The Day of the Iguana by Henry Winkler Page B

wanted to know.
    I bit my lip really hard. That secret wanted to come out so bad. I was dying to tell him, but that would ruin the surprise.
    Somehow, I made it until Saturday. My parents were going out and Papa Pete was staying with us. He and I put together a great plan.
    We set up sleeping bags in the living room, right in front of the TV. Emily was in her room making little cots out of construction paper and toothpicks for all twenty-two baby iguanas. She had come up with a way to make pillows out of cotton balls. That would keep her busy all night. Besides, horror movies were not her cup of chocolate milk.
    When Frankie got there, Papa Pete made us pastrami sandwiches with brown mustard on seedless rye. Put a crunchy pickle next to that and you can’t beat it.
    After dinner, it was time for the main event.
    â€œYou boys get comfortable in your sleeping bags, and I’ll put on a movie,” Papa Pete said. “I picked out something that I’m comfortable with you watching while I’m on duty.” He winked at me.
    He handed me a videotape box. I slid the tape out, and handed the cover to Frankie.
    â€œThe Parent Trap?” Frankie said. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
    It was all I could do to keep from bursting out laughing.
    â€œTry it,” Papa Pete said.
    â€œI’ll hate it,” groaned Frankie.
    â€œFor years, I wouldn’t eat raisins,” said Papa Pete. “I thought anything that looks that bad has got to taste bad, too. Then one day, I put some on my cereal. And now, I wouldn’t think of starting my day without them.”
    â€œPapa Pete,” said Frankie. “That’s raisins. We’re talking about a movie that eight-year-old girls love. How can you compare the two?”
    â€œI watched The Parent Trap with Emily a couple weeks ago,” I said, trying as hard as I could to keep a straight face. “The part where the parents kiss is pretty interesting.”
    â€œZip, I think your brains have fallen out and turned into marshmallows,” Frankie said.
    â€œJust put the tape in,” said Papa Pete. “No violence, no naked ladies, good family fun.”
    â€œI’m going to be sick,” Frankie said. “Correction. I am sick.”
    â€œEnjoy yourselves, gentlemen,” Papa Pete said and he went into the kitchen.
    I couldn’t look at Frankie. Slowly, I moved my finger toward the PLAY button and pressed it. Then I hurled myself across the room onto my sleeping bag. I tried to watch the screen, but I kept one eye on Frankie to see his reaction.
    The music came up and the picture came on. It was a deserted cabin in the wilderness. A window was broken and the night was dark. Too dark.
    â€œHey, this doesn’t look like The Parent Trap,” Frankie said.
    All of a sudden, a giant moth came flying out of the shattered window of the cabin and filled the screen. Its eyes glowed red. It spread its wings and the title came up across them. THE MUTANT MOTH THAT ATE TOLEDO.
    Frankie sat straight up in his sleeping bag.
    â€œNo way!” he said. “No way!”
    This was truly one of the happiest moments of my life.
    â€œZip!” Frankie said. He was so excited he couldn’t even put together a sentence. “You ... moth ... here ... now ... No way! NO WAY!”
    Papa Pete had opened the kitchen door a slice. He was smiling. I was smiling. Frankie was smiling.
    â€œHow did you do this, Zipola?” Frankie asked.
    â€œI made a promise to you, and I messed up. I had to fix it.”
    â€œWell, you can mess up as much as you want if this is the way it ends up,” Frankie said. “This is so cool I don’t know what to say!”
    â€œThat’s good,” I said. “Because you’re not supposed to talk during a movie.”
    Papa Pete pushed the door all the way open and brought in a bowl filled with an assortment of ice cream bars. He sat down on the couch and the three of