Snakes Don't Miss Their Mothers Read Online Free

own sheet of dialogue.
    â€œReady?” a woman shouted from the shadows.
    â€œReady!” the boy shouted back.
    â€œGo!”
    GIRL : I’m Jane. I wasn’t always a brain.
    BOY : I remember. You thought Cuba was in Brazil.
    GIRL : Now I know that Cuba is in the Caribbean Sea and its capital is Havana; population, eleven million; currency, peso; area, forty-three thousand square miles.
    BOY : Excuse me, Jane, but have you been Brainstorming geography?
    GIRL : Geography, history, French, Spanish. Name any subject, Art Smart, and I bet I’ve Brainstormed it.
    BOY : How about Buddhism, Jane?
    GIRL : A yogin is one who practices mental training or discipline. Eh ma! is a Tibetan exclamation of astonishment or wonder.
    BOY : Eh ma, Jane. I’m impressed.
    GIRL : In one short month I have managed to impress Art Smart. You can impress people too. You can buy the Brainstorm books, or learn from the Brainstorm tapes. However you choose to do it, you’re going to like yourself.
    BOY : You’re going to like being a brain.
    Ms. Fondaloot was waiting by the door, holding Jimmie’s coat for her, telling her not to bother with her boots, there wasn’t time.
    â€œWe have a car waiting,” she said. “We’ll just make it to Radio City.”
    Inside the car there was silence for some seconds, and then Ms. Fondaloot sucked her breath in with a slight ssssss sound, signaling that she was fighting to control her appalling temper.
    Her voice was low and restrained as she said, “I wish you hadn’t spoken out of turn. I wish you hadn’t said ‘consensus of opinion.’”

7
“What Do You Bet?”
    â€œI T’S FIVE O’CLOCK CHRISTMAS Eve,” said Goldie triumphantly. “We’re closed for the holiday now, and there’s no sign of Placido!”
    â€œThere’s no sign of our Christmas stockings either,” said Catherine. “I have my heart set on those lamb-and-rice sticks. Yum, yum.”
    Irving said, “They’re coming. I can see Mrs. Splinter out at the desk sorting them.”
    â€œJust a minute, Catherine,” said Goldie. “Remember our bet. I get mine and yours, too.”
    â€œIt’s only Christmas Eve. You don’t get my stocking until the stroke of midnight on Christmas. Placido will surely be back by then.”
    â€œYou are a sore loser, Catherine,” said Goldie. “I heard that no one comes here on Christmas Day but Walter and the volunteer walkers. So far Placido has made it! He has a home, at least he does for Christmas.”
    â€œThe man who took him will probably leave him at the door in that tawdry carrying case. Critters doesn’t have to be open to have Placido returned. Desperate people come up with desperate solutions.”
    Irving gave a sharp bark. “Be fair, Catherine!”
    â€œWhy should I be fair?” Catherine said. “Don’t talk to me about fair. Was it fair that I was dumped here after I won every race for two years?”
    â€œJust be glad that Mrs. Splinter took you in,” said Irving. “Most used-up greyhounds go to heaven when their racing days are over.”
    â€œWho are you calling used up?” Catherine demanded.
    Then Marshall slid up the side of his glass case, his tongue darting in and out. “ Life isn’t fair,” he said. “Those policemen who found me in the bathtub tossed me into a wicker clothes hamper as though I were soiled laundry. That’s how I, a king, ended up here surrounded by such depauperate strays!”
    â€œâ€˜Depauperate’?” Catherine said. “What does that word mean?”
    â€œIt means ‘stunted, severely diminished, arrested in development.’ Look around you, my dear lady,” the snake replied.
    â€œI,” said Goldie, rising up on all fours, “am a yellow Labrador retriever! When my master’s father took me hunting, I went into the icy bay to bring