Holy Enchilada Read Online Free

about her creepy, ugly, scaly, yucky lizard getting under my feet. But I was about to bring up an important subject with the parents, and this was not the time to pick a fight. So instead, I counted to five under my breath, then reached over and patted Katherine on the snout—even though what I really wanted to do was pound her into the rug.
    â€œAccidents happen, old girl,” I said. “I hope I didn’t hurt your cute crusty tail.”
    Emily’s jaw fell open so wide that I thought I was going to have to get a tow truck to haul it back up to her face.
    â€œWow, Hank. You were so sensitive to Kathy’s feelings,” she said.
    â€œHey, if a big brother can’t be nice to his sister’s iguana, then what’s the point of ...”
    I had no idea how to finish that sentence. I glanced at my parents out of the corner of my eye. My mom was smiling. She loves it when we get along. Even my dad looked up from his crossword puzzle for a second and gave me a little nod. Well, maybe little is too big to describe the nod. It was more of a slight eye twitch.
    â€œHere, Dad, let me pour you a cup of tea,” I said, jumping up.
    I poured some of the hot tea into his cup. Then I put my hands together in front of me, turned to him, and bowed. I poured my mom a cup of tea and bowed at her, too.
    â€œWhat’s with all the bowing?” Emily said. “Did you do a silent but deadly, or something?”
    â€œFor your information, I am performing the Japanese tea ceremony,” I told her.
    â€œWell, for your information, we happen to live in New York,” Emily said. “Not Japan.”
    â€œI thought it would be nice to practice for when Yoshi gets here,” I said.
    â€œYoshi who?” my dad asked, barely looking up from his crossword puzzle.
    â€œYoshi Morimoto.”
    â€œIsn’t that the Japanese chef on the cooking channel?” he asked. “Why would he want to stay here?”
    â€œHe doesn’t.”
    â€œBut you just said he did.”
    When my dad is in the middle of doing a crossword puzzle, he only listens with one ear, which means he only gets half of the conversation right.
    â€œDad, listen,” I said. “Cancel the whole Japanese chef thought. Yoshi Morimoto is a fourth-grade kid who’s coming to our school for Multi-Cultural Day. We, all of us, have been picked as his host family. He’s going to stay here for two nights later this week if it’s okay with you guys. And I just can’t imagine that you would turn down the educational experience of the century.”
    â€œIt’s a lovely idea, honey,” my mom said, “but I’m worried about the bathroom.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with the bathroom?” I asked.
    â€œIt needs new wallpaper, Hank. We can’t have a visitor from another country experience our peeling wallpaper.”
    See what I mean about parents? You think you know them, then at the last minute they come up with something weird and throw you a total curveball.
    â€œMom, the wallpaper is fine. We don’t have to change anything in our apartment. The whole point is for Yoshi to see how a typical American family lives. He’ll love it here.”
    â€œWhat do you think, Stan?” my mom asked my dad.
    â€œI could show the boy my collection of mechanical pencils,” my dad said. “I’ve got some pretty unique ones, you know.”
    â€œGreat idea, Dad,” I said. “I’ll bet he’s never seen that many mechanicals in one place before.”
    My dad nodded. He’s very proud of his mechanical pencils, which he calls his m.p.’s. He has a whole desk drawer full of them in every color and every metal known to mankind.
    â€œYou have to ask your sister how she feels about having a visitor, Hank,” my mom said. “It’s her house, too.”
    â€œI think it sounds like fun,” Emily said. “What do you think,