WHERE’S A GIANT METEOROID WHEN YOU NEED ONE?

Did you scare wickle Rafey?” Bradley said in a singsong voice as he scooped the python from my bed.

Sheila was so big it took all of Bradley’s strength to lift the disgusting thing. “I wondered where you’d gone.”

“Like you didn’t know,” I said.

“Rafe!” Mom cut in before Bradley could reply. She put an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t be silly, honey. You’d have to be crazy to put a python in someone’s bed.”

“Well…,” I muttered, but Mom didn’t hear me. Perhaps it was for the best. She is usually someone who has my back, but she has this thing about being nice to people when you’re staying in their home. In her book, being rude to a host is a big no-no.

“Sheila wouldn’t hurt a fly, Ralph,” Biff said as the snake draped herself around Bradley’s shoulders and closed her eyes. “She’s one of the family.”

“Oh, yeah?” I sneered. “I’m not a fly, and the name’s Rafe, not Ralph. Got it, you overgrown Ken doll?”

Or that’s what I would have said if I had a spine.

Instead, I just kind of grunted and stared at the floor, wondering when this would be over. I’d used up most of my dignity already, and winning an argument with someone whose TV you’ve just destroyed is always going to be difficult. Plus, Biff probably hadn’t gotten over getting puked on by my mom yet.

Also, I was still only wearing my yellow boxer shorts. It’s hard to get angry when all that stands between you and public nudity is a piece of thin cotton decorated with purple stars.

“Awesome!” Danny held up his phone. “Seven hundred and fifty-five hits in three minutes. Man, this clip is clocking up some serious action!”

Everyone whooped.

Except me—and Mom, although I think I saw the beginnings of a smile around her mouth.

She patted me on the head. “Go back to bed, sugar,” she said quietly. “Try not to take it to heart. It’ll all seem better in the morning.”

I nodded even though I knew it wouldn’t seem better in the morning. That was just the kind of thing that moms say. Mom meant well, but she hadn’t looked deep into the shark eyes of the Coogan twins. If those androids had anything to do with it, my life would be even worse in the morning. I skulked toward the stairs, turning around to face them when I heard them cackling like a bunch of monkeys in a laughing-gas factory.

Danny stopped howling long enough to hold up the screen of his phone toward me. “I uploaded the whole clip, man!” he yelled, tears rolling down his face. “You should check it out. It’s on completefails.com. The clip’s called ‘Classic Rafe Khatchadorkian All-Time Snake Fail.’”

“I wouldn’t read the comments, dude,” Belinda said, looking up from her own phone.

I knew Belinda wasn’t trying to help me out. She was just letting me know that no matter how bad I thought the whole snake-screaming, TV-destroying humiliation had been, it was going to be a whole lot worse once everyone else on the planet had a chance to see it.

I turned around and went up the stairs to my room.

A while back, I’d seen a thing on TV about a giant meteoroid the size of Wyoming being on a possible collision course with Earth. If it hit, we’d all be wiped out in a split second.

Through the window, I looked up hopefully at the Shark’s Bay night sky. Where was a giant meteoroid when you needed one?