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want to stay right here and rot."
    "Well, go ahead," Bran said. "And when you’re through, you tell me how it feels."
    "Blah!" Balder pouted. "I want that new television, the Megamus Maximus! I want it, and I’ll run away if I don’t get it!"
    "Good luck," Bran said. "I heard they’re looking for underground mining boys up north."
    "I won’t be a mining boy, I won’t!" Balder said, kicking the sheets off. He had the same dark hair as Sewey, freckles around his nose, and he was as chubby as ever. In all their lives, Sewey
    and Mabel had never intended to make him the way he was, but it was just a plain and simple fact that he had turned out worse than a whole horde of selfish trolls.
    "I want the Megamus Maximus!" he squealed.
    "What about the one over there?" Bran pointed to the television dominating the far wall.
    "It’s old," Balder snapped. "And the new one is twelve hundred times bigger. I want it!" He kicked his piggy bank off the dresser, then pushed a lamp, threw three books, and finally slid out of bed.
    "You’re not going to watch television?" Bran asked with fake horror.
    "The thought!" Balder spluttered. "I’m going for the big one in the living room."
    "Baldretta’s got that one this week," Bran said, but Balder didn’t care.
    "I’ll just wrestle the bloody remote from her grubby little hands," he sneered.
    Bran shrugged and started to pick up Balder’s toys, preparing for the worst. It came eight seconds later.
    "I don’t want to watch Shink, Nok, and Foops! " Balder hollered from down the hall.
    Bran came to see what was up. Baldretta was in the living room, holding a bag of candy in her hands and sitting on the remote.
    "Why does she get the big screen?" Balder demanded, trying to knock her over. Baldretta had flowing brown hair, big brown eyes, and a pretty face that was usually stuffed with some sort of candy. She hadn’t yet begun to talk much, and thanks to her perpetual chewing, only the Wilomases could understand her when she did.
    "Mbwmbs buwithus," Baldretta smacked.
    "But I’m the oldest, you little monster," Balder argued. "I get dibs on the biggest screen!"
    "Mbwithis bwathis," Baldretta said, her lips moving in a circle as she chewed.
    "I am not, " Balder screamed. However, Baldretta seemed quite sure he was. Bran didn’t care to interrupt, so he left them there and started out to set the table. He nearly ran into Mabel in the kitchen.
    "Keep a distance!" she warned. "I found a trash can you forgot to empty last night."
    "I’m sorry, I happened to be on the roof most of the evening," Bran explained.
    "Don’t be snippy. You had best take it out now before rats come and we all get the Gray Plague and goodness knows what else."
    "Maybe leprosy?" Bran suggested.
    Mabel went pale. "I’ll have to dose up on some neoplytoplismo!" she choked, rushing for her medicine cabinet. Bran tied up the trash bag and started outside to add it to the pile next to the house.
    The morning was cool, and the sun hovered just above the horizon, covering the neighborhood with soft light. The grass glimmered with dew. One of the neighbors was driving off for work. Bran saw the Schweezer sitting on the curb, as if nothing at all had happened the night before. Mr. Swinehic was feeding the birds and waved at him.
    "Good morning, Bran!" he called, and Bran waved back as he started around the house. Mr. Swinehic threw another handful of seed and started toward him.
    "I picked up a lot of trash in my yard this morning," he told Bran as he came forward. "There was a lot in your yard too, so I just bagged it up with the rest."
    "What was it?" Bran asked, tossing the trash bag beside the house.
    Mr. Swinehic shrugged. "Couldn’t tell," he replied. "Looked like a bunch of bank forms: evictions, overdue letters…"
    Bran smiled but kept himself from laughing, remembering the night before. "Was it now?"
    "Yep," Mr. Swinehic nodded and shrugged. "All of them ripped in half the same. Except for that scrap of paper I