The Knick Knack Nightmare: Perry & Arvin Adventures, #2

By C.M. Bacon

Perry and Arvin are back in a zany, new adventure!

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Perry's moved away from video games and shiny gewgaws. While he'd become friends with his crush, 'The Dragon' is dating again. Perry's not happy about that, and he's not going to budge.

Arvin's the still the same witty little person with wild, red hair who loves science and girls – one in particular. No doubt, the boy's got mojo.

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When Perry is robbed of his magical gewgaw, the world's knick-knacks also come to life. And they're not happy. Perry and Arvin must fight an onslaught of crazed garden gnomes, dive-bombing crystal birds and fire-breathing dragons, crazy nesting dolls, and armies of figurines marching toward world domination.

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Can the duo solve a giant mystery, defeat a tiny villain, and save the world at the same time? Or are they already too late? 

 

Read The Knick Knack Nightmare today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: CMB Fiction
• Release date: Jun 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9780997578621

C.M. Bacon

C.M. Bacon is a writer of science fiction and fantasy novels, English teacher, latte enthusiast, and occasional artist from Atlanta, Georgia, USA. http://www.cmbacon.com

Book preview

THE KNICK KNACK NIGHTMARE

(Perry & Arvin Adventures, Book 2)

C.M. Bacon

The Knick Knack Nightmare

(Perry & Arvin Adventures, Book 2)

Copyright © 2017 C.M. Bacon

http://www.cmbacon.com

ISBN-13 (eBook): 978-0-9975786-2-1

ISBN-13 (Print): 978-0-9975786-3-8

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. It may not be copied or given away unless the original copy is destroyed/deleted. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. For permissions and inquiries, please write to the author at [e-mail].

First Edition 2017

Mr. Happy Face Gnome illustration by @MichaelBaconArt of The Scribbler’s Nook

http://www.twitter.com/MichaelBaconArt

Thank you, Nico.

What lies behind you

and what lies in front of you,

pales in comparison

to what lies inside of you.

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Mr. Happy Face

ONE

The lock jiggled, steel key and brass cylinder clinking together as he fumbled around, trying to force it.

Psst! I whispered into the room, Arvin’s back. Turn off the lights. Everyone, be quiet.

I’d been waiting for this moment. Waiting to get even. Today was Arvin’s fifteenth, so it had to be special. Unforgettable even. Any moment, he’d step through the door and get what he deserved. He’d never forget. I was sure of it. The door swung open, and Arvin stumbled into the room.

I jumped out from behind a curio cabinet, Surprise, and yanked the little string.

Rainbow streamers and confetti exploded out of the party popper and flew across the room, sticking to Arvin’s clothes, glittering his face. A red metallic star stuck to the end of Arvin’s nose, sparkling in the light. He looked like a reindeer in one of Mom’s favorite cartoons.

Happy birthday, Buddy! I took the milk jug and corner mart receipt out of his hand and passed them to Ms. Pewter’s boyfriend, Tim Patterson. I gave Arvin a small gift box and punched him on the arm. Lucky number fifteen. Already practicing for the Christmas musical? I scratched the tip of my nose and winked at him.

Arvin brushed away the star and shook out his curls. Confetti rained onto the wood floor. He felt the smooth paper, twirled the ribbon around his fingers, and shook box side to side. Thanks, but isn’t seven supposed to be the lucky number?

Fifteen is more than twice as lucky. It’s a wallet by the way. A nice one, too. I couldn’t help myself. All leather. No Velcro. No buttons. I got it at Garden Glen last week.

Stop. Don’t tell me the color. I want something about it to be a surprise. Arvin kicked the door behind him. It slammed shut, rustling the wilted leaves of two large plants stuffed into the fireplace. Arvin laid my gift among others on a glass coffee table and plopped down on the living room sofa.

Fifty party guests clamored and shoved, moving around the room, jostling for a better view. Sarah Peters, a short, chatty girl with a sly smile and cropped black hair, balanced herself on an old stool beside the hearth. The stool wobbled in every direction and she wobbled along with it, round and round until she grabbed hold of the fireplace mantel to steady herself.

Kaila sat next to Arvin. She wore a white sarong with blue birds of paradise flowers across the front and back and green palm fronds down the sides. She had let her long, brown grow out all year. It flowed over her shoulders and rested on top of the octagonal box in her lap. Kaila placed the gift on Arvin’s knees. Happy birthday, Arvie. Kaila kissed his forehead.

Arvin shook the gift and peeled away the smooth paper. He laid the paper to one side and held the bare box for everyone to see. I’ve always wanted a plain, white box like this. How did you know?

You and those jokes. Kaila waved to Emilia. Just open the box. It’s from both of us.

Arvin popped open the lid, Geodes! and rummaged through the box. Thanks Kaila and Emilia.

Emilia smiled. We knew you’d like them.

In the year since returning from our trip across dimensions, Arvin traded his gewgaws for rocks and geodes. No magic coins to turn us into snakes or teleport us into dungeons, he said. Those adventures are for people without a reason to return. They can keep th em.

I couldn’t blame him. Arvin had a tall, tanned reason to stay. Kaila Wren was more than a year older and two feet taller than Arvin, but it didn’t stop him from trying. He carried her swim flippers at the pool, and she rubbed sunscreen over his back. He held her bags at the mall and bought her soft pretzels with his lawn mowing money. Kaila fed him blue raspberry slushies and helped him with algebra homework. They read sappy poetry together and stuck pins in maps of far away places they planned to see after university. When Arvin smiled at Kaila, she smiled back. He winked at her. She winked back. I thought they had pinkeye, but Arvin swore it was love. And they weren’t the only ones infected.

Emilia tapped my shoulder. I turned to see her smiling. She wore a purple sun dress with little white flowers. Emilia tilted her head and brushed her long, brown hair behind her ear. She got her ears pierced in spring. Amethyst and silver studs to match the delicate bracelet around her wrist. Lovely. I smiled. She smiled back. I love your smile. I love the freckles behind your ear. One, two freckles, three, four, seven - one perfect and round.

Perry? Is something wrong?

Now, I thought. It’s time to tell you everything. Time to tell you about Dad’s magic coin, the snake boy and his mother, the giant knights and the kind albinos, the armies and the cloud city of Aurabash. I wanted to tell her at least ten thousand times. It was always ready to fly out of my mouth like everything else, but the secret was too large. The day Arvin and I returned, I wrapped the coin in my old baby blanket and hid it under a pile of gewgaws at the bottom of Dad’s old trunk. It was the hardest thing I had ever done.

I-, I was looking at Ms. Pewter’s knick-knack collection. My eyes shifted to the fireplace mantel. Mom has a few of these, too.

Ms. Pewter’s stockpile of knick-knacks put Mom’s 16-year collection to shame. She had thirty-two miniature thimbles, fifty silver spoons painted with every US state seal, twenty crystal cats, eight wooden dalmatians, forty-two blown glass birds, a symphony of green and red spotted frogs playing tiny yellow banjos, six crystal kangaroos, and seventy-seven mini garden gnomes. And that was just the living room. She had thousands more throughout the house. They perched on the fireplace mantel, filled glass cases, lurked around every corner, guarded Arvin as he slept, held the salt and pepper shakers, stood between the shampoo and conditioner, and stared - noses pinched - as you did your business in the bathroom.

Emilia rubbed her eyes. What on Earth inspired Ms. Pewter to collect so many?

Mom’s knick-knacks were gifts from Dad. She hasn’t collected one since he - you know. Ms. Pewter started her collection after Arvin’s old house burned down and his dad - you know. Lucky for Arvin, she hasn’t dragged him out to buy knick-knacks since meeting Mr. Patterson.

Ms. Pewter said Tim Patterson was a good listener and a keeper. His job as a census taker brought him to every doorstep in Shelbyville, annoying people by knock-nickety knocking at their doors with a stack of surveys in his right hand and a pen in his left. Three weeks ago, Tim had knock-nickety knocked on Ms. Pewter’s door and into her heart. He was stocky and balding, the last of his red curls falling out in patches around his head. He had a button nose and intense, green eyes like Arvin’s father. They looked so alike, I thought they were brothers. He was funny and protective. When we met, Tim asked me a hundred questions and listened to every answer. I understood why Ms. Pewter liked him. Everyone did.

How sweet! Kaila and Arvin. Ms. Pewter and Mr. Patterson. Your mom and Martin. It’s like Valentine’s came early for old people.

Why would anyone beg a demon baby to shoot their crush with an arrow? Seems like a violent start to a relationship if you ask me.

Emilia placed her warm hand on my arm. Because the story makes people happy.

Cupid should stick to fairy tales and leave the real world alone.

You ought to give Martin a chance. For your mom.

He’s tall and gangly like goofy-haired taffy hung from the ceiling. Did I tell you how she met him? At the supermarket. Even named him after the my favorite fabric softener.

I heard. Soft something?

Soft and Gentle. The words turned my stomach. Horrible nickname. I’d rather be itchy. Martin was not soft and gentle. He had a strong jaw. His dark brown eyes locked with mine in staring contests over the mashed potatoes and peas every Monday and Thursday. Though he’d sometimes win a battle, he couldn’t win the war. Neither could I, so I protested in other ways.

Emilia looked around the room. So where is he? I wanted to say hi.

He caught an early flight to Japan. Hunting heads in Tokyo or something stupid.

Well, I think he’s nice. Emilia blew the dust off a little chrome vase on the mantel. And a good fit for your mom. She coughed, swatting dust bunnies away from her face.

If you say so. But I’m not ready for anyone to be a ‘good fit’ for Mom. Not yet.

Arvin unwrapped his final present - a black leather jacket with silver zippers from Mr. Patterson.

I took it off the cow myself. Mr. Patterson made a silly face-peeling motion with his hands.

Kaila rolled her eyes and Arvin laughed. It was something Arvin might say.

Debbie, Ms. Pewter hollered into the kitchen, we’re ready for the cake now. She glared at us. She worked very hard on it so be nice.

Coming, Patty. Mom nudged the kitchen door open with her hip, entering with a cake as big as a beehive.

Fifteen red candy stars sparkled over gooey blobs of red icing. Fifteen red candles burned on one side, and fifteen lit sparklers shot flames out the other. Blinding sparks flew into the air, and thick plumes of gray smoke rolled along the ceiling. The smoke alarm beeped. Was I supposed to eat the cake or call the fire department first? Before I could decide, Ms. Pewter ripped the guts out of the detector, shutting it off.

Mom placed the lopsided dessert in the center of it. It’s a red velvet volcano cake.

It’s your head. Kaila ran her fingers through Arvin’s curls. But less hairy.

Arvin laughed. Thanks, Ms. Dobbs.

Mom stood holding a long plastic cake knife, ready to slay the red monstrosity. Make a wish.

Arvin closed his eyes. His lips moved in the shape of the wish as it passed through his thoughts. He took a deep breath and blew.

CRACK

Oops. Sorry, Ms. Pewter, Sarah said. It was an accident. Honest.

I whipped around to see the fireplace hearth as everyone let out a collective sigh.

Oh, no. Not my crystal kangaroo. Ms. Pewter picked pieces of shattered marsupial off the marble hearth. It’s okay, Sarah. But please get off that old stool before you break your neck. Tim, can you get the small broom and dustpan? They’re in the closet. Tim? Ms. Pewter stood on her toes and peered over our heads. Tim, where’d you go?

Up here, Patty. Tim hurried down the stairs, carrying a black leather briefcase with red stitching. He had changed out of his pink polo and plaid shorts and into a blue suit and red tie. The office called. Last minute conference in St. Paul.

But Tim, today’s Arvin’s birthday. And it’s Saturday morning.

Sorry. The census waits for no one. Tim kissed Ms. Pewter on the cheek and was out the door. Sunlight bounced off his sweaty head as he hurried past the window.

He should get a car, I said. He must hate walking and taking Metro Transit everywhere.

Who wants cake? Mom placed the first piece of red cake onto a white paper plate and smeared two gooey blobs of frosting onto the plate’s edge.

Right here! Arvin accepted the first test of Mom’s latest kitchen creation.

That’s the spirit. Mom plopped a second piece of cake on the plate.

Arvin took a generous bite. It’s, Arvin gulped and