The Lawnmonsters

By Shannon Cooley

Bryce has one summer to prove he's responsible.

Then he accidentally brings the lawnmower to life.

 

He tries to hide his mistake by starting a mowing business, but the hungry lawnmower hasn't learned "stay" yet, his employees are demanding benefits, and if Dad finds out he's been lying all summer, he might never trust Bryce again.

 

Bryce's new goal: get through the summer with his relationships – and his mom's rhododendron bushes – intact… and maybe prove he's not just a little kid anymore while he's at it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: One Thousand Fables
• Release date: Jan 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224313389

Book preview

The Lawnmonsters

Shannon Cooley

One Thousand Fables

Copyright © 2024 by Shannon Cooley

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Cover art by Ricky Gunawan

Contents

Dedication

1.Dead

2.Mad Martin the Miracle Man

3.New Lease on Life

4.Demon Lawnmower

5.No Returns on Miracles

6.The End (of my summer plans)

7.Too Much of a Good Thing

8.Picky Eater

9.Money Talks

10.Reality Bites

11.Taking it Like a Man

12.Naming Your Fears

13.Growing Pains

14.Worth the Price

15.Mischief

16.Doc Martin

17.Mutiny

18.The Farm

19.I Am The Generous Elite

20.How Quickly Things Change

21.Making My Move

22.Sweet Summer Bliss

23.Growing Up

24.Crunch Time

25.On My Side

26.Heartsick

27.Believing

28.Old Memories, New Beginnings

Acknowledgments

About The Author

For my brothers. Here's to all our adventures Mom never found out about.

Dead

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I let go of the lawnmower handle, letting it crash back to the ground, and flopped next to it in the grass.

I was dead. Not buried-in-the-ground dead, but definitely grounded-all-summer dead.

I was as dead as this stupid lawnmower.

It wouldn't have been such a big deal if I weren't already walking the fine line of my dad's patience. Mowing the lawn without being asked was supposed to help prove to him I was getting more responsible.

I needed the help, too; Dad had hardly talked to me since I’d tried to change the flat tire on the car. Turns out, when the YouTube video tells you it's okay to jump on the handle of the lug wrench to loosen a tight bolt, you have to pay attention to that whole righty-tighty, lefty-loosey thing. If you jump hard enough turning it the wrong direction, the bolts still eventually loosen—I sheared three of them right off before I realized anything was wrong.

That would have been bad enough, but it came right after Dad caught Kaden and I building a zip line from the tree house to the compost pile.

I looked at my watch. Four o'clock. With Dad’s new job, he hardly ever made it home before six-thirty these days. That meant I had two and a half hours to figure out what to do with the mower.

Time to call in backup.

I ran next door. Kaden was probably playing video games. His mom knew how to keep a kid out of trouble—if my parents let me have video games, none of this would have happened.

It was his mom’s day off, so she let me in, and I ran into the living room. Kaden!

He didn't move. Not even a grunt. To be fair, his robot on the screen was in the process of smashing about a thousand tiny aliens with a golden hammer. Every time the hammer hit the ground, the little aliens would bounce into the air and float around like a little swarm of bees.

I pulled my eyes away from the screen before I could get sucked in. I would have to do something drastic, something he would only forgive because I was his best friend and it was an emergency.

I stepped in front of the TV and waved my arms to cover more of the screen.

Hey! he yelled, dodging sideways to try to look under my arm, Bryce, move! I'm gonna die!

"So am I if you don't help me out right now."

The speakers blared warning beeps as the robot started taking damage. I only felt a little guilty. Mom said video games would rot our brains anyway; I was probably doing him a favor.

The dying screech of the robot was nearly enough to make me lose my resolve, but I stayed with my back to the television, refusing to watch the aliens swarm over his blue frame. If I turned my back on Kaden, he'd definitely get me in a headlock.

Kaden crossed his arms and glared at me. You better really be dying.

I stared back at him with all the solemnity the situation deserved. I broke my dad's mower.

Kaden's eyes widened, and then he busted up laughing. You really are dead! Oh man. I get your cards when you go, right? You promised.

I punched him in the arm. Come help me figure out how to fix it before Dad gets home!

We tromped back to my front yard, where the red and black mower lay coated in its green haze of grass dust.

So what happened? Kaden crouched and poked the mower with a finger, like you might to check if a piece of roadkill was still alive.

I don't know! I was mowing like normal, and then it suddenly clunked, started whining worse than my cousin Joey, and then sputtered into nothing.

Out of gas?

Checked.

Oil?

Checked.

Something stuck in the blades?

I checked, but you're welcome to stick your head under there if you'd like.

Kaden stood and shoved his hands into his back pockets. Could you just stick it back in the shed and pretend you forgot to mow? Then say it was already broken next time you try?

I pointed to the two perfectly mowed rows on my right.

He shrugged. Yeah, you're dead. He turned to walk off.

Hey, where are you going?

I don't want to look like I was involved.

"Come on, man!"

He sighed and turned back. We stood in silence, staring at the mower like it was a corpse at a funeral viewing.

It might as well have been the corpse of my hopes and plans. I was already the first of my cousins to turn thirteen and not get something to ride at Grandpa's farm. Everyone got something—a horse, a dirt bike, a four-wheeler—and it was the true mark of separation between the kids and almost-adults. Kids could ride stuff, but only if they had an adult along with them. Grandma said it helped prevent accidents. Becoming a teenager, though, was the magical switch that meant you were responsible enough to go for rides with just the cousins.

Freedom.

Except my dad didn't agree. Where Mom had grown up on a farm with three brothers and four sisters, Dad had grown up an only child in the suburbs. He didn't understand the magic of the thirteenth birthday.

And then there was that little incident with the snowmobile back in February. The one where I snuck out to prove to Dad I was a good enough rider to deserve a four-wheeler, and then I crashed the snowmobile into a tree and almost got hypothermia before anyone found me? That… kinda ruined any chance of me getting a four-wheeler.

After a lot of discussions—not arguments, they said—Mom had convinced Dad to give me the summer to at least earn the cross-country high adventure trip my uncle Jerry had been planning. I’d been counting on that trip for almost a year now, and there was no way I was going to miss it!

But Dad had laid down the law. I had to prove I was responsible, which meant doing lots of chores and stuff without complaining, and not breaking anything, and not spending the entire summer on Kaden's couch playing video games. It was a sacrifice, but one I'd been prepared to make.

I also had to earn money for the trip myself. Which, since we were driving all the way to the Grand Canyon and doing a mountain biking tour and going backpacking and white-water rafting, was going to cost almost two thousand dollars. But Dad said if I couldn’t prove I could be responsible, he didn’t want me anywhere near the Grand Canyon, and the only way he could think of to prove it was for me to work hard enough to earn at least half the money.

And now the mower was dead. And I’d probably have to pay for it.

Kaden's eyes lit up. What about that guy? The one with the signs?

I stared at him. He stared back. I shrugged. I got nothing.

He rolled his eyes. You know, there's a sign at the corner right as you come into the neighborhood, and one over on Birch Street…

Wait, the miracle guy?

Yeah!

It's got to be a scam.

Dude, what do you have to lose?

Um, all my savings? Which only amounted to about twenty dollars, since I’d already had to use almost everything I’d earned on fixing those bolts I’d sheared off while changing the tire.

It's that or give me all your cards because you're dead.

He had a point. I lifted my hands in surrender. Okay, but if he ends up being some kind of serial killer, I will push you at him and run.

Kaden grinned. Only if I don't beat you to it.

I jogged inside and grabbed the old flip phone my parents let me have for emergencies. I usually only carried it during the school year, so I hadn't been watching the battery, but it had a tiny bit of charge left. Hopefully enough for one call.

When I got back out, Kaden was checking an imaginary watch. I thought you were in a hurry?

I ignored him and set off at an easy jog for Birch Street.

Kaden sprinted past me, laughing hysterically. He would. I dashed after him, but he had too much of a headstart.

We pulled up, panting, in front of the sign.

That's five, Kaden whooped.

Only because you cheated! I turned to look at the sign. It was one of those stuck-in-the-ground-with-two-wires kind that usually say things like Vote Rosmuttin! This one had a white background and big blue letters that read,

MARTIN'S MIRACLE REPAIRS

If it's too broke to fix, you've never tried us.

So simple, but who knew what this Martin guy was like? For all I knew, Miracle Repairs was code for something totally illegal. I looked at Kaden. Are we really doing this?

He tapped his imaginary watch. Dad would be coming back in two hours. Broken lawnmower, broken summer, broken dreams of rafting in the Grand Canyon.

I needed a miracle. I gulped and pulled out my phone.

Mad Martin the Miracle Man

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The phone call was short. The guy sounded sane enough, and even lived near our neighborhood. Maybe this would work.

We lost another twenty-five minutes getting home and taking turns pushing the stupid mower all the way over to Cherry street. It ought to have been called Cherry PIT street, because this place was seriously the pits. The houses were all either little brick boxes with yards full of thistles or trailers with splintery front porches. One house had a swing set with just hanging chains and no seats; another had a Beware of DO sign that had probably once said dog but was missing a chunk. Maybe it had been bitten off by the dog in question. That would be a dog to beware of.

We stopped in front of 2920 Cherry Street. It was one of the brick boxes, and it had three-foot heaps of metal dotting the yard—things like hubcaps and shopping cart wheels and a chunk of a car fender—which did not inspire confidence in Miracle Martin's ability to fix things. But at least this yard was mowed.

Kaden shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the wheel of my mower. He looked around like he thought the chains of that old swing set were going to come after him. Let's hurry and get this over with. My mom’s actually home today, and she’ll be ticked if she catches me out of the neighborhood without permission.

Wuss.

The challenge didn't even faze him, which meant he was serious. And meant I would have to knock on the door.

I shoved the mower up the driveway and left it behind to hop along the stepping-stone path to the door. I sized up the dusty glass not-really-a-screen-door, rapped the classic BAP-bap-bap-BAP-bap, bap-BAP and took three steps back. Just to be polite.

The wooden door behind the glass swung open with an ominous creak. Through the layers of grime on the outer door, I could just make out a shiny forehead and the glint of light on glasses.

You know that moment when you're camping, and you're sitting in front of the fire, and you hear something behind you, but when you look at the woods, you're totally blind because the fire was too bright? For an instant, you're positive it's a bear, or at least a raccoon with rabies. But then your eyes adjust, and of course it was nothing, or some far away deer, and