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

full of scary, fun things. Ashley made a sign that said: “ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.” We hung it up over the door flap. Then we turned on the black light inside the skeleton dude. It made the sheets glow like those iridescent fish that live at the bottom of the ocean. When we dimmed the living-room lights, our little haunted house looked like it was a floating alien spaceship. Or at least, that’s what it looked like to us.
    â€œMcKelty is going to be scared out of his mind,” I said.
    â€œThat’s if everything works right,” Frankie said. “Don’t forget, Zip, it’s never been tested.”
    â€œWe should have some kids test it out before McKelty gets here,” Ashley said.
    â€œThere’s not much time for that now,” I said. “Who lives close?”
    â€œHeather Payne lives on 78th Street and West End Avenue,” Frankie said.
    Ashley and I both shot him a look that said “Since When Are You Hanging Out with Heather Payne, the Girl Who Cries if She Doesn’t Get an A-Plus on Every Extra-Credit Project She Does?” (Which, by the way, is all of them.)
    Frankie could read our minds, because he added quickly, “Hey, don’t even go there, guys. We did a science project together. That’s all. Remember, we created an earthworm farm?”
    â€œRight. I remember now.” I snickered. “The Biggle Wiggle Worm Wigwam.”
    Ashley and I both cracked up. Frankie wasn’t so amused.
    â€œListen, man, the name was her idea,” he said. “I wanted to call it something cool like the Worm Crib. But she flat out refused.”
    â€œWell, since you and Heather are such close personal Biggle Wiggle Worm Wigwam buddies, why don’t you call her and tell her to come here as soon as possible?” I suggested.
    â€œDon’t say I never did anything for you, Zip,” Frankie said, getting up and heading toward the kitchen.
    â€œAnd Luke Whitman lives around the corner on Amsterdam Avenue!” I shouted out. “While you’re at it, call him, too.”
    â€œEeww, he’s so gross,” Ashley moaned. “The other day, I saw him take a used piece of American cheese out of the trash, smell it, and then eat it.”
    Frankie disappeared into the kitchen to use the phone.
    â€œDo you think two kids are enough to test everything out?” I asked Ashley.
    â€œIt better be,” she said. “It’s what we have.”
    At exactly six-fifty-three, the front door flew open. I was hoping it was Heather or Luke, but no, it was just my mom.
    â€œI didn’t miss any of the trick-or-treaters yet, did I?” she said, flinging off her jacket with the big, green pickle embroidered on the back. She had those jackets made last year as a holiday present for all the people who work at the Crunchy Pickle. “I made a special batch of prune taffy to give out tonight.”
    â€œWow, Mrs. Z.,” Frankie said. “Don’t let that out or every kid on the Upper West Side will be lined up around the block.”
    â€œDo you really think so?” my mom asked.
    â€œPrune taffy. The name alone has my mouth watering,” Ashley said.
    â€œI knew it’d be a crowd-pleaser,” my mom said. She just doesn’t get it that not everyone is as thrilled with prunes as she is. “And I wrapped each one individually in cellophane with a little orange-and-black ribbon. Don’t they look sweet?”
    I was waiting for her to notice the living room. It took her a minute, I guess because her head was still in her prune-taffy ribbons, but when she finally looked around, her eyes almost fell out of her head.
    â€œHank, where did you put our living room?”
    â€œIt doesn’t exist any longer, Mom. You have entered the chamber of horrors.”
    â€œThat’s my bedspread,” she said, pointing to the wall we had made for the haunted house.
    â€œYour bedspread had the honor of being