Read Online Creature from the 7th Grade : Boy or Beast (9781101591833) by Andy (ILT) Bob; Rash Balaban - Free Book Online
Authors: Andy (ILT) Bob; Rash Balaban
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Dumbo until my mom threatened to stop inviting him for Thanksgiving unless he quit. For a second I actually miss being the biggest kid in my school and possibly the world. Which is when my alarm rings again.
Only this time it is my real alarm clock. Not the alarm clock in my dream. And this time I really do wake up. And this time when I run to the bathroom to get a good look at myself, I hit my head on the door frame because I am taller than Bigfoot. And this time when I look into the mirror, I have to duck way down to see my enormous, green, scaly head and almond-shaped, heavily hooded eyes staring back and me.
I am still the exact same creature I was last night. Only a little more rested. And a whole lot hungrier.
Â
OH, BROTHER!
"DO YOU WANT bacon or sausage with those eggs, Charlie?â my mom asks, as she races around the kitchen making breakfast.
âCan I have both?â I ask.
âWhy not?â she answers. âI must say, honey, your new outfit fits you to a tee.â
âItâs great. Thanks, Mom. I donât know how you did it.â Iâm wearing the clothes my mom made for me last night out of the fabric she was saving for new living room drapes. If you tried to design one outfit to make sure your son would be the laughingstock of his entire school, this would be it.
Iâm wearing shiny green satin pants, a matching green satin cap, a green satin polo shirt (thereâs even a little green satin alligator sewn onto the pocket. Iâm not kidding), giant green satin slippers, and a matching bright-green satin cape. It was supposed to be an overcoat, but Mom didnât have enough time to sew in the arms and put on the buttons.
I look like a cross between an Irish matador, the Jolly Green Giant, and the Incredible Hulk. But I know how hard my mom worked on my outfit. And I donât want to seem ungrateful. So I keep it to myself.
âHow about you, Dave?â Mom asks.
âBacon, please, and can I have some more milk, Mom?â Dave asks. âCoach Grubman says to eat lots of protein. The big play-off is only two days away.â
âComing right up.â My mom wipes her hands on her apron.
Dave is still wearing his ice pack. He hasnât mentioned his strained wrist since he got up. I hope heâs feeling better, but Iâm not bringing it up if he doesnât. I donât feel like getting snapped at this morning. Iâm already nervous enough as it is about âprovisional reentryâ and my welcome-back assembly.
âAnybody see my keys?â my dad asks as he hurries into the kitchen. âI know theyâre around here somewhere.â It wouldnât be breakfast if my father didnât lose his keys.
âYour eggs are almost done, Fred,â Mom says, heading for the stove.
âNo time, Doris. Iâve got to catch the eight fifteen express to Champaign/Urbana. Big meeting with the head of national sales at ten. Canât be late. Now, if you were keys where would you be?â
âI would be sitting on the counter where you always put me.â Mom sighs. âNot even a cup of coffee, Fred?â
Dad just points to his watch, grabs his keys, puts them in his pocket, and studies his reflection in the glass doors of the kitchen cabinets.
âHow are you feeling this morning, Charlie?â Dad straightens his tie and adjusts his collar.
âBig,â I say. âReally, really big.â
âThatâs nice,â he says. When my dadâs in rush mode, you could tell him there was a purple aardvark sitting on top of his head and he wouldnât bat an eyelash.
âBye, everybody.â He gives Mom a peck on the cheek, flies out the door, and comes flying back instantly. âOops. Forgot my briefcase.â Mom just picks it up off the floor where he always leaves it and hands it to him silently, and off he goes again.
âYou got a little bacon grease on your new shirt, Charlie,â Mom
Only this time it is my real alarm clock. Not the alarm clock in my dream. And this time I really do wake up. And this time when I run to the bathroom to get a good look at myself, I hit my head on the door frame because I am taller than Bigfoot. And this time when I look into the mirror, I have to duck way down to see my enormous, green, scaly head and almond-shaped, heavily hooded eyes staring back and me.
I am still the exact same creature I was last night. Only a little more rested. And a whole lot hungrier.
Â
OH, BROTHER!
"DO YOU WANT bacon or sausage with those eggs, Charlie?â my mom asks, as she races around the kitchen making breakfast.
âCan I have both?â I ask.
âWhy not?â she answers. âI must say, honey, your new outfit fits you to a tee.â
âItâs great. Thanks, Mom. I donât know how you did it.â Iâm wearing the clothes my mom made for me last night out of the fabric she was saving for new living room drapes. If you tried to design one outfit to make sure your son would be the laughingstock of his entire school, this would be it.
Iâm wearing shiny green satin pants, a matching green satin cap, a green satin polo shirt (thereâs even a little green satin alligator sewn onto the pocket. Iâm not kidding), giant green satin slippers, and a matching bright-green satin cape. It was supposed to be an overcoat, but Mom didnât have enough time to sew in the arms and put on the buttons.
I look like a cross between an Irish matador, the Jolly Green Giant, and the Incredible Hulk. But I know how hard my mom worked on my outfit. And I donât want to seem ungrateful. So I keep it to myself.
âHow about you, Dave?â Mom asks.
âBacon, please, and can I have some more milk, Mom?â Dave asks. âCoach Grubman says to eat lots of protein. The big play-off is only two days away.â
âComing right up.â My mom wipes her hands on her apron.
Dave is still wearing his ice pack. He hasnât mentioned his strained wrist since he got up. I hope heâs feeling better, but Iâm not bringing it up if he doesnât. I donât feel like getting snapped at this morning. Iâm already nervous enough as it is about âprovisional reentryâ and my welcome-back assembly.
âAnybody see my keys?â my dad asks as he hurries into the kitchen. âI know theyâre around here somewhere.â It wouldnât be breakfast if my father didnât lose his keys.
âYour eggs are almost done, Fred,â Mom says, heading for the stove.
âNo time, Doris. Iâve got to catch the eight fifteen express to Champaign/Urbana. Big meeting with the head of national sales at ten. Canât be late. Now, if you were keys where would you be?â
âI would be sitting on the counter where you always put me.â Mom sighs. âNot even a cup of coffee, Fred?â
Dad just points to his watch, grabs his keys, puts them in his pocket, and studies his reflection in the glass doors of the kitchen cabinets.
âHow are you feeling this morning, Charlie?â Dad straightens his tie and adjusts his collar.
âBig,â I say. âReally, really big.â
âThatâs nice,â he says. When my dadâs in rush mode, you could tell him there was a purple aardvark sitting on top of his head and he wouldnât bat an eyelash.
âBye, everybody.â He gives Mom a peck on the cheek, flies out the door, and comes flying back instantly. âOops. Forgot my briefcase.â Mom just picks it up off the floor where he always leaves it and hands it to him silently, and off he goes again.
âYou got a little bacon grease on your new shirt, Charlie,â Mom
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