The Eet Defeat

By Jason Haerich

It is so exciting to move to a new town and begin class at a new school. If it wasn’t for that pesky fifth grade teacher trying to dispatch the students, this town would be really awesome!

There are so many things a kid has to do when moving to a new house and starting a new school. You have to meet new friends, get all your school supplies… and avoid the teacher who wants to put you in an iron maiden.

Only the merest façade of normalcy cloaks the town of Smithville. Underneath lies a cauldron of grisly characters and grim possibilities, especially for the children of the Mark family who just moved to town. Talon, the clever 5th grader, is deeply embroiled in a plot to uncover the secret of the nefarious fifth grade teacher bent on his destruction.

Join Talon and his new batch of eclectic and oddly familiar friends as they discover the mystery of the infamous Mr. Eet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781312937161

Book preview

The Eet Defeat

The Eet Defeat

Written and Illustrated by Jason Haerich

2015

Copyright © 2015 by Jason Haerich

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 or scholarly journal.

So there…

Illustrations by Jason Haerich

First Printing: 2015

ISBN: 978-1-312-93716-1

Jason Haerich

Smithville, MO 64089

www.eetdefeat.com

Dedication

To my kids, Talon and Hannah.  Bless you both for your patience in dealing with an unconventional dad.

Chapter 1: Welcome to Smithville

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Dad, here’s another one.

What’s it say, Talon?

"It says, Large Lake Creature Threatens Fisherman." 

Yeah, probably an overweight bass.

Talon rolled his eyes at the skeptical comment and cleared out the box he was working on.  He shifted to another dusty container and more old papers spilled out.  Why did they save old newspapers?

Beats me.

Man, they sure left a lot of crap behind.

Hey now, watch your language, Talon’s dad warned.  "But yes, they did leave a lot of stuff behind.  They left the house in a hurry and probably didn’t have a chance to clear everything out before we moved in."

Some of these papers are way old, but some are from last year.  Talon said.  The newspapers from our old town never had stories like these.

The Smithville Herald didn’t change much over the years but the occasionally odd headline made clearing the basement of the new house a much better task than repainting or mowing the lawn.  Talon dove in to find more treasure.  He hit pay dirt on the first paper in the new box. 

"Wow!  Young Hiker Reports Giraffe on Nature Trail."

Giraffe, huh?  You got that last box?

Yep.

Good.  As soon as you’re done with that, go upstairs and see if your mom needs anything, Dad said.  He turned, his hip brushing a tall stack of boxes as he headed towards the door.  The boxes tilted, gave serious thought to toppling, then decided against it and remained upright while Talon’s dad hopped up the wooden stairs.

Talon nodded absently at his dad’s instruction and read through some of the more boring headlines.  Lake Activity Increases with Warm Summer Sun.  Traffic Violations Up as Visitors Hurry to Reach Smithville Lake.  Nothing cool left.  Talon finished the last box and followed his dad’s path upstairs.

Dingy brown hair stuck up at odd angles on Talon’s head, sprouting from more than one aggressive cowlick.  Slightly taller than the average fifth grader, his body struggled at times to catch up with the long legs that brought him to the kitchen.  He was just in time to rescue his dog Asia from a poorly aimed kick.

Talon, take that dog outside, Talon’s mom said as she wiped the sweat from her forehead.  I’m so tired of tripping on her.  Make sure she doesn’t dig anymore holes in the backyard, either.

Sure, Mom.

You go play too, your sister is already outside.  I’m just about done here.  Hopefully then we can finally relax a bit.  She grabbed the dirty rag from the counter to continue her task of wiping wineglasses before placing them in the cupboard.

She really hates moving.  Talon ran out the backdoor and was hit by the cloying, green miasma of recently mowed grass.  Talon easily found the deep depression in the turf he accidentally fell into a few days before.

You didn’t dig this, did you Asia?  Asia was too busy rolling on a dead snake to answer.  Talon knew Asia could have dug them if she wanted to.  Her dad was one of the best diggers in the world and dug his very best hole under the fence to get to Asia’s mom, but these holes didn’t come from a dog.  They were too perfect, and too big.  Plus, they weren’t dug.  No dirt surrounded the holes and the grass was squashed in the bottom.  Something pressed these into the yard.  After Talon’s fall into the largest of the holes a few days earlier, he climbed to the balcony of the house to confirm his guess about what they were.  Footprints.  He saw several more leading off to the small pond behind their house and even followed them for a while, picking up the candy bar wrappers strewn alongside each one.  He told himself that he would have words with this large-footed fellow about littering if he ever met him.

Voices from the front yard floated to Talon ears.  He called the dog and ran around the house.  Children lined the edges of the cul-de-sac and played catch, rode their bikes, played tag or otherwise filled their time with summer stuff.  The pleasant weekend afternoon brought the kids from the neighborhood out in force.  Their play was infused with a desperate fury; freedom was short-lived with school starting in less than a week.  Each house on the street had a kid or two living in it except for one.  Talon’s next door neighbor might have had kids once, but she was so old now it would have been hundreds of years ago.

A boy stopped his bike a couple of inches away from Talon’s foot with an impressive screech. Hey Talon, did you hear about the kid who saw the kangaroos today?

No, I just came out, Talon said.

They were on a picnic at the lake.  He swears he saw kangaroos eating lunch at one of the tables, it’ll probably be in the paper the kid said.

Way cool!  Did he touch it?

Nah, he told his mom about them though.  She put him in the car with the air conditioner on.  Said the heat was getting to him.  The conversation stopped; someone was yelling for the boy from a house down the street.

Dang, I gotta go.  I need to get my school stuff. The kid turned his bike and pedaled away.

Talon’s supplies were already crammed in a new backpack; his dad got them earlier.  Dad was between jobs (as he put it) and did a lot of the household chores, like shopping for the kids.  Mom got some of the stuff for him from her office downtown and said she would replace anything he ran out of during one of her regular trips to the main office out of state.  She traveled a lot, and still would even with the permanence of living in a new house, but the family as a whole was happy to stay in one place now.  No more would the family have to pick up to follow her around the country as her jobs took her from place to place.

The street quieted as several of the noisy occupants were called in to dinner.  Talon had some time to himself.  His dinner would be ready when the pizza delivery guy showed up.  He took the opportunity to continue his walk around the neighborhood.  An earlier visit to Smithville while they were looking for a house to buy had given him the chance to spend some time at a little beach on Smithville Lake, but this was his first chance to wander like he usually did when deciding whether or not he liked a new neighborhood.  They didn’t have much time to settle in before school started so finishing the move had been the first priority.

Smithville was definitely different.  There were lots of familiar things like any small town; car dealers, supermarkets, gas stations, but nowhere Talon had been before had things like giant footprints, or kangaroos at a nearby lake.  If the newspaper articles were any indication, Talon would enjoy his time here immensely and he could only hope his new school would live up to the odd standards he was fast developing.

Chapter 2: Ms. Chief

Local Smith Tribe Had Larger Population Than Historians Originally Thought

SMITHVILLE – Local archeologist duo, Cleo and Tony Sphinx, have released findings that suggest the population of Smithville during the habitation of original tribal settlers, the Smiths, was decidedly larger than originally thought.  I told you so, said the only living descendant of the Smiths, Ms. Chief…

She’s one of the strangest people I ever met, Talon thought as he looked at the house next door to his.  He asked a couple of kids on the block about the old lady who lived there and found that nobody really knew much about her except that her daddy was the last great Chief of an old Indian tribe called the Smiths.  She was so old, even she didn’t remember her true name so everyone in the neighborhood just called her Ms. Chief; and she loved to talk.

Talon scrubbed at the scab that maintained permanent residence under his nose during hay fever season and thought about a conversation he had with another old person he knew, a long time ago.

You want to know why us old folk talk so much? Grandpa asked.

Sure Grandpa, Talon said.

See, when a person grows really old, something odd happens in their wrinkled little heads.  They gathered so much information over the years; like the shopping list for Thanksgiving of ‘36, and the how to clear the carburetor in a 1922 Studebaker – that some of the old information leaks out their ears.  That’s actually one of the reasons why old folks have such big ears.

That’s pretty gross, Grandpa, Talon said and looked at his grandpa’s big ears to check for leakiness.

Now, most old folks will prevent that information from being lost forever by passing it along to new, fresh heads without any cumbersome information already filling it.  Some of the best minds for this work happens to be fifth grade children.

Grandpa, I don’t want any leaky information filling my head.

Quiet, just listen, Grandpa continued.  The information in a fifth grade kid’s head doesn’t take up much space.  So your head is like an empty warehouse, just waiting to be filled with stuff.

Talon could only imagine how excited Ms. Chief was to have one of these empty warehouses move in next door.  Talon’s thoughts were interrupted by his dad emerging from the slamming screen door.

Talon’s dad scanned the neighborhood.  His eyes rested upon the house Talon was staring at and his mouth pinched.  Um, Talon, it looks like Ms. Chief could use some help picking weeds out of her front lawn.

If I see anyone who wants to help, I’ll let them know, Dad.

His dad pretended he didn’t hear the comment.  I bet she would really appreciate someone helping her get rid of them.

Don’t feel like listening to a story, huh Dad? Talon asked.

That’s enough, Talon.  Go help her. She’s sitting on her front porch, he sighed Like always.

Talon knew his dad just wanted to take a morning stroll without being stopped mid-stride to listen to one of Ms. Chief’s fanciful stories as he called them.  The weed thing was just an excuse.  As a matter of fact, Talon had overheard quite clearly one evening that his dad actually liked Ms. Chief’s grass looking jungle-like because it made his own haphazard lawn care look advanced by comparison.

Talon really didn’t mind going over to Ms. Chief’s house.  He actually visited her quite a bit since he moved in.  He knew she wouldn’t want him to pick any of the lovely wildflowers in her grass and despite the fact he may have to politely nibble on one of her awful homemade cookies, he would probably get an exciting story out of her.  Talon waved to his dad and ran across the lawn to her house.

Well, if it isn’t little Turtle from next door, Ms. Chief said once Talon got close enough for her to notice him.  I hope you’re hungry, I just got done baking some of those cookies you love so much.

Well, Talon said, I just had breakfast and I’m not really hungry.  Dad told me to come over and help you pick the weeds out your lawn.

Ah, thbpttt, Ms Chief spitted noisily. He’s just jealous of my flowers, and there is no need to be polite, you run on into the house and bring me my pipe.  I have the feeling there is a story in me itching to come on out and see daylight after many a year.  Grab yourself a cookie too.

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Conspicuously avoiding the crusty cookie tray, Talon ran to Ms. Chief’s end table and picked up her beautiful peace pipe.  He remembered to grab her satchel of homegrown tobacco and her Zippo with Hot Mama etched on it before running back outside.  He placed her smoking implements on her end table