Uncle John's the Enchanted Toilet Bathroom Reader for Kids Only! by Bathroom Readers' Institute

Author:Bathroom Readers' Institute [Bathroom Readers]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781607106975
Publisher: Portable Press

THE MILKMAID’S HALLOWEEN

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An Uncle John’s Totally Twisted Tale

THE MILKMAID LOOKED AROUND at the rundown farm where she lived. “I’m tired of these stupid chores,” she said. “Milk the cows, feed the chickens, hoe the beans! Give me a break!”

She was ready to leave it all behind. But she was just a kid. How would she ever get enough money to flee the farm?

As she walked from the barn toward her house, she passed the pumpkin field. The fat orange pumpkins reminded her: Halloween was tomorrow! She could go trick-or-treating and collect as much candy as her milk pail would hold. Then she’d sell the candy to the other kids on the school bus.

“I’m a genius!” She grinned.

The next morning, she took the biggest milk pail she could find and headed up the road. As she crossed a bridge over the river, she could see the farm in the distance, spreading out over the valley. “I’ll soon be leaving you for good!” she said.

She collected candy bars and lollipops at all of the houses on her road. Then she walked into town and knocked on every door. Soon all kinds of treats clanged merrily in her milk pail. “When I sell this candy, I’ll be rich,” she said. “I’ll buy a train ticket and head for Hollywood.”

All evening she collected candy. As the pail filled up, she got even more excited. “This haul will bring in so much money, I can buy new clothes, too!”

Her dreams kept growing. She’d dye her hair bright orange and audition for Milking with the Stars. Once she got on TV, she’d be rich beyond her wildest dreams. All thanks to a pail full of Halloween candy.

The sky grew dark as she headed back out of town. Along the way, she spotted a caravan—not the gypsy kind, but the motor home kind that retired people toodle around in. The milkmaid knocked on the door, and a tall chicken-headed creature wearing a purple jogging suit answered.

“Yez?” asked the chicken head.

“Uhmm…nice costume?” said the milkmaid hopefully.

“Halloveen. Yez. Tank you,” said the chicken head in a heavily accented female voice.

“Trick or treat?” The milkmaid held out her pail.

“Vwone moment,” said the chicken-woman.

Behind the door the milkmaid heard something that sounded like feathers flapping, followed by a squawk. Buh-kack!

The door opened, and the chicken-woman in the jogging suit plunked an egg into the pail.

“That’s not candy!” The milkmaid scowled.

“Candy iz bad for teeth.” The chicken-woman opened her beak, showing a mouth full of tooth rot.

“Right. Thanks!” said the milkmaid, and she turned and fled.

By now, the milkmaid’s arms were aching from carrying the heavy pail. But nothing could dampen her excitement. When she topped the last hill, she looked at the rundown farm that had been her home. “Soon, all of this will just be an unpleasant memory.”

That night, the milkmaid counted the candy. “Five hundred eighty-five pieces of candy and one egg. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be headed for Hollywood.” She set the pail beside her bed and nodded off to sleep.

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