The Day of the Iguana by Henry Winkler Page A

you’ve seen nineteen iguanas born, the twentieth is pretty much ... like ... you know ... the nineteenth. Or the eighteenth, for that matter.
    We watched in silence some more. The iguana’s snout was showing itself, but he was taking a rest before busting all the way out of the egg. It’s hard work, getting born.
    â€œSo tell me, Hank,” Tom said. “Why did you take the cable box apart in the first place?”
    I told him the whole story about how I tried to tape the movie for Frankie and how I screwed up.
    â€œWhat movie was it?” he asked.
    â€œ The Mutant Moth That Ate Toledo .”
    â€œOh man, that’s a classic,” he said.
    â€œSo they say,” I said. “It’s not out on video, and they only play it on TV once a year. My best friend has been waiting to see it his whole life. Now he’ll have to wait three hundred and sixty-three more days, thanks to me.”
    â€œHank, look at me,” Tom said. “What do you see?”
    â€œA guy.” I shrugged.
    â€œA guy who what?”
    â€œA guy who knows a lot about iguanas,” I said.
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd who works for a cable company.”
    â€œBingo,” said Tom. “Hank, I am a cable guy. We carried The Mutant Moth That Ate Toledo on our system. Which means I can get you a tape.”
    I jumped out of my seat, almost out of my skin.
    â€œThat is unbelievable,” I screamed. I shouted so loud that I scared the little iguana back into its egg.
    â€œSorry, fella,” I said, “but you don’t know how exciting this is.” I went back to my whispering voice. “You can really get me a copy?”
    â€œSure,” Tom said.
    â€œBut I can’t pay you,” I said. “I only get four dollars and fifty cents a week allowance, and I have to pay everyone back for the new cable box.”
    â€œI have a better idea,” Tom said. “I’ll make you a trade.”
    â€œWhat do I have that you would want?” I said. I thought about it. “Oh, I do have a triple size cat’s-eye marble. That’s pretty cool.”
    Tom looked down at the little iguana popping out of the egg. “I wouldn’t mind having him.”
    â€œWould that be okay, Mom?” I asked.
    â€œIt certainly would be,” she answered. “We have twenty-two other iguanas to find homes for. I think little Spencer there would be happy to go with Tom.”
    â€œActually, Mrs. Zipzer, I was thinking of naming him Sylvester,” said Tom.
    I got a washcloth from the bathroom to wrap little Sylvester up in so he’d be comfortable on the way to his new home. It was a Spider-Man washcloth, which I thought Sylvester would like. Tom picked him up and wrapped him gently in it. That little iggie seemed happy as a bug in a rug.
    Sylvester was going to get the best home an iguana could have. And I was going to get a personal copy of the best horror movie ever made.
    A mutant moth for a baby iguana. That’s what I call a good trade.

CHAPTER 26
    TOM BROUGHT ME THE TAPE, and I invited Frankie to sleep over on the weekend. I didn’t mention the movie.
    I was so excited! I could hardly wait for Saturday night. I put the tape in a secret place to make sure Frankie didn’t see it. I hid it in my third drawer, under my Mets sweatshirt. Then I got worried that I’d forget where the secret place was, so I wrote notes to myself on Post-Its. But I had to write them in code so Frankie wouldn’t figure out what I’d planned for him.
    I drew a baseball bat and wrote “Mets Rule” on all the notes. I put one on my clock radio, and one on the mirror in the bathroom, and one on the chart above my desk. When Frankie came over, he looked around and said, “What’s with all the Mets stuff?”
    â€œThey’re reminders,” I said.
    â€œOf what? That the Mets suck?”
    â€œNo, of where I hid ...”
    â€œHid what?” Frankie