The Zippity Zinger #4 by Henry Winkler Read Free Book Online Page B

stand up and turn my back and then see where the short pinky finger is. Yup, she was on my mom’s left.
    Emily put Katherine down on the middle of the table.
    â€œWho invited the lizard to our family meeting?” I asked.
    Katherine must have known that I was talking about her, because she stared at me with her beady little eyes and then stuck her tongue out at me, as if to say, “I’m here, what do you want to do about it, Zipper Boy?”
    â€œI don’t see why we need a family meeting,” Emily began. “The creep took my socks. They’re my socks, not his socks.”
    â€œHank, your turn to express yourself,” said my mom. She believes in expressing yourself.
    â€œI didn’t take her socks,” I said. “They must have known I needed them and they wound up on my feet. All I’m asking is to wear them for one day and one day only. Not even a day. Just for two hours during the Olympiad softball game. I don’t see why that’s such a problem.”
    â€œBecause those are the same two hours that I’m participating in the Brain Buster Competition. And I need my lucky socks to lead the team on to victory.”
    â€œWhat about my victory in the softball game?”
    â€œWhat victory is that?” Emily the Perfect said. “It would take more than monkey socks to get you to do anything right.”
    â€œThat’s enough, you two,” my dad said. “First, let me say that I don’t believe monkey socks bring luck.”
    â€œOf course,” my mom chimed in. “We all know there’s no such thing as a lucky charm.”
    â€œAlthough,” my dad said, “I do have a silver mechanical pencil, the one I got for being a six-year subscriber to TIME magazine. And I do seem to complete my crossword puzzles faster with that particular pencil.”
    â€œStanley, this isn’t about your crossword puzzles,” my mom pointed out.
    â€œYou’re right, Randi,” he agreed, running his hands through his hair, which was already in its usual messy condition.
    â€œTrust me, Dad,” I pleaded. “I need them more than I’ve ever needed anything in my whole life.”
    â€œNot as much as I need them,” said Emily.
    My dad held up his hand, letting us both know that we were to stop talking. He looked out at us over the top of his glasses the way he does when he’s thinking of an especially hard word in his crossword puzzle.
    â€œWell,” he began, “since we’re talking about a PAIR of socks, a very clear solution presents itself. There are two children in this family. There are two socks in a pair. We are one family, and one for all and all for one. Are you following my line of thinking?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “You lost me after ‘Well’.”
    â€œAll right, let me try this,” he continued. “Two kids. Two socks. Two divided by two is what?”
    â€œHow should I know, Dad?” This conversation was driving me crazy. “Check back with me after sixth grade. Maybe I’ll know division by then.”
    â€œTwo divided by two is one,” said Emily. I looked at Katherine, and I know this sounds weird, but she shot me a look as if to say, “Even I knew that, dodo brain.”
    I couldn’t say this out loud, but I was wondering if I could be dumber than a lizard?
    â€œStanley, that’s a wonderful solution,” my mom said. “Each of the children gets one sock.”
    â€œIt won’t work,” said Emily the Cheerful.
    â€œLet’s put it to a test,” said my dad.
    My mom was holding the socks that she had scooped up from the hallway where Emily tossed them in her hissy fit. She handed one to each of us. Emily put hers on her left foot. Or maybe it was her right foot. I could do the short pinky finger thing again, but you’d probably stop reading, so let’s just say she put it on a foot.
    I was a little nervous,