Kreative X-Pressions Publications

Chapter 1

Roscoe, My Twin Brother, Hates Me

Do you believe dinosaurs are real? I mean, like, today, right now! I’ll bet you’re wondering why I'm asking such a dumb question, right? Well, you ain’t gonna believe this but, one day a dinosaur followed me home! Yeah, a real dinosaur! Okay, so it wasn't one of those Tyrannosaurus Rex guys, because they don't follow kids home... they eat 'em! It was one of those vegetarian dinosaurs... the kind that eats leafy vegetables, like from trees and plants. But wait, let me start at the beginning because this gets real confusing.

Well, to begin with, I like animals. Normal ones, that is. I have a lot of inside pets like hamsters and goldfish and even a parakeet, but I can't have any outside animals like dogs or cats because the landlord won't allow it. When I was little I wanted to get a baby kangaroo. That's when we found out the landlord doesn't allow pets. I think he's afraid they'll mess up his lawn with do-do, which is a definite no-no. Imagine what he'd say if he stepped in kangaroo do-do?

Anyhow, I live in an apartment with my Mom and Dad and my kid brother, Roscoe, whom I hate even more than I hate rhubarb. Roscoe's two hours younger than I am and naturally Mom thinks he's an Angel right from Heaven. I'm always getting into trouble because every time Roscoe pulls one of his dirty tricks, I get blamed for it. It just isn't fair! For example, yesterday Roscoe put a snake in my goldfish tank and the snake ate Herman, one of my favorite goldfish. As soon as I noticed that Herman was missing and that the snake’s belly was fatter than usual, I told Mom. Like always, it was too late.

"But, Dennis," Mom yelled, "Roscoe said you put the snake in the tank."

"Roscoe's a lying little monster, Mom."

"How can you say that, Dennis? God never created any monsters."

"God didn't create Roscoe, Mom. The Devil made him and gave him an evil brain."

I didn't get punished that day but Mom made me take the snake out of the bowl. I let him loose in the woods in back of our house while Roscoe stood there and snickered. The snake was so full he could hardly crawl away. I'll bet he got a bad case of indigestion! And I hope Roscoe has another nightmare tonight. I guess Roscoe and I were just born to be mortal enemies. I was sure glad we weren't born identical twins!

One day I was looking through a science magazine. Roscoe was looking over my shoulder, as usual. Suddenly I came across a picture of a dinosaur.

"Do you believe in dinosaurs?" Roscoe asked me, snickering the way he always does.

"Of course, stupid, don't you?" I said, flipping the page.

"No," he said. "If there were dinosaurs, how come I never saw one?"

"Because they're extinct now, dummy!" Gosh, he was so dumb!

"Well, I just don't believe there ever was any," he said. "Look how big they are. If they were really that big, nothing could ever kill them and they'd still be around."

I got so disgusted with him I just picked up the magazine and popped him over the head with it. "Roscoe, I never knew anybody as stupid as you are," I said. "You make me ashamed to be your brother." After that I went right to my room because that's where Mom always sends me when I pop Roscoe. I laid across my bed and opened my magazine again and started reading about dinosaurs.

Once Roscoe makes up his mind about something, there isn't anybody alive that's gonna change it. Who cares if Roscoe believes in dinosaurs or not? I knew they were real once and so do all the scientists, so who cares about Roscoe anyhow? I mean, like, I didn't really care what he thought, okay? He wouldn't even believe Mom if she told him I was right... which she wouldn't anyhow. But it kept bothering me. How can Roscoe not believe in dinosaurs? Although I hated to admit it, it bothered me more than I wanted it to. I flipped through the pages trying to think of a way to prove to Roscoe that dinosaurs used to be real. But I couldn't come up with any ideas.

Later that night, as I was going to bed, Mom told me that hitting Roscoe with the magazine was simply the last straw and that she thought it would do us both good if Roscoe and me were to be separated from each other for awhile.

"Great, Mom!" I said. "How about letting him bunk down in the basement?" I was always coming up with original ideas.

"Definitely not, Dennis. The basement is unheated."

"But, Mom, haven't you ever heard Roscoe snore? I think he musta swallowed a bagpipe. It's plain awful!"

"Well, I was thinking more of sending you on vacation somewhere, Dennis."

"A vacation? Great, Mom. Can I go to the beach?"

"Well, I really can't afford a real vacation, Dennis."

Her answer confused me, so I said, "But, Mom... what other kind of vacation is there?"

She gave me a blank stare, then said, "Let me think about it, Dennis. Tomorrow I'll make a few phone calls."