop cloths the painters had left beside the garage.
    Moose and I hung back as Hap and Chip picked up