Devious Devin

Cereal Surprise

noreply@blogger.com (Devin) — Fri, 26 Aug 2011 07:02:00 +0000

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I don’t know about you, but me and Wendell love sweet cereals like:

The only problem is that my mom has only been buying healthy cereals lately. So we have to add sugar ourselves if we want our cereal to be sweet.

This morning Wendell woke up and went straight to the kitchen. He got the Bland Flakes cereal from the cupboard. Wendell grabbed the sugar container. He began to pour the white crystals all over his cereal. But there was something he wasn’t aware of. You see, this morning before he got up, I emptied out the sugar container. I replaced the sugar with salt.

Wendell sat at the table with his bowl of cereal. He scooped a big spoonful into his mouth. He didn’t even begin to chew before he realized that it didn’t taste right. He scrunched his face and spewed it back into his bowl. “Eeeew! That’s nasty!” he said looking at me with a mean face. My smirk turned into a full blown, ear to ear smile.

“I didn’t do anything to your cereal. You’re the one who poured the salt into your own bowl of cereal,” I said as I began to laugh.

He said, “It’s not funny. What if I put salt in your cereal?”

“You even think to pull a prank like that on me,

and I’ll hold you down and scrub every inch of your body with sandpaper,

until you are as skinless as a skinned chicken breast.

Then I’ll pour salt on your wounded body,

and you’ll melt like a slug does when salt is poured on it.”

“Okay, okay, I wouldn’t do that to you,” said Wendell.

“Good. Now, don’t you ever think about threatening me again,” I told him.

“Hey, do slugs really melt when you pour salt on them?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” I replied.

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Postcard Prank

noreply@blogger.com (Devin) — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 07:13:00 +0000

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I was so excited when I checked the mail today. Augie had sent me a postcard. It had a picture of a zebra on the front. On the back it said:

“Hey, Wendell!” I yelled. Wendell came.

“I got a postcard in the mail from Augie. It says the money inside is for you.”

Wendell’s eyes lit up. He took the postcard from me. He studied it. He flipped it over. Then again. He turned it sideways and examined the edges, trying to figure out a way to open it. I watched him for a few moments as he tried to figure out how to get money out of the postcard. It was very entertaining.

When he looked like he was going tear a corner off, I couldn’t hold my laughter in any longer. My laughter burst out the way air does when someone sits on a whoopee cushion. Wendell finally realized that it was a prank. I have to admit that was the funniest postcard I’ve ever gotten! I’m glad Augie could contribute from all those miles away.

It reminded me of the time when I wrote on both sides of a paper:

When I gave it to Wendell, he read the paper. He turned it over. Read the other side. Turned it over. Read it again. Flipped it over again. This went on for a while. I was wondering how long he was going to keep flipping the paper over and over again. Then I started laughing. Wendell realized that I was laughing at him, so he stopped flipping the paper.

I told him, “The paper is your prize. It will give you something to do when you’re bored.” I could tell he was disappointed. That made me smile.

Chutes 'n Splatters

noreply@blogger.com (Devin) — Mon, 15 Nov 2010 07:26:00 +0000

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When my parents bought a new freezer for the garage, it came in a huge cardboard box. Wendell and I made it into a fort.

One day we went to our bedroom and noticed that the fort had been tagged. When we turned around, Lynette stood there laughing.

Wendell and I tore the thing down, so there was all this cardboard sitting out in our garage. I figured out the perfect use for it.

After Wendell went to sleep last night, I used the cardboard to turn our stairs into a slide. You see, our room is the first door at the top of the stairs. I wanted to see if I could get Wendell to fall down the stairs and slide to the bottom.

I rested a bucket of marbles on the ledge above our bedroom door, hoping that the marbles would fall near his feet and cause him to lose his balance. He would then land on a slick nylon sleeping bag placed at the top of the stairs. The sleeping bag would carry him to the bottom of the stairs into a wading pool filled with ice cold water.

Once the trap was set, I just had to wait for him to wake up. After about a minute had passed, I got tired of waiting. That’s when I began throwing marbles at our bedroom door. I heard him get up.

The door swung open as marbles landed on the wooden floor with a loud CRASH and the bucket went over Wendell’s head.

I waited for a second to see if he would lose his balance from walking on the marbles, but he didn’t, so I decided to push him down onto the nylon sleeping bag. His instincts must have kicked in because he grabbed me just as I gave him a shove. I fell on top of him. He grunted, “Oof!” We sailed down the cardboard slide trying to grab onto anything that we could, but nothing could stop us. We were sliding too fast.

We plunged headfirst into the icy waters of the wading pool. We both flailed to get out of the freezing water. As I looked up, I saw my sister, Lynette, standing there. She asked with a smirk on her face:

I said, “Nothin’. What do you think?”

She responded, “I think you’re pathetic.” And walked away with her nose in the air.

And I felt pretty pathetic sopping wet in a wading pool. I was at a loss for words that my trap had backfired on me. I looked at the slide that still said “NERD HOUSE” and suddenly felt like I was picking on the wrong sibling.

Then Wendell said, “Hey, let’s do it again.”

“Huh?” I replied.

“Let’s slide down the stairs on the sleeping bag,” he said, “without the pool at the bottom this time. C’mon that was fun. Let’s do it again.”

It sounded to me like a slick idea, so we spent the rest of the morning sliding down the cardboard with the sleeping bag. We took turns pushing each other, and we even went down together a few times.

Although I was having fun, I was still upset that the trap didn’t go as I had planned. I didn’t like getting all soaked when I didn’t want to, and I definitely didn’t like it when my sister called me “pathetic”. I don’t really know what “pathetic” means, but it didn’t sound very nice. I thought to myself, “She’s going to eat those words.”

So I had a little talk with Wendell. “Ya know, Lynette thinks she’s all that. She has no respect for us. What I’m trying to say is that I want you on my team from now on, no strings attached. Together we’ll get her back for tagging our fort, calling us pathetic, and all the other ways she acts like she’s better than us. We’ll show her…and her dorky boyfriend while we’re at it.”

Wendell’s eyes lit up, “That will be awesome! You’re the best brother in the whole wide world!”

His reaction made me feel proud, but I didn’t want him to know, so I said, “Cool it before I change my mind.”

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Faux Poo Prank

noreply@blogger.com (Devin) — Sun, 07 Nov 2010 05:53:00 +0000

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This was probably the dirtiest trick I’ve ever tried. Wendell made fake potting soil by crushing up Oregon-O cookies in a plastic bag, and I shaped leftover brownies with my bare hands. “That looks disgusting!” Wendell said as I formed walnut brownies into the shape of dog poo.

Once the raw materials were in place, Wendell and I sat in the front yard talking about how we were going to pull off this prank. I spotted Arthur’s sporty little car turning the corner, heading our way. “Here he comes!” I warned.

Arthur stepped out of his car. “Hey, Arthur, will you get sick if you eat dirt?” I asked.

“Why do you ask?” replied Arthur.

“Well, Wendell ate a worm the other day, and now he’s eating dirt from the flowerbed.”

“Gross! Why is he doing that?”

“I dared him. I don’t think there’s anything he wouldn’t eat on a dare.”

“Hey, Wendell. Looks like the neighbor’s dog pooped in our yard again. I dare you to lick it.”

Wendell looked at me. “You’re going to have to pay me if you want me to lick the dog poo.”

“I double dog poo dare you.” I said.

Wendell hesitated, “Sure, I’ll do it for twenty bucks. But how are you going to get the other ten, if ten is all you have?”

I looked over at Arthur. “Will you pitch in ten bucks to see him lick the dog poo?”

“He’s full of it. He won’t do it. Sure I’ll pay ten…I’ll pay twenty to see it. Think about it, that poo came out of a dog’s butt. That’s stinkin’ nasty!”

Wendell got on his hands and knees and put his face down close to the poo. “Eeew, it stinks really bad. It must be fresh.” Just as he stuck out his tongue, I made an impromptu change in our plan. I got down on the grass next to Wendell, and shoved his face right into the dog poo.

Wendell looked up at me with an angry, poo smudged look on his face. Then he picked up the poo, threw it at me, and hit me in the forehead.

That upset me, so I picked up the poo, ran at him and tackled him on the grass. Then I pinned him down with his arms under my knees and said:

“No! No! No!” he cried as I shoved a piece in his mouth and covered his mouth with my hand.

“I won’t let you up until you swallow it. You’d better swallow it and get it over with or I’ll shove it down your throat with my fist!”

Wendell chewed and swallowed the poo. I got up off of him and said, “Now we’re even. Don’t you ever throw poo at me again.”

Wendell got up and looked at me with puppy dog eyes, “Do I get the money now?”

I said, “Yeah, I think you earned it this time. My money’s in the house.” Then we both looked at Arthur, who hadn’t said a word the whole time. He had a stunned look on his face. And sure enough, he paid Wendell the cash, and then went inside the house to tell Lynette about the whole ordeal.

I asked Wendell, “How did the brownies taste?”

“Not bad. I didn’t know you were going to shove my face into it and force me to eat it.”

“Way to roll with it. You did great, bro. Now how do you want to spend the twenty bucks Arthur gave us?”

I have to say, Wendell and I make a doggone good team. He’s becoming less of a foe, and that is not a faux statement.

Bucket of "Acid"

noreply@blogger.com (Devin) — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 04:29:00 +0000

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One of my chores for today was to mop the kitchen. That reminded me of one of the booby traps me and Augie thought up. I filled a bucket about half full of soapy water and stood on the kitchen countertop. I yelled, “Wendell, come here quick. I need your help!”

Sure enough, he came running, “What?”

“Grab the mop and hold the handle up to the bottom of the bucket.”

I held the bucket so that its top was up against the ceiling. Once the mop was in place, I slowly let go of the bucket.

“You got it?” I asked.

“Yeah, but why am I doing this?”

I got down from the counter and said, “‘Cause now you’re trapped. You let go, and the bucket falls.”

“I’m never going to help you again! What’s in the bucket?”

“It’s full of battery acid that will eat through your flesh, all the way to the bone, so you’d better not let go.”

I grabbed the feather duster and began to tickle him.

He yelled, “Stop it! Help me! I’m going to drop it! Stop, you meanie!”

Just then I heard footsteps. I thought it was probably Lynette. Around the corner came Lynette’s boyfriend, Arthur.

“What’s going on in here?” he inquired.

“Wendell wants to show you something,” I said.

I went behind Wendell, and yanked his shorts down to his ankles. He stood there for a moment, sporting his superhero briefs. Wendell’s face turned red.

Not knowing what to do, he dropped the mop. Arthur stood there watching silently. Down came the bucket, hitting Wendell on the head, sending soapy water all over the kitchen floor, soaking Wendell.

He fell to the floor, pulled his shorts back up, then started kicking and squirming.

“Ahhhh! It’s eating me alive!” he cried.

“I’ll save you with this magic powder!” I said as I grabbed a fistful of flour from the container on the counter. I began throwing handfuls of flour at Wendell.

Once he was covered head to toe with the flour, I said, “Go quickly! Get in the shower!”

He kicked the bucket stumbling out of the kitchen, ran around the corner, then I heard Lynette shriek like she had just seen a ghost. He just about knocked her down on the way to the bathroom.

Lynette rounded the corner and asked, “What’s going on in here? What’s that white stuff all over Wendell and why is it all over the floor?”

I responded, “Mom told me that I had to mop the kitchen. Wendell was helping me. That’s all. Don’t worry about it. I need to go talk to him, then I’ll be right back to finish.”

I replied, “First of all, you’re the one who’s in hot water. You’re the one who dropped the bucket and got acid all over the kitchen floor. I’m the one who saved you by throwing magic powder on you. You should be grateful that I saved your life. Secondly, I will clean up the mess all by myself if you don’t tell Mom and Dad. Also, I will let you help out with a prank on Arthur.”

Wendell thought for a second and then said, “Was that really acid in the bucket?”

“No, you moron. Just soapy water. Do we have a deal?”

“Okay, but if you pull another prank like that on me again, I WILL tell on you.”

I said, “Whatever. I’m going to mop the kitchen floor. I’ll talk to you later.”

&amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Loading...&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;gt;

Zip Line Knock Out

noreply@blogger.com (Devin) — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 05:44:00 +0000

(Use the audio player below to listen to this post.)

I needed a little luck and things to line up just right to pull this one off. I made a zip line that ran from a branch high up in a tree down to the ground. I connected a full sized punching bag to the line and set it up in the tree. I would lure Wendell in using a piñata as the bait.

In 5^th grade my teacher had the class make paper-mâché globes. I still had mine. I cut a small hole in it and filled it with some polished rocks that I found. Now it was a piñata.

I approached Wendell holding the piñata. “Hey brother, you wanna practice hitting a piñata? You’ll be the star of every birthday party with a little practice.”

“You’re gonna let me break your globe? Is there candy inside?” he asked.

“Sure. Let’s go outside. Here’s the baseball bat. Oh yeah, let me put the blindfold on you. Come on.”

I guided Wendell out to our backyard where the zip line was set up. “I only have one shot at this, so I’d better get it right the first time,” I told myself.

“Okay, the piñata is right in front of you,” I told him as I pulled the twine that sent the trap into motion.

The punching bag sped down the zip line faster than I thought it would.

“You missed!” I taunted my little brother. “You’re supposed to HIT the piñata, not GET HIT!”

“Aw, gasp, ow,” he grunted as he sat up, stunned, taking off his blindfold unable to speak.

“You’re supposed to SENSE oncoming danger. It’s part of the training for EVERY piñata hitting pro,” I told him.

He stood up holding the baseball bat. “I’m gonna hit you!”

I said: “You come near me with that bat

and I will pound on your head

until your brains turn to mush,

and you’ll be a vegetable

that stares at the TV

like a couch potato

for the rest of your life…

Besides, I didn’t hurt you. It was the punching bag. Take out your anger on it.”

Wendell suddenly began to swing the bat ferociously at the punching bag as I cheered him on.

He spotted the piñata on the ground and went over and beat it with the bat until he saw what was inside.

I said, “Haven’t you heard of rock candy? It looks like rocks, but it’s really candy. Try one.”

He put a rock in his mouth and tried to bite into it. “Ah! It’s as hard as a rock!” he said spitting it into his hand.

I replied, “That’s why they call it rock candy. It’s hard, but if you suck on it long enough you will get to the candy filling in the middle.”

He put it back in his mouth. I wondered how long he would suck on the rock.

Then I had an idea. I said, “Let’s see if the bag will hold your weight.”

It worked. Wendell and I took turns climbing up the tree and riding down the zip line while bear-hugging the punching bag.

After about my fourth turn, our luck ran out. The line broke. I fell from pretty high up. If the punching bag wouldn’t have broken my fall, I probably would’ve bit the dust. But since I landed on the bag, I just had the wind knocked out of me. I guess it was my lucky day.

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Figurative Language

Devin tells Wendell, “You’ll be the star of every birthday party.” A star is a ball of burning gases in outer space, but Devin is using the word to mean “a popular person”. Devin will be a star if he hits a replica of the Earth. The rays from a star we call the sun hit the planet Earth every day.

Army Guy Carousel

noreply@blogger.com (Devin) — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 04:05:00 +0000

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I promised to let Wendell in on my next booby trap, so we decided to target our sister’s boyfriend, Arthur.

My big sister Lynette is fifteen years old. She is a teenager, but she acts pretty much like an adult. She’s only been going out with Arthur for a couple of weeks, but they act like they’ve already tied the knot. Arthur’s the perfect target because he won’t do anything to us that would make a bad impression on Lynette.

I said, “Remember when we went to the fair and they had a ride that was a like a carousel, but with swings instead of horses? That’s what we’re going to do with your army guys.”

I could tell that Wendell didn’t understand what I was talking about, so I demonstrated on him.

“Ow! What'd you do that for?” he said.

“I'm tryin’ to show you what’s gonna happen to Arthur when he walks into the room.”

“Ok, I get it. You didn't have to hit me, though!”

“Relax brother. I was just horsing around.”

When the trap was set, I whispered to Wendell, “Now we just turn off the lights and wait. Our victim won’t be able to get to the light switch without walking into the trap. With how dark it is in here, he won’t know what hit him.”

My parents were in their bedroom. Arthur was in Lynette’s room. I figured that my parents had probably already gone to bed. Arthur would be coming out at any moment. He isn’t allowed to stay at our house past 10:00. It was already 10:15. Wendell and I were hiding in the kitchen with our eyes slightly above the kitchen counter, watching and waiting. All was quiet but the sound of Army guys whooshing through the air.

Then there was the sound of a door opening. I admit that I got a little nervous waiting for what would happen next. Then it happened. Whap! Smack! Blam! Whack! Suddenly the Army guys were pummeling their target. We heard gasps and grunts. Finally the light switch came on.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. The victim our booby trap was Dad! My excitement turned into fear as I panicked, not knowing what to do.

I knew the best thing to do was to come out of hiding with my ally. “Dad,” I said, “We didn’t mean to get you. We’re sorry.”

“Then who were you trying to get?” he asked.

“Arthur,” responded Wendell.

“Is he still here? It’s past 10:00. He’d better not be,” said Dad as he dodged the slowing Army guys and barged into Lynette’s room.

Moments later Arthur scurried out, not making eye contact with Wendell and me. I don’t know what was going on in there, but it sounded like Dad was not happy with Lynette and Arthur. All I know is that Dad seemed to forget all about being whacked in the head with Wendell’s Army guys. And that’s all I cared about.

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Pit of Doom

noreply@blogger.com (Devin) — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 06:11:00 +0000

(Use the audio player below to listen to this post.)

I named this trap the pit of doom. The name should tell you that I needed a pit for this one. I have a really big backyard, so it wasn’t too hard to find a good place to dig a hole. Digging a hole was a lot of work. I kept it interesting by counting all the worms I came across. I put a couple of them in a container for later.

Eventually the pit was so deep that it was difficult to climb out of. As soon as I climbed out of the hole, I saw my little brother Wendell approaching. He asked, “What’cha doin’?”

I said: “I’m digging a hole to China, so you’d better stay away

or I’ll push you in and you’ll end up in

China

and the Chinamen will get mad at you for trespassing,

so they’ll do Chinese water torture on you.

They’ll drip water on your forehead hour after hour,

day after day, until the water bores a hole in your head.

Then they’ll put a straw in the hole and try to suck out

your brains, but they won’t find any brains!”

“Quit being mean, Devin! I just came to tell you that Mom is making us lunch.”

When I got to the house, my mom had just finished making ham and cheese sandwiches. I said, “Thanks Mom, I’ll take Wendell’s sandwich to him.” It was the perfect opportunity to open up my can of worms.

When I gave Wendell his sandwich, I watched him carefully as he ate. He took a bite. Then another. I was wondering if he had noticed anything strange about his sandwich. Wendell looked over at me and noticed that I was staring at him.

Wendell looked down at his ham sandwich. He noticed a half-eaten worm wriggling from where he had just taken a bite. His face turned a greenish color like the face of that ugly cartoon ogre, Shlep. He knew right away that I had put the worm in his sandwich due to the fact that I was rolling on the ground laughing.

As soon as I heard him yell, I ran out the backdoor as fast as I could. When I got to where my pit was, I jumped in and hid. I sat quietly for a few minutes until I knew it was safe to come out.

I took some sticks from a nearby tree branch and sharpened the ends with my pocket knife. I stuck the spikes in the bottom of my pit pointing straight up. I put some longer sticks over the top of the hole and covered them with leaves, grass, and a few smaller sticks. My booby trap was set. Time to find Wendell…

I ran up to the house and saw Wendell inside playing with his army guys. I pounded on the window and made a face at him, then ran toward the pit and hid behind a bush. Wendell came outside and yelled, “You’re in big trouble, Devin!”

I yelled back, “What, worm breath? I can’t hear you!”

“Where are you?” he shouted.

“Woo! Hoo!” I exclaimed. It worked! I ran over to the pit to check out the damage.

I looked down at my pitiful little brother and taunted him, “Gotcha, ya little worm-eater! What’cha gonna do now? Huh?”

He looked up at me stunned. He stood up speechless for a moment, then finally said, “That kinda hurt. Now help me get out. Mom’s gonna kill you when I tell her what you’ve done to me!”

“That’s why I’m not going to help you out.

I’m going to leave you in here,

and nobody will find you.

Days will go by,

and you’ll be cold and lonely.

You’ll starve to death,

and vultures will come and peck out your eyes…”

“Stop it, Devin!” he interrupted.

“Okay. Here’s the deal,” I said. “I’ll let you out of the pit if you promise to tell Mom we’ve made up, and tell her not to punish me for putting a worm in your sandwich. If you do that, I’ll let you in on my next booby trap.”

“Really?” he said. “You’ll let me in on your next trap?”

“Sure,” I replied, “but you have to convince mom to let me off the hook about the worm incident. And don’t tell her about the pit.”

We spit shook as I reached down and helped Wendell climb out of the pit.

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