Charlie Bumpers vs. the Perfect Little Turkey Read Free

and—”
    “It’s not best for
me!
” I said.
    “Calm down, Charlie,” Dad said. “It’s going to be okay. It’s only for a couple of nights.”
    “It’s going to be okay, Charlie,” the Squid said, copying my dad. “That’s spelled with an
o
and a
k
.”
    My whole family was teaming up against me. They were going to have a great Thanksgiving, and I was going to have to put up with that doofy little turkey! I folded my arms and stared down at the floor. Ginger came up and rested her chin on my lap.
    “No pouting at the table,” Matt said.
    “Matt,” Dad warned.
    I glared at Matt. “When I write my definition for family, I’m just putting in Ginger and no one else. No brothers and sisters. And especially no cousins.”
    It was quiet at the table. I knew my parents didn’t like what I’d said.
    “I’m your sister,” the Squid announced, “no matter what.”
    “How unfortunate,” I muttered.
    “That’s enough, Charlie,” Dad said.
    “I’d like to be excused, please.” I figured I’d better leave before I got really mad.
    Dad nodded.
    I got up and headed to my room.
    “I’m still your sister!” the Squid shouted. “But I’m not putting your dish in the sink!”

4
My Dumb Family
    I stomped up the stairs and down the hall to my room.
    My
messy
room. The Squid was right. It was a disaster area. Again. There were clothes and toys on the floor and stuff piled on my chair and desk and an unfinished puzzle in the corner, lying next to a plate with the crust from a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on it. I had to climb over my backpack and schoolbooks to get to my bed.
    And now I had to do my dumb homework, which included writing about my dumb family.
    But first I had to clear off my desk. I had beenworking on a model of Buck Meson’s Transport Module, which takes him to distant planets (like Earth). It was amazingly cool and looked just like the one on the show. My dad had helped with the hard parts and it was almost done. It was the only thing in the room that wasn’t messy. I picked it up and placed it carefully on my dresser.
    I pushed everything on my desk to the side and pulled my notebook out of my backpack.
    I did my math. Multiplication.
    Then my social studies. Abraham Lincoln.
    The only thing left was my definition of family. My family.
    I stared at the paper and thought about Matt and the Squid and what had happened at dinner and having to clean up my room. And about Chip.
    I didn’t want to write anything.
    “What are you doing?”
    I looked around. The Squid was standing in my doorway.
    “My homework,” I said. “Go away.”
    “Are you still mad?”
    “Yes, I’m still mad.”
    She came in anyway. She picked up the box that the Buck Meson Transport Module had come in. “Hey, look! It says
B-u-c-k,
Buck. I can read this! Buck Meson!”
    “Out!” I shouted.
    My mom opened the door wide and took the Squid by the shoulders. “Come on, Mabel. Leave Charlie alone.”
    “But I was just asking,” she said. “I don’t want him to be mad. And besides, now I can read ‘Buck Meson.’”
    “Good. Go put on your pajamas,” Mom said.
    “Grouch monster,” the Squid said to me.
    I made a face at her as she went out the door.
    “Charlie,” Mom said, “I’m sorry that you have to share your room, but even if you’re mad, there’s no reason to say what you said about Matt and Mabel.”
    “There’s every reason!” I said. “They always gang up against me.”
    “You’re just tired and upset right now. Put your homework in your pack and get ready for bed.”
    “I’m not done.” I still had to write the dumb definition.
    “You can have fifteen more minutes,” she said as she left. “But then it’s lights out.”
    Staring at the blank paper, I still couldn’t think of anything to write. I glanced over at the Buck Meson Transport Module and thought about the TV special. I could hardly wait.
    Matt stuck his head in the door. “Still pouting?” he asked.
    “Get