My Dog's a Scaredy-Cat by Henry Winkler Read Free Book Online Page A

intestines,” Frankie added.
    Their imaginations were both in full gear now, I could tell.
    We got four bottles of ketchup, because we knew we’d need extra to make mummy blood.
    Then we got batteries for the tape recorder. We were going to record Cheerio making scary sounds, and I certainly didn’t want to take a chance on the tape recorder stopping right in the middle of a howl.
    On the way out, we were lucky enough to find the last bag of rubber spiders. Ashley thought they were too ugly, but I insisted we get them.
    â€œAsh, we’ll tie some of my mom’s thread around them,” I said, “and we’ll use a fishing pole to lower them into McKelty’s hair. Wait. I don’t have a fishing pole.”
    â€œMy dad does,” Ashley said. “We’ll borrow it.”
    â€œMcKelty will think he’s being attacked by man-eating tarantulas,” Frankie said with a laugh.
    â€œI can’t wait to see his face,” I said. “We have to remember to blindfold him before he enters the chamber. Everything is twenty times scarier when you can’t see.”
    â€œBoo!” somebody said from behind us.
    All three of us flew three feet in the air. We were concentrating so hard on getting our supplies that we hadn’t heard anyone behind us. When we turned around, we saw that it was Mrs. Fink, filling her cart with bags of fun-size candy bars. She was wearing her false teeth, which she doesn’t do all the time. But I guess when you have a big date, you want all your teeth in place and reporting for duty.
    â€œHi, darlings,” Mrs. Fink said. “Listen, I won’t be home tonight when you go trick-or-treating, because I have a date with a very special someone.”
    My stomach flipped. I wasn’t sure Papa Pete knew what he was getting himself in for.
    â€œI’ve baked your grandfather a cherry strudel and an apple crumble,” she whispered to me. “With an extra poppy-seed Danish thrown in for the holiday.”
    Obviously, when older people get crushes, there is a lot of baking involved.
    â€œSo, Hank, darling,” Mrs. Fink went on. “I’ll leave a big bowl of candy bars outside my door. Just help yourself, and make sure the other children do, too.”
    â€œThanks, Mrs. Fink,” I said, thinking that now Frankie could get some of his Halloween candy. “And good luck in the costume contest. I bet you guys are going to win first prize.”
    I wondered if she knew she was going to be the hind end of an elephant.
    â€œI’m just looking forward to spending the evening being close to your grandfather.”
    Boy, they were going to be close, all right. If she only knew how close.
    â€œCome on, Zip,” Frankie said, pulling on my sleeve. “We don’t have much time.”
    â€œRight. Bye, Mrs. Fink.”
    She waved and continued to load her cart with candy. What a nice lady, that Mrs. Fink.
    At the checkout counter, the bill came to seventeen dollars and ninety-two cents. I pulled out a crisp twenty-dollar bill from my pocket. It was the one Papa Pete had given me the last time we went to a Mets game. I had been planning to use it to buy a new Mets hat. But if that twenty-dollar bill could help me get even with McKelty for being such a mean, big-mouthed jerk, I’d sacrifice a Mets hat any day. Sure, my old one had some pretty major sweat stains on it. But I ask you, who cares about a few sweat stains when crushing McKelty was so close at hand?

CHAPTER 12

    TIME WASN’T EXACTLY on our side. By the time we got back to my apartment, it was seventeen minutes after five, according to Frankie’s digital watch, which he’d gotten for his birthday in August. We were going to have to work fast. That was okay with me, though, because my mind was bursting with scary ideas for the haunted house.
    â€œThe first thing we have to do,” I said, when we had plopped all our supplies down in the entry