Fright at Midnight Jolly Phonics · Step 3, Unit 6: /ie/ mixed
Practice Words
Boom. Boom. Boom. Skel sits up in bed. It is midnight. A thing shakes the walls. Not a quake. Not a storm. A beat. A loud, thumping beat. And it comes from outside.
When the sun is up, Skel stomps outside to see the bad lot. Three llamas stand on the farm in the bright daylight, like they own it. They kick up dirt and stomp to a beat. 'Shoo!' yells Skel. 'Go home!' The llamas glance at him. Then they keep on stomping.
Skel lifts his chin. He points to the gate. 'I will count to three,' he says. 'One...' One llama sighs. One llama sits down. One llama turns and chomps on the crops.
The next day is bad. So bad. The three llamas invite pals. The pals invite more pals. Llamas fill the yard, the path, and the grass by the fence. What a sight! Skel tries to count them all. He gives up.
'Zom! The yard is a sight!' says Skel. But his pal Zom must feed his pigs. 'They are just llamas, Skel. What harm can they do?' 'They eat and eat,' says Skel. 'The grass. The crops. I think one is chewing a fence post!' Zom just grins. 'I will fix it after lunch.'
After lunch, Skel goes back to the farm. The crops are a mess. Llamas chew and chew in the sunlight, glad as can be. 'My, my,' Skel says. 'That is a big herd.'
Zom has a plan. He ties ropes on three llamas and starts to march. 'Where the lead llama goes, the rest will follow,' he says, cool as can be. And they do! One by one, the llamas get in line and march off the farm. Skel just gazes. 'Zom! How do they all follow like that?' Zom grins a sly grin. 'Llamas just like me.'
The farm is hushed. Skel stands by the pond. No stomps. No chomps. No llama beat. 'It will not last,' Skel says with a sigh. A frog goes, 'Rib-it!' 'See?' says Skel. 'The frog thinks so.'
It does not last. The next day, the llamas are back. All the old ones, plus new ones Skel has never seen. The herd surges onto the grass in high glee, pushing and pressing. The farm is the herd's best spot. And a llama will never give up the best spot.
'That is it!' yells Skel. He marches into the herd, waving his arms. 'I am all bones! I am a big fright! Run from me!' The llamas gaze at him. Then one spits. Then all the herd spits. Green, sticky, stinky spit! Skel slips and plops down in the goo.
Zom comes by. 'Skel? What is all that green?' 'Hush,' says Skel. 'The big fright plan was a flop, I bet,' says Zom. 'I said hush.' Zom tries not to grin. But he grins. 'Come on,' he says, pulling Skel up. 'Skel, that smell! It is like a llama's mouth!'
Inside, Zom brews a mix by lamp light. Skel sits still and sulks as Zom dabs the green gunk off him. 'We can not make them run,' says Zom. 'We can not lead them off. They just come back.' 'So what do we do?' asks Skel. Zom lifts the glowing jar and grins a slow, clever grin. 'We do not send them off. We make them help us!' Skel leans in. 'Tell me more.'
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