Jake and The Big Hairy Lie
Chapter
1
If ever you hear of a smarter kid than my older brother
Jake, I’d like to know about it. Jake is the smartest kid this side of the
Equator. He reads from an old book as thick as my head. And he likes to
talk about planets and stars and animals. Just this morning he told me
that crocodiles can’t stick out their tongues and only girl mosquitoes
bite. I guess smart kids know these things. But the trouble with being so
smart is that sometimes you think of things you shouldn’t. Things that
leave you feeling like a lobster in a pot of boiling water.
For us the pot started boiling the day Mom asked Jake
and me to take some soup to our neighbor, Mrs. Wilson. She was just
getting over a bad case of the flu, Mom said. Dad told us it was from
eating too many crickets, but I’m pretty sure he was kidding.
I always like going to Mrs. Wilson’s house. She’s a kind
old lady just down the road who keeps candies in a jar by her door and
sometimes lets me take her pet rabbit Harry out of its cage and chase it
around the yard.
After carrying the soup pot to Mrs. Wilson’s house, we
were met on her porch by the biggest blackest hairiest old dog you’re
likely to see. “She must have a new pooch,” said Jake.
“Looks like trouble,” I said.
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