part 16 {lib} (i was feeling drastic)

Eliana woke up at 1:00 AM. Her cellphone was blaring obnoxiously; Addison must have played with it on the way home. Eliana picked it up to turn off the alarm, but was surprised to see that it was Hayden calling. She flipped the phone open.
"Hayden?" she asked.
"Hey! Are you awake?" Hayden asked, obviously energetic.
"No. Goodbye," Eliana answered.
"Wait!" Hayden said. "I have to tell you something!"
"At 1:00 in the morning?" Eliana asked, pulling on her echidna-shaped slippers.
"It'll only take a sec. So, here's the deal. My great-aunt Thelma is flying in from Thailand tomorrow."
"That's great, Hayden," Eliana replied, walking downstairs. She still failed to see how this news couldn't have waited until the next morning.
"Yeah, but it gets better. She's bringing someone with her."
"Who?"
"The Prime Minister's son!" Hayden answered, barely containing himself.
Eliana paused, her hand on the refrigerator door.
"Hayden, are you feeling ok?" she asked, finally, opening the door and pouring herself a glass of orange juice.
"Of course. Why?" Hayden asked.
"Oh, just wondering," she answered sarcastically, grabbing a couple fig newtons. "Why in the world would your great-aunt be bringing the prime-minister's son with her from Thailand? That doesn't sound weird to you?"
"You fail to remember that my great-aunt Thelma is in the secret service. This is her mission! And she and the kid are going to be staying with us," Hayden answered.
"Good grief! I did forget!" Eliana answered, choking on a fig newton. "That's insane. Hayden, stuff like that doesn't happen to people like us."
"I know," Hayden answered. "Apparently, the Prime Minister's son has spent most of his time in an American boarding school, and he's coming back to visit some friends. Aunt Thelma is taking him to their house, but they'll be stopping over in between."
"Wow. I guess this guy is pretty important, huh?" Eliana asked.
"Yup. The Prime Minister would only entrust him to the best: Aunt Thelma. He might be a little spoiled, by the way," Hayden went on.
"Uh oh. What do you mean?" Eliana asked.
"Well...He's our age, and he's had everything he's ever wanted since he was born. At least, Aunt Thelma hinted as much when she called a couple minutes ago."
That would explain why Hayden was calling her at this hour. In Thailand it was probably broad daylight.
"So when are they coming?" Eliana asked.
"Oh, tomorrow," Hayden answered.

Maybe this is extreme. Maybe not. This is only stress-relief after all. :) And:
"Everyone should be able to do one card trick, tell two jokes, and recite three poems, in case they are ever trapped in an elevator." Lemony Snicket's advice holds true for all of us.

just to lyk

hey all, it's rach. thanks for so faithfully reading this amazingly insane story!!

just to let you know, we have reached the end of the story...or, at least, what we've written of it. the rest will not be copied from a Word document, it will come straight from our brilliant minds. a fresh work of genius.

so that was just to let you know...

goodbye.

part 15 {rach}

“How’s it going with Mom?” Addison asked.
“Very fascinating,” Eliana admitted. “Her patients are very…”
“Unusual?” Hayden suggested.
Eliana grinned. “Yeah,” she said, “big time.”
“I can’t believe Mom can put up with all those looneys—”
“Addison…” Eliana warned.
“Okay fine,” Addison corrected himself. “I can’t believe she can put up with all those mentally disturbed people, and still not be willing to have an intelligent, clean and friendly pig around the house!”
Hayden laughed out loud, realizing where Addison was going. “Having a pig for a pet is slightly…unconventional, Add,” he said.
“Yeah, and so is having a snake sweater,” Addison retorted, sticking his tongue out like a five year old.
Eliana laughed. “I think having a pig for a pet is kind of cool. In a weird, eccentric sort of way, of course.”
“I’ll talk Mom into it one of these days, you just wait and see,” Addison said. “She’s getting lonely in the shed.”
“Your mom?” Eliana asked, her face a picture of innocence.
“No, Ursula,” Addison said, not at all catching on to the joke. “Poor little thing, cooped up in there with no one to play with.”
“That’s how I feel about being grounded, but no one ever pitys me like that,” Hayden said.
“When you get grounded, Hayden, it’s usally for a reason,” Addison returned.
“Yeah, like that time you put the spaghetti noodles up the—”
“Hey, I was young then!” Hayden cried.
“You were not, you were like fourteen,” Addison replied. “The only reason you get grounded is because you do stupid stuff like with the spaghetti noodles. Ursula’s never done anything wrong! She’s just a poor, unloved, rejected little animal who’s never known what it’s like to have a family.”
“Check please!” Hayden yelled, throwing his hands in the air in mock disgust. “End of conversation. This is getting too weird.”
“Hayd, we’re at a psychiatric ward. Things are going to get weird.”
Hayden laughed. “Come on, lets go eat lunch before we’re needed again.”
The rest of the day passed pretty uneventfully, if you disclude a man with a pet ink pen and a woman who couldn’t stop singing. Eliana drove home with the Zanglers around six, grabbed some leftovers from the fridge and crashed on the bed, exhausted from a long day.

*******************

to quote some random Anonymous person, "Never underestimate the power of human stupidity." oh yeah. :)

goodbye.

part 14 {lib}

“Alright,” Bernice answered, shuddering as she closed the paper bag. She smiled weakly at Eliana. “It was very nice to meet you, dear. I’m sure we shall be great friends. Goodbye, Doctor.” She gulped. “I shall do my very best with the plant.” Rising, she put the paper bag into her purse, zipped it shut, and patted it firmly. “Until next week.” She opened the door and walked out, tripping over her heels.
“You can see that certain plants are very distressing to her,” Mrs. Zangler said. “But she’s getting much better. She used to live in her house and never go out because there were too many plants she didn’t like. Now she goes all over town, and even conducts nature walks! I’m very pleased with her progress,” she added.
“I’m sure psychiatry can be a very rewarding profession,” Eliana answered. “Who’s next?”
“Well, I usually get lunch around this time. If you want, you could join Hayden and Addison downstairs,” Mrs. Zangler answered.
“What are they doing here?” Eliana asked, surprised.
“Oh, I set up an internship for them downstairs, in the PT ward,” Mrs. Zangler answered cheerfully. “They should have their lunch break about now.”

A few minutes later, Eliana was wandering through the hallways of the PT ward. She stopped at the secretary’s desk.
“Hi, I’m here to find Hayden and Addison Zangler. They’re interning here,” Eliana explained. The secretary smiled pleasantly.
“I believe they’re in the break room,” she answered. “It’s down the right hallway, second door on the left.”
“Thank you,” Eliana said. She followed the woman’s directions and found herself in a bright, cheery kitchenette. Hayden was blocking her view of Addison, but she could tell they were having an interesting conversation.
“If you had just listened to Dr. Kitchener, this wouldn’t have happened,” Hayden said, chuckling.
“Easy for you to say. I was stuck. Ah! The ice is melting down my shirt!” Addison yelped.
“What is going on?” Eliana asked, laughing. Her friends turned around.
“Well,” Hayden answered, grinning, “Add hasn’t quite learned to listen to the doctor’s orders.”
“I got stuck!” Addison protested. He was holding a Ziploc bag full of ice to his left eye. “We were going through Mr. Quadrangle’s reps and I got caught between the door and Mr. Quadrangle’s fist. He got me right in the eye.”
“A real shiner,” Hayden added helpfully. Eliana stifled a laugh.

As the hilarious (but unadmirable) Oscar Wilde stated: "Be Yourself; everyone else is already taken." I don't see how you could argue with that.

Ciao.

part 13 {rach}

“Um, no, I guess…daisies have always been my favorite flower.”
Bernice de Viliano gave Eliana a peculiar look. “Oh,” she said, “well, they are a bit common, but I must agree with you, they are lovely specimens nonetheless. They have a very simple beauty, don’t you agree?”
“Oh, to be sure,” Eliana said, nodding her head emphatically.
“Very good,” Miss de Viliano ejaculated, smiling widely.
“Yes, very good,” Mrs. Zangler repeated. “Now, let’s get down to business, Bernice. I would like you to hold something for me.” She opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a small paper bag. “Hold out your hand,” she said, and Miss de Viliano complied. Mrs. Zangler poured out about a dozen small, black seeds.
Miss de Viliano cringed, making a face. “These are dihydrondicatle Popenlamusted seeds!” she exclaimed. “Oh, take them back, quickly, take them back.”
“I want you to take them home with you, Bernice,” Mrs. Zangler said quietly.
“I couldn’t possibly!!” Miss de Viliano cried. “You know how much I loathe this specific species!”
“And that’s why I want you to have them,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Take them home, plant them in a nice pot with good, healthy soil, and watch them grow. Make friends with them, Bernice. It will do you good.”
Miss de Viliano’s lip quivered. “Are you absolutely, positively serious?”
“Yes I am,” Mrs. Zangler said, smiling. “It’s an order from your psychiatrist.”
“But how can I make friends with…with a Popenlamusted plant? Especially one that is dihydrondicatled? It’s absolutely impossible. You know my aversion towards them, Ophelia.”
“Think of it this way, Bernice,” Mrs. Zangler said. “These plants are lonely! They’re hardly ever grown in captivity, and they’re usually eaten by the wildlife everywhere else. You could give this plant life!! You could give it friendship, love, and a reason to thrive! This is your assignment for this coming week—please try to be kind to it?”
Miss de Viliano sighed. “I can try,” she said, pouring the seeds back into the paper bag.
“Very good, Bernice, I’m proud of you,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Please bring the plant in for your appointment next week. I’ll see you then, alright?”

***************************

to quote the random internet find Douglas Adams, "Flying is learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss." how profound. (?)

goodbye.

part 12 {lib}

“I’m sure it’s very difficult,” Mrs. Zangler sympathized. “But we need to find some ways to help you let go.”
“But I—don’t—want—to,” Mr. Blumbergen wailed.
Mrs. Zangler tried a different tack. “How do you feel when you think about Charlie?”
“Horrible,” Mr. Blumbergen answered, calming down. “Just horrible.”
“But Charlie loved you, didn’t he?” she continued.
“Of course. Ever since I brought him here from the Billabong twenty-three years ago. He was so attached to me.”
“Well, Charlie would certainly want you to stop crying and missing him, then. He would want you to be happy and go on with your life, don’t you think?” Mrs. Zangler went on.
“I guess so,” Mr. Blumbergen replied, doubtfully.
“I have a partial solution for you, Mr. Blumbergen. I think you should take this lizard home with you,” Mrs. Zangler told him, pulling a small glass jar from her purse. Inside was a rainbow-striped rubber lizard. “What do you think of this, Mr. Blumbergen?” Mrs. Zangler asked. The man peered through the glass at the obnoxiously colored rubber toy.
“It’s very nice,” he said, with a mixture of caution and curiosity.
“How would you like to take this lizard home with you until next week? You could consider him a kind of substitute for Charlie,” Mrs. Zangler went on. Mr. Blumbergen bit his lip.
“Nothing can replace Charlie,” he said firmly, but his eyes were watering a little, Eliana thought.
“Certainly not!” Mrs. Zangler answered indignantly. “But we can enjoy other things, along with the memory of Charlie, can’t we?”
“I suppose,” Mr. Blumbergen sniffed.
“Good, good. Now you just take him home with you and treat him the same way you treated Charlie when he was alive. Come back next week and we’ll see how things are going, all right?”
“All right,” Mr. Blumbergen agreed, dabbing his eyes with a large white hankie.
“You have a nice day now,” Mrs. Zangler said, handing him the jar. Mr. Blumbergen took it, opened the door, and walked out, mumbling in reply to Eliana’s farewell.
Mrs. Zangler sighed, wrote some things on her clipboard, and turned to Eliana.
“Well, dear, you can see that this isn’t always the easiest job. Mr. Blumbergen has been coming here for the past few months, as Charlie was getting older. And then Charlie finally died, and he’s been such a wreck. To be honest, this is the best I’ve seen him since that day.” Sighing again, Mrs. Zangler removed the straw hat she had been wearing. “Let’s see, who’s next … Ah, Miss de Viliano. She’s such a lovely lady; I think you’ll enjoy her very much. I should inform you, though, that she has something of an obsession with plants, jungles, forests, and all things related. She should be here any minute.”
“This is fascinating,” Eliana answered. “I had no idea that people had such … well, weird problems.”
“Yes, well, we get all kinds,” Mrs. Zangler answered. A buzzer sounded on her monitor. She pressed a button and said, “Yes, Gertie?” The receptionist’s voice came through.
“Miss de Viliano is here, Doctor,” said Gertie.
“Thank you, please send her in,” Mrs. Zangler answered. A few moments later, the door opened and a tall, dark-haired woman entered. Eliana was at once struck by the imposing air of the lady, as well as her somewhat absurd outfit. Miss de Viliano was dressed in a coat that strongly resembled the old carpetbag Eliana had seen in her grandmother’s attic. Her skirt was an iguana green pattern of vines, with monkeys, chameleons, and caterpillars interspersed. Her stockings were white with pine trees and her shoes were six inch heels with beaded leaves. To crown it all, on her dark nest of hair was a forest green plush hat with enormous red flowers sewn on it.
“Hello, Bernice,” Mrs. Zangler said, extending her hand. Miss de Viliano took it and smiled widely.
“Delighted to see you, Doctor,” she replied, her voice deep and elegant. “I saw the most delightful Poculius bush outside your office, I had no idea that you knew the species!”
Mrs. Zangler seemed surprised. “Indeed, I did not know there was such a marvelous specimen in our flower beds! You must show it to me!”
“Do you like Poculious bushes?” Miss de Viliano asked, turning to Eliana.
“Er, I don’t know,” Eliana answered honestly. “I’ve never seen one.”
“Bernice de Viliano III,” the woman said, extending her hand. Eliana shook it, noticing that her nails were painted bright orange with green vines.
“Eliana Vostras. Nice to meet you.”
“I’m simply delighted, Miss Vostras. Or can I call you Eliana? That’s so much nicer, don’t you think?”
“Yes, of course,” Eliana answered politely.
“Splendid, splendid! And you must call me Bernice. I know we shall be wonderful friends,” she paused. “That is, unless you like the prehistoric species deciduous Algamonicus Venti.”
“The wha--” Eliana began.
“The prehistoric species deciduous Algamonicus Venti. I have a particular aversion to that plant, and I really couldn’t be in your company if you liked it. But I’m sure you don’t. Do you?”

As Lauren Myracle (another random person I dug up) profoundly states, "You should eat a waffle! You can't be sad if you eat a waffle!" I could not agree more. What a profound truth.

characters

One of our dedicated readers has asked for a list of characters to help keep things straight. I'd be happy to oblige.

the Vostras family:
Eliana Vostras is the main character. duh.
her mom is Alexandra Vostras
her dad is unnamed :)

the Zangler family:
Hayden and Addison Zangler are also main characters. duh.
thier mom is Ophelia Zangler
thier dad is George Zangler
Hayden has a snake named Elliot, and Addison is hoping to be able to keep Ursula the potbellied pig.

other less-important characters:
Mrs. Cornwallis - Addison's history teacher
Mrs. Xymena Kirk - Ursula's former owner
Colleen and Georgiana Thorndike - slightly irritating schoolmates
Mr. Hogland - the hero in Mrs. Vostras's novels
Mr. Beckman - a slightly crazy homeroom teacher
Mr. Rodney Vendetta - the Zanglar's grouchy neighbor
Mr. Blumbergen - one of Mrs. Zangler's patients; he's going through withdrawl from his pet lizard Charlie
Miss Bernice de Viliano - one of Mrs. Zangler's patients; she's obsessed with botany

that's it so far. any questions?

part 11 {rach}

“Yeah, but it has to be the right type of weird,” Eliana said, playing along. “It can’t be just any old eccentric acting goofy. Being weird takes talent.”
Hayden laughed. “But seriously,” he said, “what do you think about the job? You want to do the internship?”
“I guess it would work,” Eliana mused. “I’m still working at the gym, but that’s only for a few hours after school. I’m sure Gary would let me have the week off, I’d just have to ask.” She grinned and winked at Addison. “And I’ve always wondered what goes on at your mom’s work. You said there’s a man who’s really scared to learn another language?”
The conversation proceeded likewise, while Ursula sat contentedly on Addison’s lap. The pig soon drifted off to sleep, snoring rhythmically. Addison stroked her head while he talked, unconsciously rubbing behind her ears.
Eliana smiled to herself. A pig, she thought. Who would’ve guessed?

Eliana called Gary that night, and he seemed pretty okay with her taking the week off. “I’ve got a new kid who’s been begging for a job,” he had said to her. “Maybe I’ll give him a try while you’re away.”
So on Monday morning, Eliana was knocking on the Zangler’s door at 6:30am. Mrs. Zangler opened the door, seemingly very awake. She was wearing a floral shirt and a large, straw hat. “’Morning, deary,” she said, stepping to the side to let Eliana in.
“I like your… shirt,” Eliana said, glancing at the bright red and pink flowers.
“Oh I just wear this for Mrs. Kibbledoffer,” Mrs. Zangler explained, laughing. “She’s slightly obsessed with forestry. And the hat,” she said, glancing up at the wide brim that shaded her face, “is in honor of Mr. Blumbergen. His pet lizard died last week, and he’s having withdrawal. He says straw hats and pickle jars comfort him, so I thought I’d try to help out.”
“How very thoughtful,” Eliana said genuinely.
“Why thank you, deary,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Come on into the kitchen, I’m almost ready to leave. But you’d better be quiet dear, Mr. Zangler is still sleeping. He was up late last night trying to fix the garbage disposal.”
“Really?” Eliana asked, sitting down on one of the stools by the kitchen island. “What happened to it?”
“The wooden salad tongs got stuck again, and Hayden turned it on while they were down there.” She chuckled at the memory. “There were woodchips clean across the kitchen. Here, have a glass of tomato juice.” Mrs. Zangler handed Eliana a cup and a bottle of juice. “So, dear, are you ready for the life of a psychiatrist?”
Eliana smiled, pouring the juice into her cup. “I’m not sure yet,” she said. “I guess we’ll know soon, though, won’t we?”

Mr. Blumbergen was Mrs. Zangler’s first patient. Eliana sat to the side of Mrs. Zangler’s desk and prepared to watch her work. Mr. Blumbergen was middle aged, with graying brown hair and a large nose. His fingers twitched nervously as he sat in the chair across from Mrs. Zangler.
“Good morning Mr. Blumbergen!” Mrs. Zangler cried enthusiastically. “How was your weekend?”
“Not too good,” Mr. Blumbergen said, his eyes flitting around fretfully. “My neighbor bought a new weed whacker.”
“And is there a problem with that?” Mrs. Zangler asked.
“It reminds me of Charlie,” the man said, sniffing loudly.
“Charlie was his lizard,” Mrs. Zangler explained to Eliana.
Mr. Blumbergen seemed to realize for the first time that Eliana was in the room. He stared at her without blinking, looking confused.
“Oh, I’ve forgotten to introduce you!” Mrs. Zangler exclaimed. “Mr. Blumbergen, this is my friend and neighbor, Eliana Vostras. She is interning with me this week, and will be staying with me to watch how I work.”
“Glad to meet you,” Eliana said politely.
“Hmmph,” Mr. Blumbergen huffed, impolitely.
“Now, back to business,” Mrs. Zangler said. “Have you talked to your neighbor about his weed-whacker?”
“Yup,” Mr. Blumbergen said. “I told him I couldn’t stand to listen to it.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said to buzz off. He said he was allowed to weed whack his yard, just so long as it was after nine in the morning.”
“Well, he is right, you know,” Mrs. Zangler said.
Mr. Blumbergen sniffed. “But I can’t stop thinking about Charlie,” he said. “Every time in hear the hum of that weed whacker, I’m reminded of my sister in Venezuela. And that reminds me of her unusual toaster oven, which reminds me of those huge Asian elephants, which reminds me of my laptop, which makes me think of Charlie!” Mr. Blumbergen sniffed again, and Mrs. Zanger handed him a tissue.
Eliana was utterly confused.
***************************************

I must again quote the esteemed Oscar Wilde, especially since I am required to do a biography on him for literature. as he so bravely put it, "I have nothing to declare except my genuis." My sentiments exactly.

*blink blink* wait a minute. wait a minute! I just realized something. Mr. Wilde spelled genius wrong. how preposterous!! he must have been a fake. I am utterly disgusted. well, the one comforting thing is that we all know that I am *much* smarter than he is. yes.

goodbye.

part 10 {lib}

“Let’s just say I had an interesting day at work,” she answered. She then related everything that had happened that afternoon. “I guess she couldn’t wait to get rid of Ursula,” Eliana finished.
“She did mention something about leaving for Guatemala at four o’clock in the morning,” Addison remembered. “To tell the truth, I kind of have Ursula on trial. Mrs. Kirk said that when she gets back from Guatemala she’ll come and visit to see how Ursula is doing, and if she’s happy, I get to keep her.”
“And if she’s not?” Hayden asked.
“Then she goes back to Mrs. Kirk,” Addison answered.
“Well, I foresee that happening anyway,” Hayden said. “Mom barely let me keep Elliot, and he doesn’t run free.”
“True. But don’t worry about it. I’ll just set my persuasion skills to work and I’m sure Mom will relent. In the mean time, I think Ursula will sleep in your room, Hayd.”
“And you can sleep in the garage,” Hayden answered sweetly.
Eliana laughed. “How about the shed?” she suggested. “For Ursula, not Addison,” she clarified.
“Yeah, I guess that’s where she can stay for tonight,” Addison agreed. The three were silent for a few minutes.
“How’s your mom’s book coming?” Hayden asked finally.
“All right, I think. I talked to her about it a little when I got home from school. She said she somehow got Mr. Hogland locked in a closet with an eggplant and she’s not sure how to get him out, but otherwise, she’s moving ahead. She promised to let us read it before sending it to her editor.”
“Not to change the subject or anything, but my mom was saying that their having internships at the office next week, if you’re interested,” Hayden told her.
“Your mom’s psychiatry office?” Eliana asked.
“Yeah. It’s super fun to go there after school,” Addison answered. “She’s got the most interesting patients. There’s this one man who only speaks Polish because he’s afraid of learning another language. And then there’s the lady who only wears floral patterns because of some jungle obsession dealio. It’s fascinating,” he finished, his voice full of enthusiasm.
“It does sound interesting,” Eliana agreed.
“And we all know that you like weird stuff,” Hayden said.

As the oft quoted Lemony Snicket so profoundly put it: "If you are allergic to a thing, it is best not to put that thing in your mouth, particularly if the thing is cats." I quite agree. I'm sure it's the same with hedgehogs.

Have a fabulous life.

part 9 {rach}

“Well, back in ’87…”
Mr. Vendetta’s story was interrupted by a piecing shriek from the house. “Excuse me,” Mr. Zangler cried hurriedly, rushing into the house with Hayden and Eliana right behind him. Mr. Vendetta was left in a cloud of smoke.

As Eliana entered the house, she was again reminded of the meal Mrs. Zangler was preparing. She wrinkled up her nose and followed the sound – and the smell – to the kitchen.
Mrs. Zangler was standing on the kitchen counter, gripping a cupboard door as if her life depended on it. “GEORGE!!” she screamed, inching back on the counter and trying not to loose her balance.
“For goodness sake, Ophelia,” Mr. Zangler cried, “what’s the matter?”
Mrs. Zangler tried to catch her breath. “A pig!!” she sputtered. “A dirty, smelly, fat little pig just ran through my kitchen!”
Eliana and Hayden glanced at each other, both confused. “Uh, Mom… a pig?” Hayden asked.
Mrs. Zangler narrowed her eyes and began to climb off the counter. “I am not crazy, young man,” she said. “There was an honest-to-goodness pig running through my kitchen. What I want to know is which one of you brought him in here?” Her eyes went back and forth from Eliana to Hayden to her husband and back again.
Addison’s head popped around the corner. “Uh, mom?” he said quietly.
“What is it, Addison?” Mrs. Zangler snapped.
Addison hesitated. “Actually, pigs aren’t dirty or smelly. They’re some of the cleanest animals alive. And they’re smart, and they make great pets…”
All eyes turned to Addison.
“If you mean to tell me,” Mrs. Zangler began, looking as if she was going to blow her top, “that you brought that creature into this house expecting to keep it as a pet--”
“But mom, she’s a nice pig!” Addison protested.
“Absolutely not!” Mrs. Zangler cried at the top of her lungs. She had snapped. “Addison Frederick Zangler, you find that pig and get him out of this house right now!”
“It’s a she, not a he,” Addison said quietly. “Her name is Ursula.”
Mrs. Zangler’s face was turning from a deep shade of red to an alarming purple. Addison took the cue, hurrying out of the kitchen calling, “Ursula!”

“I just don’t get what’s so gross about a pig,” Addison said. He was sitting on the front porch with Hayden and Eliana, holding the potbelly pig on his lap.
“Pigs do have a pretty big reputation,” Hayden commented.
“But it’s all false!” Addison retorted. “Pigs are clean, smart and wonderful pets.”
“But what about the way they eat?” Eliana asked.
“So what?” Addison replied. “Hayden eats like that sometimes. But pigs clean up after themselves, unlike some people.”
“Gee, thanks a lot,” Hayden muttered. “But what about the phrase ‘sweating like a pig’?”
“It’s a bunch of bologna,” Addison said. “Pigs don’t have sweat glands – that’s why they roll in the mud.”
Hayden sat in sulky silence, defeated.
“Where did you get the pig, Add?” Eliana asked, having enough foresight to see that it would be wise to change the subject.
“Some lady gave him to me,” Addison replied. “She was just walking down the street with Ursula on a leash. I said I liked her pig, and she asked if I wanted to keep her.”
“And you said yes,” Hayden said, rolling his eyes.
“Did this lady, by any change, have an interesting name?” Eliana asked.
“Yeah,” Hayden said, thinking. “Like, Exelmira Fitzpatrick or something.”
“Xymena Kirk, maybe?” Eliana asked.
“That’s it!” Addison agreed. “How’d you know?”

***********************************************************

to quote the highly esteemed Mr. Walt Disney, "We allow no geniuses around our Studio. " I have no idea what that means, but it sounds good. I wholeheartedly agree.

goodbye.

Part 8 {lib}

“Really, George,” Mrs. Zangler was saying, “I don’t understand what happened to the sauce.”
“I just hobe you followebd the recibe this tibe, Ophelia,” Mr. Zangler answered. Eliana quickly realized he had a large wooden clothespin on the end of his nose, which was distorting his speech.
“Hi Mrs. Zangler, hi Mr. Zangler,” Eliana called. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Hello, dear! Would you take this platter out to Hayden? He’s grilling the hotdogs,” Mrs. Zangler replied.
“You want one of these?” Mr. Zangler asked, offering her a clothespin. Eliana shook her head, laughing, and pulled the sliding glass door open. The patio was blanketed in smoke from the grill, and Eliana could hear Hayden coughing somewhere within its depths.
“Hayd? You ok?” she asked, making her way over to where he was grilling.
“Yeah,” he coughed. “The grill is a little smoky, that’s all.”
“Sure,” Eliana answered, skeptically. “I hope you didn’t burn the hotdogs,” she teased.
“Well, I’m still kinda getting the hang of this grilling thing,” Hayden admitted sheepishly. “A few of them are—shall we say—slightly well done?”
He opened the grill, releasing new puff of smoke, and displaying several charred, blackened hotdogs as well as a number of normal ones. He was piling them onto the platter Eliana was holding when they heard someone calling over the fence.
“Uh oh,” Hayden murmured. “What did you say, Mr. Vendetta?” he said, louder.
“I said that you were going to get the fire department over here, with all that smoke,” a loud voice answered. Leaning over the fence was Mr. Vendetta, an older man with thick glasses and an enormous straw hat, which he was vigorously fanning.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Hayden apologized. “It’s starting to clear out now.”
“What are you doing fooling around with that grill anyway, young ‘un?” Mr. Vendetta asked.
“Well, I’m just starting, you know, Home Ec. and all, and I was just--,” Hayden started saying.
“What’s going on, Rodney?” Mr. Zangler asked, walking over.
“Well, the young ‘un here doesn’t seem to know that he’s polluting the air with all this improperly managed smoke,” Mr. Vendetta answered.
“He’s learning how to grill, Rodney,” Mr. Zangler explained. “Don’t worry, the smoke will be cleared out soon. I suggest you go inside and eat your dinner, like everyone else.”
“I’m not hungry!” Mr. Vendetta answered indignantly. “Now, young ‘un, you need to turn the gas down. And move the racks over a little bit.”
Hayden, bewildered, followed his instructions, while Mr. Zangler watched, holding back a laugh.
“Now stick those ‘dogs on the grill, that’s right, horizontally, and close it for three minutes. Did I ever tell you about the time I almost grilled a raccoon, George?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Mr. Zangler answered, looking as if he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to hear that story.

As Olin Miller, some random guy, so excellently stated, “Writing is the hardest way of earning a living, with the possible exception of wrestling alligators.” We could not agree more and hope this deepens your appreciation of what we are trying to do here.