THIRTEEN

Adam Bomb again. Allow me to continue the story from here . . .

I felt so tense, I nearly exploded.

The Perfect twins, Peter and Patty, are bad news. But their parents, Parker and Penny Perfect, are a lot worse. They demand that Peter and Patty be perfect in every way.

Their pets have to be perfect, too. They even trained Mister Purrfect to stand up, salute, and purr “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

We knew the Perfects didn’t like being our neighbors. I’ll be the first to admit it. We aren’t exactly perfect.

We are noisy sometimes. We laugh a lot. We scream just for the fun of it.

Sometimes Wacky Jackie plays the bagpipes late at night when she can’t sleep. Our house band, the Bleeding Scabs, often practices in the backyard at night.

For some reason, Pooper, our big lovable mutt, thinks the Perfects’ front yard is a bathroom.

But that doesn’t make us bad neighbors—does it?

And now here they were, snooping on us. Eager to see if we had any parents. Ready to have us thrown out of our own home just because we are on our own.

It wasn’t fair.

And so, here I was, holding my breath along with everyone else. Waiting to hear the delightful BUZZZZZZZZZZ that meant one of them had grabbed the doorknob and was receiving the shock of their life.

“Is anyone home?” I heard Parker Perfect shout from the front stoop.

“The door is open. Come on in!” I shouted back.

Here it comes . . . ! Here it comes . . . !

The front door swung open. And Penny Perfect stepped into the house, followed by her husband.

They had smiles on their tanned faces. But we knew the smiles were pasted on. And as they sniffed the air, their smiles faded quickly.

“Hello, everyone,” Parker Perfect said.

We were all too stunned to answer.

The doorknob . . . I stared hard at it. The doorknob . . . It was a major fail.

Handy Sandy’s face was bright red. She started to sputter and choke, then ran to the kitchen for a glass of water.

“How is everyone today?” Penny Perfect asked cheerily.

No one answered. We were all thinking the same thing. Why weren’t they running for their lives, shrieking in pain?

“We came to speak to your parents,” Parker Perfect said. “Are they home?”

“Ptooey! Come over here. I’ll peck your eyes! I’ll eat your eyeballs like olives!”

Both Perfects gasped and turned toward Ptooey.

Mr. Perfect pointed at the bird. “Is that your parrot? Did you teach him to say that?”

“We didn’t teach him,” I said. “He kinda learned it on his own.”

“Ptooey!” The fat parrot lifted one scrawny bird leg and—PLOP—he pooped on the floor. We keep forgetting to put newspaper down.

“Could we speak to your mother or father?” Penny Perfect asked. I could see she was tense and didn’t know what to do with her hands. She tried to shove them into her pockets, but she didn’t have pockets.

“Would you like a snack?” Junkfood John asked. “I have a bag of oat balls I could bring out.”

Mr. Perfect squinted up his face. “Oat balls?”

John nodded. “Yeah. They’re awesome if you dip them in pork and beans.”

“No, thank you,” Parker Perfect said.

“I have clam bellies, too,” Junkfood John said. “They’re cold and a little slimy, but they still slide down your throat real good.”

Mrs. Perfect covered her mouth with one hand. She had gone pale. Well, actually, her skin had become pale green.

“Your mother or father?” she asked, her voice suddenly weak.

“They’re not home,” Brainy Janey said. I could see Janey’s brain had gone into high gear.

“Where are they?” Penny Perfect asked.

“They . . . had to go to the dentist,” Janey said.

“The dentist? Both of them?” Mr. Perfect asked.

“Yes,” Janey replied. “They had to have all their teeth pulled.”

“Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Perfect cried. “That’s horrible. Parker and I have perfect teeth. We go to the dentist once a week to have them checked. And they’re always perfect.”

“Why did they have all their teeth pulled?” Mr. Perfect asked.

Janey shrugged. “They just wanted to. For looks, I guess. They were having their piercings removed from their tongues, too.”

Both Perfects looked sick now. Penny’s chin was trembling. Parker kept swallowing hard.

“Well . . . we’ll come back,” Penny said, turning away. “We’ll come visit them when they’re over their . . . dental problems.”

“Yes. Tell them we came by to say hi,” Parker added.

The Perfects stumbled to the front of the house and quickly disappeared outside. The door closed hard behind them.

“Whew! That was close!” I cried.

“Way to go!” Babbling Brooke cried, and slapped Janey on the back. Janey and Junkfood John did a fist bump. “Go, Janey! Go, Janey!”

“I’m still shaking,” Nervous Rex stammered. “Look at me. I can’t stop sh-shaking.” He shook so hard, he rolled out of his chair and lay trembling on the floor.

“They’re gone. They couldn’t wait to get out of here,” I said. “Did you see the looks on their faces? Sick. They were sick!”

“Don’t get too excited,” Cranky Frankie said. “They’ll be back.”

Then we all turned to Handy Sandy.

“What happened?” I asked. “The doorknob? The great electrical shock that was supposed to send them away screaming?”

Sandy scratched her head. “Let me check.”

She reached under the table and pulled up the control box. “Hmmmm hmmmm.” Sandy hummed as she lowered her face close and examined it.

Finally, she looked up. “Wouldn’t you know it?” she muttered. “I forgot to turn it on.”

“You what?” I cried.

“I forgot to turn it on.” She threw the switch and it made a loud click. “Now it’s on. Watch,” Sandy said.

She walked to the front door. Then wrapped her hand around the doorknob.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZAAAAAAAAAAAAPP!

“YEEOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!”