Story Snippet

   Well, today I thought I'd put up a snippet of a story I'm working on. Since I will likely end up posting bits and pieces of multiple different stories during this blogging adventure, I'd better note that this is from a specific book-in-progress called Going Ballistic. As a warning, since I don't want to put up a whole chapter all at once, I'm going to cut it off short. So if you end up liking what you see and want to know the rest of the chapter, came back in a few days, and I'll probably post the rest up by then! 

   But as it says on the sidebar, these literary works of mine aren't here for the taking, so please don't copy any of it without my permission. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter One

   To be fair, it was certainly not my idea. No matter how many times Emm tries to claim it was my fault, I had nothing to do with it. Well, not until I had to. But before that, it was all Emm’s plan. I merely went along with it because I couldn’t seem to stay out of it.

   With all that said, perhaps I’d better tell you what happened. 

   It all started with the fact that our next-door neighbor, Mr. Aminal, whom Emm and I call Mr. Animal, had a peculiar affection for all types of creatures. And when I say creatures, I’m talking about boa constrictors, tropical birds, Dungeness crab, and all types of squirrels. And believe it or not, he kept them all in his house. Either that, or they made their home in his basement. I have no idea how the city let him get away with it. Perhaps they didn’t care. Or maybe, like me, they just thought he was a crazy old bachelor and decided it would be best to leave him to his own business. Whatever the case, Mr. Aminal had about twenty or thirty exotic animals living with him. Sometimes when I stood at our kitchen window, I could see him waltzing through his house with a cockatoo on each shoulder and a flying squirrel nestled in his long gray hair. I secretly thought he was actually Doctor Dolittle gone mad. Whenever he caught me staring, he’d give me a huge grin and tilt his head to one side like an inquisitive parrot. Seeing him do that kind of gave me the willies, to be honest. Sometimes I wondered if he was in fact a human and not some type of jungle curiosity himself.

   My little sister Emm, however, thought Mr. Aminal was wonderful. Mom and Dad didn’t let us go to his house or anything, but some days Emm would sit on our front porch and talk to Mr. Aminal through one of his windows. He’d show her all his creepy crawlies and his furry creatures through the mesh screen, and she’d laugh at his birds’ antics until she was practically blue in the face. But what delighted her most of all was his monkey, Ballistic. 

   I naturally distrusted the creature, no matter how friendly it was. With a name like that, who knows what it’s capable of? Emm claims I’m just paranoid, and maybe I am, but it’s better to be safe than sorry where life and death is concerned. I mean, who knows what kinds of diseases Mr. Animal’s aminals --I mean, Mr. Aminal’s animals-- carry? I am the type of kid who is careful. I’m the eleven-year-old boy whom everyone has given this strange name called hypochondriac. I am usually the one who has to save Emm’s life when she forgets to read the label on food packages and almost eats sandwich meat that’s three weeks over the best-by date.

   Anyway, Emm eventually became such good friends with the old man and his creatures that when Mr. Aminal declared he could no longer keep Ballistic due to some reason like food costs or being cramped, Emm broke down and cried for two days. She was sure that Mr. Aminal was either going to kill the monkey or sell him to someone in a far-off land and she’d never see Ballistic again. But she was wrong. For lo and behold, on her eighth birthday, Mr. Aminal asked Mom and Dad permission to give Ballistic to her. I, of course, was entirely opposed to the idea. If we accepted his offer, Ballistic would probably stay in Emm’s bedroom. And Emm’s walk-through closet is connected to mine. I did not want to wake up in the morning to a furry creature staring down at my face from my headboard and contaminating my bed with its hair.

   I had fully expected my opinion to get brushed off with a “Oh, it’ll be fine, Jimmy.” That’s what people usually tell me whenever I express my completely rational concern about being sanitary. But for once, Mom did not reassure me like she usually did. Instead, she seemed to understand how I felt about the whole idea. 

  “I’m not sure I want a monkey under the same roof as me,” Mom told Dad when Mr. Aminal had given his proposal. 

   Well, when Mom said that, I wanted to leap for joy and throw my arms around her neck. But all that came crashing down when Dad replied that he wasn’t worried and that Mr. Aminal seemed to get along fine with the monkey without any problems.

   Without any problems! Yes, if you could call aiding in a man’s mental disorder not a problem. I know I may be going overboard with my fear for Mr. Aminal’s sanity, but really! Once I saw him letting his birds eat seed from his mouth!

   “But, Bill,” Mom had protested, “we’ve had many animals in this house. We’ve had dogs, cats, hamsters, parakeets, and about a thousand fish.” Here she looked at Emm pointedly before turning back to Dad. “But never a monkey, for goodness sake! What if it’s illegal?”

   “It’s not illegal,” Dad had responded patiently, “If it was, the authorities would have been to Mr. Aminal’s house about it long before now. He’s been living next door with his animals for over ten years with no issues. I’ll even look into it for you.”

   Mom wasn’t entirely happy with the idea, I could tell. But finally she gave in to Emm’s pleading and Dad and Mr. Aminal’s reassurances. “Oh well,” Mom sighed, “But I do not want to see that thing in my bedroom. And it absolutely, one hundred percent must stay out of the kitchen! I won’t be burglarized by our own pet!”

   “My pet, you mean,” Emm had corrected her, bouncing on the couch cushion. She couldn’t hide her elation at the prospect of having her very own monkey.

   So Mom and Dad graciously accepted Mr. Aminal’s offer. I just hung around and waited for Mr. Aminal to actually bring the monkey into the house. When the creature appeared at the door, he screeched his happiness and launched himself into Emm’s arms. My first instinct was to protect my little sister from Ballistic, but I couldn’t bring myself to approach the monkey to fend him off. So instead, I turned tail and disappeared down the hall and into my bedroom without so much as a how-do-you-do to Ballistic or a well-good-bye to Mr. Aminal.

   I cowered in my room while Emm got her new pet settled. Upon hearing his chattering in the room next to me, I crossed my arms over my chest and fervently hoped that monkeys can’t break through walls.

Signed,

Martha