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Halloween in Fulton River

C. Patrick Murphy

    Tina and her parents didn’t approve of Halloween, but for little Brianne’s sake they agreed to a compromise. The family would ignore supernatural trappings associated with the holiday, instead treating it as a celebration leading to a masquerade ball. Brianne had no concept of ghosts, witches, or goblins. The skeletons and black cats displayed in neighborhood homes or downtown storefronts were meaningless decorations to her. For Tina and Brianne, Halloween was a celebration of autumn, a glorification of God’s changing seasons. Others could dwell on the macabre and the evil; the Waldon family would give thanks for the good.
    During the week preceding Halloween, they ate bowls of hot buttered popcorn and drank mugs of cold spiced cider. Tina’s dad carved a jack-o-lantern sporting a benign happy face. Tina’s mom dipped caramel apples and assembled bouquets of colorful autumn flowers, bittersweet, and grasses. Tina and Brianne collected brightly colored leaves, pressed them between the pages of a heavy book, then coated them with a thin veneer of paraffin. For her daughter’s costume, Tina found a boxed pink and lavender princess outfit at the hardware store. She bought the costume a size too big so Bree could wear it again next year.
    Tina thought a simple plastic bread bag or discarded grocery sack would suffice for collecting trick or treat goodies, but her mom disagreed. They maintained a household free of potential hazards, vigilance which included storing plastic bags in a drawer inaccessible to the two-year old. Tina’s mom didn’t want her granddaughter to begin thinking of plastic bags as potential toys. She found an old wicker Easter basket in a closet, cleaned it up, and decorated it with a small pink ribbon.
    “Say ‘trick or treat,’ Brianne,” Tina’s dad said. He held a small candy bar behind his back. Brianne, dressed in her princess costume, looked quizzically at her mother. What was Grandpa up to?
    “Trick or treat, Bree,” Tina encouraged. “Say ‘trick or treat.’”
    “Trick or treat,” Brianne said softly.
    With a flourish, Tina’s dad dropped the candy bar into Brianne’s basket. Brianne’s puzzled expression changed to one of astonishment.
    Tina put on her heavy winter jacket. She hadn’t been outside much during the preceding week, busy with school and work and her daughter. The sights and sounds Tina associated with late autumn took place inside her house. The rooms smelled of cinnamon, apples, and caramel. Her mom pulled out their winter clothes from storage, and now the back bedroom smelled of damp wool and mothballs. There was the greasy feel of pumpkin guts and seeds squishing between her fingers as she helped carve the jack-o-lantern. Her family’s comforting routine formed a vivid backdrop for memories.
    Once outside, Tina saw that autumn had descended on Fulton River like a prairie sunset, covering the town in burnished fiery hues. The trees in town and in the timber beyond became vast bouquets of scarlet, golden, and russet. Mums in neighborhood gardens mirrored the forests in miniature, forming deeply colored mounds. Jack-o-lanterns flickered on porches, while yellow, white, and green gourds decorated windowsills and countertops. The town was beautiful, as enchanting as any rustic kingdom from a story book.
    Tina had planned her first Halloween trick or treating with Brianne very carefully. They would visit only the homes belonging to friends – mainly members of their church - all of whom had been warned in advance of their arrival. Although dusk had not yet settled in and they would return home long before nightfall, Tina carried a large flashlight for safety. She noted several parents accompanying toddlers who were similarly equipped.
    Pastor Tim’s was the first house on their itinerary. The big man was clearing the newest crop of leaves from his yard, his rake scratching against the ground, drawing up heaping mounds. He smiled and called a greeting when he saw Tina and Brianne. Mary Lou answered the door. She dropped a handful of root beer barrels and a mimeographed Bible verse into Brianne’s basket. “Your daughter looks lovely,” Mary Lou said. “I believe she could pass for a real fairy princess.”
    Chill moist air carried the smoke from Pastor Tim’s burning leaves. A little boy about five years old ran down the sidewalk to greet them. He was dressed as Frankenstein, and carried a plastic cauldron in which to collect his goodies. The little boy’s mother followed close behind; like Tina, she carried a large flashlight.
    “They got popcorn balls over there,” said the tiny Frankenstein. “Want us to wait for you?”
    “I’m Elise,” said Frankenstein’s mother. “And this is Josh.”
    “Nice to meet you Elise, Josh. My name is Tina, and this is Brianne.”
    “I’m not Josh. I’m Frankiestein.” The little boy growled and curled his hands into pink claws.
    The popcorn ball house wasn’t on their list, but Josh and his mother were waiting. It would be nice to have adult company this evening, and maybe Tina could steer their new companions towards houses she knew.
    “Shall we try this house, Bree? Do you know what to say?”
    “Trick or treat,” said Brianne, holding the basket up expectantly towards her mother.
    “Let’s wait ‘til we get to the door.”
    Elise and Josh were waiting for them when Tina and Brianne retuned a few minutes later. A green popcorn ball wrapped in cellophane had been added to Brianne’s treats.
    “I’ll walk with you,” Josh said importantly, grabbing on to Brianne’s hand.
    “They’re so cute together,” Elise said. “I brought my camera along. Okay to take a picture before the night’s over?”
    “I’m sure they’d love that,” Tina said. “We’re only going to houses we know,” she added. Josh and Brianne marched hand in hand up to the next door. The porch light shone brightly, indicating that the household was participating in trick or treat night.
    “Oh, I know. You can’t be too careful,” Elise said. “These folks’re okay. You know the Pools?”
    “Sure. Mr. Pool comes into the restaurant where I work all the time.”
    “You work uptown then?”
    “Mmm-hmm. Yellow Submarine.”
    “We’ve eaten there. Food’s really good.”
    Brianne held up her basket for her mother’s inspection. A small package of Gummi Bears nestled next to the popcorn ball.
    “That’s wonderful, Bree. Did you remember to say ‘thank you’?”
    “Yes she did,” Josh reported. “And the lady at the door said she was very cute.”
    “Is Brianne your little sister,” Elise asked after the children headed up the sidewalk. “She’s precious.”
    “Thanks. She’s my daughter.”
    “Oh,” said Elise.
    Elise took Josh’s hand from Brianne. They continued down the block, trick or treating the final few houses. “This is where we finish up,” Elise announced.
    “Aw,” Josh protested.
    “Now, you! It’s getting late. Nice meeting you, Brianne.”
    “We still have a few houses left,” Tina said. “Maybe we’ll see you around.”
    “Bye,” said Elise. She did not offer again to take the children’s picture together.
    Josh looked back over his shoulder and waved as he and his mother hurried down the sidewalk. Elise did not look back, but kept a firm grip on her son’s hand. A flock of children and their parents passed by Tina and Brianne. Tina didn’t ask to join them, though there were still a few church members she wanted to visit before calling it a night. It might be best to continue with Brianne alone.
    After making their rounds, Tina thought she and Bree might pay a brief visit to The Yellow Submarine Sandwiche Shoppe. There might be a good crowd tonight dining out with their kids. Derrick was working tonight, and Tina wanted him to see Brianne in her princess costume.

    Drew didn’t usually leave the door to his bedroom open, and Chris was unsure whether this signified an invitation or an oversight. He hovered at the threshold of his brother’s bedroom, ready to dodge projectiles or profanities. Drew had been grounded for weeks, though Chris suspected he’d been able to sneak out a few times. The punishment seemed excessive, and Drew’s mercurial temperament made his brother cautious.
    The desk lamp provided the only light in the room. Drew hunched over a stack of papers scattered across the desk.
    “Whacha doin,” Chris asked tentatively.
    “Algebra.” Drew’s tone indicated a safely mellow mood.
    Concluding that the open door was an invitation to enter, Chris hopped up onto his brother’s bed, propped himself against the headboard, and hugged his knees to his chest. Dressed in commando garb, his face mottled with camouflage make-up, Chris was ready for the Halloween festivities. Tanner’s dad would be coming to pick him up soon, but Chris didn’t want to go downstairs just yet. Miss Brockton had come over to help pass out candy.
    “Think Halloween’s my favorite time of year,” Chris said.
    “I like Christmas,” Drew replied.
    “Yeah, Christmas is cool, but I still like Halloween. Weather’s usually still nice. Other stuff goin’ on. Football. Hayrack rides. Can still get outside and do stuff.”
    “Big break at Christmas,” Drew countered. Snowball fights. Forts. Snowmobilin’.”
    “If there’s snow.” Chris thought for a minute. “Think Dad’d get us a snowmobile for Christmas?”
    “Kiddin’ me? On what a teacher makes?”
    “Bet he’d get us one if he could afford it.”
    “Yeah, maybe.” Drew erased a mistake on his paper. Pink eraser crumbs scattered across the desk.
    “Maybe Mom’ll get us one.”
    “Don’t count on it.” There was a bitter cast to Drew’s voice.
    Last year, their mother had sent them each a Christmas card containing a $100.00 gift certificate to The Gap. Teenage boys, she’d written inside their cards, were too difficult to shop for. She hoped they’d get something they needed, and didn’t waste their certificates on something frivolous.
    “Yeah, prolly not.” Chris rested his cheek against his knees. He wished Mom would come home for Christmas, but he knew she was busy with her law practice. And mentioning the possibility would only put Drew in a grumpier mood.
    “Somethin’ else I like about Halloween,” Chris continued, “goin’ out and prankin’ people.”
    “Best watch who ya prank. Prank the wrong dudes and they’ll beat the shit outta ya.” Drew jammed his pencil into the electric sharpener. “No eggs. No soap. And don’t go swipin’ little kids’ candy. That’s chickenshit.”
    Chris’s head popped up from his knee. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ like that. Osland wouldn’t do nothin’ like that.”
    “Raber might.”
    “Raber’s a animal,” Chris agreed. “Conklin wouldn’t do nothin’ like that though. None a us would.”
    “Shit. Conklin’s likely ta get his candy swiped by little kids.”
    They both laughed at the image.
    When they were little, the brothers reveled in the weeks leading up to Halloween. Even last year, Drew had really gotten into the spirit of the season. They’d set up an entire fake cemetery with ghosts and skeletons in the front yard. Tonight would be just another night for Drew.
    “Sorry you can’t go out with us. I’ll give you some of my candy.” Drew hadn’t accompanied his brother trick or treating in years, but Chris didn’t know what else to say.
    Drew finally looked up from his desk. “Get your feet off my bed, you little slob.”
    A horn sounded from the driveway.
    “There’s Oslands. Bye.”
    Chris’s plastic jack-o-lantern thumped hollowly against his leg as he bounded down the stairs. His dad and Miss Brockton sat on the couch, a big bowl of buttered popcorn resting on the cushions between them. A second smaller bowl of candy and an enormous squirt gun loaded with ice cold water waited on the end table. Few trick or treaters made it into the country, but Dad liked to be prepared for both.
    “Got your flashlight,” Dad asked.
    “Here in my pocket.”
    “Watch for cars,” Miss Brockton added.
    “Whatever. Back in a couple hours.”
    “By ten. No later,” Dad said.
    “Whatever. See ya.”
    Mr. Schleich’s combine droned in the distance, its headlights sweeping across the field. A flock of birds heading south had landed in the big maple, apparently deciding to overnight in Fosters’ yard. The adjacent field would provide grain for their breakfast, and Chris’s dad added fresh water to the birdbaths. The birds called noisy encouragement to each other from the branches of the tree.
    “Hey, Chris,” said Mr. Osland. “Lookin’ good.” In his orange polo shirt, Tanner’s dad resembled Garfield, the cartoon cat.
    “Thanks, Mr. Osland. Appreciate your comin’ out and givin’ me a ride.”
    Tanner, costumed as a scarecrow, rode shotgun. Vance Raber, wearing a black cape and long fangs, sat directly behind Mr. Osland.
    “Still have to pick up Conklin,” Tanner said.
    Bobby, dressed all in white and with his face coated with phosphorescent paint, was waiting for the ride on his front porch. In the gathering dusk, he stood out like a plump cloud against a gray sky. Bobby was teasing his cat with a laser light, flickering the red dot across the lawn, now clicking it off, now making the dot appear on the cat’s paw. The befuddled cat twirled and weaved and pounced at the peripatetic spot. When he saw Oslands’ car approaching, Bobby hoisted the cat by the scruff of her neck and tossed her back into the house.
    “Scoot over, Raber,” Bobby said, hurling the car door open.
    “No way, dude. I got the window seat.”
    Bobby huffed as he clambered over Vance Raber. “Why aincha wearin’ a costume, Tanner,” he asked.
    “Funny. What’re you supposed to be? The Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man?”
    “I’m a ghost, retard.”
    “Uh-huh. ‘The Ghost of Christmas Fats,’” Raber laughed.
    “Okay, boys,” said Mr. Osland. “Pick you up here in front of the library in an hour and a half. Got your watches?” It was seven o’clock. “And you remember,” Mr. Osland said, pointing at Tanner, “no funny stuff. Any problems tonight and you won’t leave your room for a week. Got it?”
    “Right, Dad. No funny stuff.”
    The past few weeks of autumn transformed Fulton River into a brilliant kaleidoscope of sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch. There had been leaf piles and bonfires and hayrack rides. The air smelled of smoke and rain; windows reflected late afternoon sunlight the color of honey. The boys gorged on hotdogs and popcorn at high school football games, caramel apples and candy corn at relatives’ houses, and pork roasts and earthy vegetables at home. They reveled in the season, and tonight autumn culminated with trick or treat night.
    “Whadya wanna do now,” Raber asked after Mr. Osland had driven away.
    “Kiddin’? Let’s make the rounds,” Tanner said. “Last Halloween for trick or treat ever. Can’t go when you’re in high school.”
    “Let’s find some girls ta go with us,” Raber said.
    “Screw that,” Bobby answered. “I’m gettin’ me some candy now.”
    “Me, too,” Chris added.
    “No point missin’ out,” Tanner said to Vance Raber. “Let’s go.”
    Their buckets were heavy after canvassing several blocks. Chris was relieved to see other members of his class costumed and begging for candy. Some pretended to accompany younger siblings, others barely dressed up, but none of them fooled Chris for a minute. As immature as it seemed, a lot of eighth graders still went trick or treating.
    “Uh-oh,” Bobby said. “Here comes trouble.”
    Three witches, their faces painted green, gathered around a fire hydrant. They cackled menacingly when they saw the four boys approaching.
    “Tanner,” shrieked one, as she embraced the scarecrow. “Give us a hug.”
    “Hey Amber,” Chris said to the second witch. “How’s it goin’?”
    “Didn’t think you was comin’ out,” the witch said crossly. “Told me you guys were stayin’ in playin’ video games.”
    “Well, ya know how it is,” Chris stammered. “Kind of a last minute deal. Conklin’s idea.”
    “Me,” Bobby exclaimed, his mouth smeared with chocolate.
    “Lookit what that preacher’s wife is givin’ out,” Meghan Hinshaw said as she released Tanner from her iron grip. She pulled a small sheet of paper from her cauldron. “Some kinda Bible sayin’.” Meghan crumpled the paper and dropped it into the storm drain.
    “‘Mind me not to go there,” Bobby said.
    “Got your math for tomorrow done,” Amber asked, obviously not willing to let up. Chris began to wish he had stayed home and played video games, even if Miss Brockton was lurching about the place.
    “Sure,” he answered. “Pretty simple.”
    “Oh, suppose it would be, if you have your tutor do it for you.” Amber’s voice dripped venom.
    “Hey! She didn’t’ do ‘em for me. Did ‘em all myself.”
    “I’m sure you did. Been doin’ a lot by yourself lately, haven’t you?”
    “Whoa,” Tanner said.
    Amber was glaring at Chris, ready to go, when an egg landed with a wet splat on her shoulder. Egg yolk and slime crusted with white shell dribbled down the front of Amber’s black dress.
    “Eeewww,” said Bobby Conklin. “That’s a egg!”
    “Really,” Tanner said, spinning like Bobby’s cat as he searched for the culprit. “May we quote you?”
    Moronic laughter emanated from behind a denuded lilac bush.
    “Sorry, sweetheart,” Kazense said, stepping out from behind the thicket. “That was meant for your little boyfriend there.”
    Chris stepped protectively in front of Amber. “You’re not funny, Kazense. Coulda hurt her.”
    “Wanna see somethin’ funny,” asked Fat Bob Dent. He hurled a second egg from point blank range directly into Chris’s pumpkin. The egg shattered amidst the candy within. “Now that’s fuckin’ funny, punk.” Fat Bob gave Chris a shove that sent him sprawling onto the lawn.
    Jarvis smacked Bobby alongside the head. The egg he was holding splattered in Bobby’s hair. “That’s funny, too,” Jarvis said.
    The minions laughed as they disappeared around the corner. Tanner helped Chris to his feet. Amber, now focusing her considerable glare after their attackers, brushed leaves and twigs from Chris’s backside.
    “We’ll get those guys,” Tanner promised. “Don’t worry.”
    “Want to stick with us,” Amber asked. “Safety in numbers.”
    “Sure, sure,” Bobby said impatiently. “Let’s get some more candy while we’ve still got time.” The egg clotting his hair didn’t concern him at all.
    They combed the block opposite the direction in which Kazense and his minions had gone. Chris plucked treats from his bucket, pausing now and then to wipe the wrappings on his commando pants. Shimmery globs of egg streaked his thighs.
    “Need to wash that off your candy when you get home,” Amber said. “End up getting salmonella food poisoning. Mrs. Freeze told us about it in science.”
    “Say,” Tanner said, stopping in his tracks. “Isn’t that Kazense’s car?”
    “Sure is,” Raber replied, pulling on the passenger side door handle. “Oh, I don’t fuckin’ believe this.” An expression of horrible joy lit his face. The door popped open.
    “Looks like the fucker forgot to change his dome light,” Chris said. “Be a shame if something bad were to happen.”
    “Careful,” Tanner said. “We don’t want to get in trouble.”
    “Fuck that,” Raber said. “Lookit what they did to us.” He fished three small ampoules out of his pants pocket. Chris shined the beam from his flashlight onto Raber’s hand. The ampoules were filled with straw-colored fluid.
    “Stink bombs,” Raber confirmed.
    “Where d’ya get those,” Bobby asked.
    “Joke shop in Chicago. Picked ‘em up when my dad wasn’t lookin’.”
    “Wisht I’da known,” Bobby said. “Woulda had ya get me a couple.”
    “Think we should,” Chris asked, knowing what the answer would be.
    “Oh yeah,” Tanner said. “Isn’t like we’re destroyin’ anything. Dude’s got it comin’.”
    Chris dipped his finger into the gooey fluid in his bucket. He smeared a liberal dose onto the glass ampoule. “Where should I stick it,” he asked.
    “You ladies keep watch,” Tanner said. “See if you can jam it into the spring under the seat.”
    Chris crawled into the car and balanced the tiny tube beneath the passenger seat. The springs were firm, and might not shatter the glass even if someone heavy sat down. Still, it was the best they could do. “Lemme have another one.” The second ampoule was soon in place beneath the passenger side floor mat.
    “Think it’ll work,” Tanner asked.
    “Dunno. Worth a shot.”
    “Aincha afraid you’ll get in trouble with your dad, Osland,” Bobby asked, remembering the man’s stern warning.
    “Nah. My dad saw what those punks did, he’d prolly be helpin’ us. I’ll tell him what we done when I get home, just in case.”
    “Got one more,” Raber offered.
    “Gas pedal,” Tanner suggested with relish.
    “Fuck yeah.” Chris smeared more egg white onto the last glass ampoule. He fastened it in the center of the pedal, certain it would be hidden in the dark. Let Kazense punk himself, the bungwipe!
    “Sure love ta see the look on those fuckers’ faces,” Raber said.
    Tanner shook his head. No dice. “Best be far away from here when them things bust,” he said. “We’ll hear about it at school. You all gotta swear not to tell though. Dudes’d kick our asses they find out who done it.”
    His six friends nodded. Nobody would know except them who had pranked Kazense.
    “Time to head back to the library,” Tanner said. “My dad’ll be pickin’ us up soon.”
    “Hey, Chris,” Amber called after them. “Call me this weekend, ‘kay?”
    “It’s only Monday,” Bobby said. “Why’d she want you call her this weekend.”
    “Shut up, dick,” Raber said.
    All in all, it had been a grand end to their trick or treat tradition.

    The Yellow Submarine Sandwiche Shoppe was as busy on a Monday night as Tina had ever seen. Little trick or treaters and their parents filled the booths, making an evening of their night out on the town. High school students dashed in for a quick sandwich before embarking on a night of mischief and merrymaking. There wouldn’t be a lot of homework completed on this particular Halloween night. When Tina saw the huge dinner crowd, she suspected she’d made a mistake making an appearance with Brianne. Sure enough, when Ted saw her, he made his urgent plea. “Think you could give us a hand, just until the crowd dies down? Derrick’s still a little slow, and Alicia doesn’t have much patience with him.”
    “I dunno, Ted. I’ve got my daughter with me.”
    “She could sit in the back office, maybe watch some tv. We could pay you time and a half. Probably be just an hour or so. No more.”
    Tina relented. The money she made would pay for Brianne’s Halloween, and it would be a nice gesture towards Mr. Blaque to help out in the restaurant. She phoned her parents to let them know where she was, put on an apron, tied back her hair, and pitched in on the sandwich line.
    “I’ll take over here,” she said to the harried Alicia. “Go ahead and take care of the front dining room.”
    “Thank god. I’m about to strangle slowpoke here.”
    “It’s okay, Derrick,” Tina said. “Take your time. People appreciate a good sandwich.”
    “Think I’m getting’ the hang of it,” Derrick replied. “Alicia thought I was puttin’ too much meat on some a the buns. Ran outta the pre-measured stuff at five thirty.”
    “I’m sure you’re doing fine.”
    An hour and a half later, the crowd had thinned. Derrick disappeared into the back storeroom where he supposedly uncrated more bags of potato chips and cheese curls. Ted abandoned the cash register to begin tallying receipts. Alicia caught up with the dining room. Tina thought she could safely clock out.
    “Sure appreciate you’re workin’ tonight, Tina,” Ted said. “Be sure to put a in good word for you with Mr. Blaque.”
    Brianne perched on the manager’s couch, her crown askew, the candy in her basket forgotten. A shrill scream erupted from the television set. Ted was watching a movie while he tallied the evening grosses. Tina watched in horror as a hatchet cleaved the face of the actress on the screen. Brianne stared at the screen as if hypnotized. How much of this movie had Brianne seen? What would she remember of it? Tina could have shaken the store manager for watching such filth with her daughter. But she needed the job and Mom needed the job. She couldn’t afford to be difficult.
    Mom would know how to handle things with Brianne. She might even have a word or two in private with Ted. Maybe Mom could come and pick them up. They didn’t live too far away, but Tina wasn’t sure she wanted to take her daughter out into the dark night. The whole situation had become traumatic.
    The door to the restaurant chimed, but it wasn’t a new customer entering. Tina’s mom must have read her daughter’s mind.
    “Thought I’d drop by and see if you needed a ride,” she said.
    “Thanks, Mom. I need to talk to you about something.”
    “Okay, honey. Let me just poke my head into the office here. Need me to do anything before we head out, Ted? Help with the tally? Quick round of the tables?”
    “Thanks, Ann. Think we got it. Where’s Derrick, anyway?”
    “He’s in back. Unpacking snacks, I think,” Tina said. “I’ll go get him.”
    Derrick was tucked away, sitting by a shelf and reading a comic book.
    “Don’t let Ted catch you messing around back here,” Tina cautioned. “Lose your job for sure. We’re leaving now. Be a good time for you to start cleaning up the bathroom.” Tina took his comic book. “You can pick this up from me at school tomorrow. See ya.”
    “That kid is something else,” Tina’s mom said.

    Mitchell Kazense was in a worse mood than usual. The town cops had been out in full force tonight, parked in the shadows, endlessly patrolling the streets, popping up and the most inopportune times. It wasn’t like Mitchell and his friends intended any real damage. They’d soaped a few car windows, tee-peed a few trees, put some junior high kids in their place. But they’d also been careful not to get egg on aluminum siding or automobile paint. The line between pranks and vandalism, bright red and clearly drawn, made the difference between a stern lecture from Officer Burnside and a trip up to Galesburg in the back seat of a squad car. Anyway, they hadn’t got to pimp as many people as they would have liked.
    It really didn’t make an impression on Mitchell when Fat Bob got into the car without waiting for the door to be unlocked. The faint popping sounds from beneath the seats were all but drowned out by Jarvis’s mindless chatter. Was that a pebble on the gas pedal beneath his foot? Mitchell pressed down on the pedal and started the car. A burst of skunk odor enveloped them.
    “What the fuck, dude,” Jarvis exclaimed.
    “Stink bombs,” Fat Bob shouted. “They’s stink bombs in your car!”
    The car doors flew open, and the three boys leapt into the street, eyes watering.
    “Gotta leave your car here, dude,” Jarvis said. “Can’t drive it home like that.”
    “How’d stink bombs get into my car,” Kazense asked angrily. “One a you dorks drop somethin’ outta your pockets?”
    His two friends shook their heads.
    “Damn! Well I can’t leave my car here overnight. Someone’s liable to do somethin’ worse. Just have ta drive with the windows down. Air it out in my driveway over night.”
    “Sorry, dude. But I’d rather walk home,” Fat Bob said.
    “Think I’ll call my brother from the restaurant,” Jarvis said. “See if he’ll come get me. Hey, aincha gonna wait?”
    But Kazense was already behind the wheel. The tires squealed as he drove off, leaving the minions behind him.

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