Home Alone 2: Lost in New York pdfdrive com

Clank-a-clank-a-clank! The tool chest was picking up speed as it rolled down
the stairs.
"What's that sound?" Harry asked.
WHAM! The tool chest smashed into the door, knocking it off its hinges.
CRUNCH! The door flew backwards, crushing the bad guys into the wall.
Clack! The door fell away, leaving Harry and Marv embedded in the wall.
"I think," Marv moaned, "that was the sound of a tool chest falling down the
stairs."
While the bad guys pried themselves out of the wall, Kevin ran up the stairs to
the roof where he'd left a long coil of thick rope soaking in a bucket of kerosene.
One end of the rope was tied around a hundred-pound bag of cement. Kevin
pulled on a pair of work gloves and threw the rest of the rope over the side of the
building. Then he climbed over the edge of the roof and carefully lowered
himself down the rope to the scaffolding beside the first floor.
Harry and Marv staggered up the stairs.
"I don't care if I get the chair," Harry swore as he lugged the green gym bag
filled with cash. "I'm gonna kill that kid."
"If we can catch him," Marv said.
"We'll catch him," Harry said. "He's on the roof. Where's he gonna go?"
"Last time he went to a tree house," Marv said.
Harry reached the top of the stairs and kicked open the roof door.
"Surrender, kid!" he shouted, stepping out into the cold, dark night air.

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"Surrender, kid!" he shouted, stepping out into the cold, dark night air.
Marv looked around the roof. "I don't see him, Harry."
"I'm down here, you morons!" Kevin shouted from the scaffolding below.
Harry and Marv ran to the edge of the roof and looked down.
Kevin waved and yelled. "Nice night for a neck injury!"
"Let's get him," Marv shouted, grabbing the thick rope. But before he climbed
over the roof edge, Harry slapped him on the head.
"Are you nuts?" Harry asked. "That's exactly what he wants us to do. You got a
memory?"
"What're you talking about?" Marv asked.
"Look." Marv pointed at the end of the rope tied to the bag of cement. "He's
smart, but not smart enough. A hundred pounds of cement. It'll hold the kid. It
ain't gonna hold us. We get on the rope and we'll go straight down."
"So what do we do?" Marv asked.
"We'll just have to disappoint the little creep." Harry untied the rope from the
bag and knotted it securely around a vent pipe. Then he grabbed the rope and
started to lower himself over the side of the building.
"Harry, you're a genius," Marv said admiringly as he followed his partner over
the side.
On the scaffolding below, Kevin watched the two bad guys lower themselves
down the rope alongside the brownstone. This is going to be good, he thought as
he struck a kitchen match against a brick.
Two stories above, as Marv inched down the rope, he started to smell something
strange. "Hey, Harry, you wearing after-shave?"
"What're you talking about?" Harry asked below him.
"I smell something," said Marv.

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"That ain't after-shave." Harry stopped and took a whiff. "It's kerosene. The
rope's soaked in it."
"Why would somebody soak a rope in kerosene?'' Marv asked.
Below them, Kevin had the answer. He held the brightly glowing match to the
bottom of the rope. "Merry Christmas, guys!"
Harry watched in horror as the bottom of the kerosene-soaked rope burst into
flames. "Go up!" he screamed.
Instantly, Marv and Harry started wriggling upward like two giant caterpillars,
but the soaked rope was slippery and the flames raced up faster than the bad
guys could. On the scaffolding, Kevin quickly checked to make sure the planks
of wood and open cans of varnish were in position for the final bombing. Then
he grabbed his backpack, jumped down to the sidewalk, and ran toward the park.
The flames continued to streak up the rope. A second later Kevin heard screams
as Marv and Harry let go and crashed down through the loose wooden planks of
the scaffolding, catapulting the pails of varnish high into the air. As the bad guys
landed in the small garden below the scaffolding, they stared up in horror at the
thick brown plume of varnish arching above them.
Splash! The varnish poured down, soaking them to the skin.
CLUNK! CLUNK! They were each smashed on the head with an empty varnish
can.

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