Johnny Halloween Read Online Free Page B

they’ll be coming after your copies next.”
    “Yeah. They won’t get them so easily, though. Woodbury may have that sad excuse for a school librarian in his pocket, but he doesn’t have me.”
    Vicky bagged the groceries. “I wish I could have been there. I’ve got three kids in that school. They’ve all read the Oz books, and they haven’t sacrificed the family cat to the powers of darkness. Not yet, anyway.”
    “Who’s taking care of the little darlings tonight?”
    “First they’re going trick-or-treating on their own. That’s until nine. Then they’re going to report to the Johnsons next door.”
    Marge cradled the grocery bag. “Ah, the pleasures of single parenthood. Look, I’ll give the little angels lots of candy if they come my way. What costumes should I look for?”
    Vicky winked. “I’ve got one Tin Woodman, one Cowardly Lion, and one Dorothy.”
    “Oh, you devil you,” Marge said.
     
    ****
     
    “Reverend Woodbury, do you really believe that the flying monkeys and talking apple trees in The Wizard of Oz are agents of Satan?”
    “That kind of question trivializes our point of view. On the whole, this kind of fantasy ruins young minds. It takes our sons and daughters away from the Christian world, the real world. It endangers their innocent souls. Just like this Halloween holiday, just like that Dungeons & Dragons game, films of this kind cajole and tempt young people into accepting Satan.”
    “So, simply put, what you’re saying is that The Wizard of Oz leads to satanic worship?”
    “There you go again, putting words in my mouth. I’m saying that the Devil is strong in this country today, and getting stronger every second. Incidents of ritual abuse have been well documented. Sites of satanic worship are being discovered all the time—in public parks, in public buildings, right here in suburbia. But some people don’t want us to see the reality of the situation. They’d have us believe that incidents of graveyard vandalism are just youthful hi-jinks, not ceremonies that pay tribute to—”
    “We interrupt this interview with a report of a fire at the Florida Street Mall. It appears that the blaze began at Pandora’s Box, a video store that specializes in fantasy and horror films. The business closed early this evening after a demonstration by members of Reverend Woodbury’s Christcorps degenerated into a fistfight between customers and demonstrators, and the fire began shortly after local police—”
    “Dad, turn off that television and help me wash these apples.”
    “Glad to, Mother. Just the same old stuff, anyhow.”
    “I said wash ’em, don’t bruise ’em.”
    “Well, crikey, this water’s cold. Bound to lose my grip on one or two, with my arthritis.”
    “Lord, I hate fires. My favorite yarn shop is two doors down from that video place, and I sure hope it doesn’t burn.”
    “Oh, I don’t know, Mother. Maybe you’ll get to go to a fire sale.”
    “That’s not funny, Dad.”
    “S’pose you’re right. Y’know, this town used to be a pretty nice place to live.”
    “Maybe it will be again.”
    “Yep…Good apples this year. Big. Green…”
     
    ****
     
    “So, Miss Vicky Taylor, I imagine that your children are out doing the Devil’s business tonight.”
    “Look, Alice, I’m just here to total your groceries. Let’s leave it at that.”
    “Not a chance! If you think I’m going to buy my family’s food from one of Lucifer’s harlots, you’ve got another thing coming. I just won’t, that’s all! You can spend the rest of your evening putting these things back on the shelves, and you can tell your boss that I’ll be shopping elsewhere until you’re fired! And one more thing: you keep your little imps away from my door, Miss Vicky Taylor, or I’ll swat them with my Bible and send them straight to hell!”
    The woman stalked off. Vicky stared at the full cart of groceries. Myers would be furious when he heard about the Christcorps’ latest