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Autumn was in the air as were cooler
temperatures, colorful leaves and huge pumpkins growing on vines in the
garden. Duncan, the mouse, loved to be outside during autumn, as he loved
how beautiful everything was. He scurried over to the corn stalks and ran
in and out of them. They were beginning to die now, turning light brown
and withering. Any corncobs left on the stalk were shriveling up and
turning hard. He ran through the pile of leaves that Mrs. Dunlop had just
finished raking. He hit them with his tail and they flew through the air,
fluttering down like feathers. Duncan loved the smell of autumn leaves.
They felt soft too.
The pumpkins were huge and bright
orange. They lay on the ground, big and round, attached to long, snakelike
vines, green and thick. The skin was smooth and soft and the smell of the
pumpkins reminded Duncan of hot pie with cinnamon. One of the pumpkins had
been carved. Lying next to it on the ground were white seeds, wrapped in
stringy, slimy, sticky pumpkin goo. Duncan tiptoed around the goo and
crawled through the mouth and sharp teeth into the hollowed pumpkin. It
was big and roomy. Duncan thought he might spend the night in there. He
lay down on the tender flesh and looked out at the garden. Kennedy, the
cat, was running about, chasing dandelion helicopters. Duncan giggled, "Hee
hee. Look at silly, Kennedy."
Kennedy ran right into the pumpkin
patch. He stopped at the scraped out goo and took a lick. "Meow. That’s
horrible," he scowled.
Duncan was feeling mischievous. He
felt like playing a trick on the cat. Hiding in the pumpkin, he began to
make sounds like a ghost. "BOO! BOO! BOOOOOOO!" he went.
Kennedy stopped and looked around.
"What was that?" he said.
Duncan started giggling softly. He
did it again. "BOO! BOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Kennedy felt the hairs on the back
of his neck stand straight up. "A ghost? There’s a ghost in the pumpkin
patch?"
Duncan spoke again, "I’m the ghost
of the pumpkin patch. I like to eat cats for supper. I’ll get you," he
said loudly.
Kennedy was terrified. "Don’t eat
me, Mr. Ghost. Please, don’t eat me. I don’t taste good at all. Duncan,
the mouse, he tastes much better."
Duncan giggled again and said, "I
don’t like mice. I like to eat cats. BOOOOOOOOO!"
Kennedy didn’t stay around for one
more second. He ran out of the garden and into the house. Duncan laughed
and laughed. "Scaredy cat," he chuckled. He lay down at the back of the
pumpkin and fell asleep.
Mrs. Dunlop watched Kennedy run in
the house. He headed straight for the carpet in front of the fire.
"Feeling tired, are you?" she asked him, bending down to pet his white
fur.
"Meow," he went, shaking.
"I’m going outside to bring in the
pumpkin I carved. I’ll be back in a few minutes and then I’ll fix you some
warm milk," she said and went outside. She picked up the carved pumpkin
and carried it into the kitchen. Duncan was still sleeping inside of it.
"Kennedy, come and have some milk," she called. Kennedy got up and walked
into the kitchen. He spotted the pumpkin sitting on the table. He lapped
the milk as quickly as he could and ran back into the living room.
"What’s gotten into that cat?" Mrs.
Dunlop wondered.
Just then Duncan woke up. He stuck
his head out of the pumpkin’s carved nose and saw that he was in the
house. He could see Kennedy lying in front of the fire. As soon as Mrs.
Dunlop went out of the kitchen, Duncan shouted, "BOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Kennedy sat up and looked around. "I
must have been dreaming," he said and lay back down.
"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Duncan went
again. "It’s me, the ghost. I’ve come to get you," he giggled.
Kennedy jumped up. "The ghost is in
the house. It must be that pumpkin. It’s haunted. Yikes!" he gulped.
Duncan started pushing the pumpkin
and it began to rock back and forth. "BOOOOOO! BOOOOOO! I’m going to eat
you."
Kennedy started to shiver with fear,
"Help!" He ran as fast as he could through the house and out the back door
and Duncan didn’t see him the rest of the day.
As for Duncan, he stayed in the
kitchen and nibbled on bits of cheese and corn on the cob and enjoyed not
having to worry about Kennedy eating him. |
