Each morning at 5:30 sharp, distinguished historian William H.
MacMillan would leap from his third-level bunk bed, flip on the lights,
and, jutting out his jaw, begin to beat upon his chest with his fists,
declaring himself to be high king of the jungle. His fourteen sisters
would grumble and groan, thrashing about in their beds and pulling the
quilts over their faces, pleading with him to let them sleep.
On this particular morning however, he had other plans.
"Sqwawk, sqwawk!" he cried, pecking at the air, "Lazy bones make for
lazy days! Sqwawk, sqwawk!"
"Uuunnnhhhhhhhhh..." said his sisters.
"Rise and shine! Rise and shine! Bwwaaak!" he replied, his
heavily-waxed mustache twitching.
"That doesn't make sense!" his sister Charlene mumbled, rolling over to
face him and rubbing her eyes, "How could a monkey even make those
"I don't think he's a monkey
today" mused Stacy, "he's probably just some other dumb thing like a
moose or a muskrabbit."
"You mean musk cat" corrected Evaline.
"Yeah sorry musk cat", Stacy said.
But distinguished historian William H. MacMillan paid no attention to
any of them, and scuffed at the carpet with his stockinged feet,
clucking to himself. One by one, the girls climbed down out of their
beds and filed past him in their nightgowns, rolling their eyes. They
tromped out the door and down the hall without looking back, the last
girl closing the door behind her.
"Aw shucks," distinguished historian William H. MacMillan muttered,
"living in a house full of no-fun girls stinks!"
Tears streaking his face, he stumbled over to a nearby vanity and began
tearing pages from one of the girls' diaries.
After bathing, shaving, and donning his favorite three piece lambskin
suit, distinguished historian William H. MacMillan proceeded solemnly
down the stairs and into the kitchen. His mother and sisters were
seated around the table, wolfing down the remnants of their deviled
eggs and slightly moist butterless toast.
"Distinguished historian William H. MacMillan!" scolded mother, "What
have I told you about being late for breakfast!"
Distinguished historian William H. MacMillan said nothing, plodding
over to the table and settling into his chair. When his mother made no
move to serve him, he sighed, stood up, and stormed over to the pots
and pans on the stove.
"There aren't any eggs here!" he
shouted, banging the pans around, "Where's my G.D. eggs!?"
"Distinguished historian William H. MacMillan!" cried his mother,
aghast, "You know we don't use that sort of language in this house."
"You don't get any eggs because you were LAAAAATE!" Melanie cried
"It's the rules." agreed Naomi the 3rd through a mouthful of toast.
Distinguished historian William H. MacMillan turned to look at his
mother, who only nodded.
"But MOOOO-OOOOOM!" Distinguished historian William H. MacMillan
whined, tears welling in his eyes.
Shrugging, she turned away. The girls began to giggle. Distinguished
historian William H. MacMillan stood for a moment, his lip quivering.
He began to cry.
"You just wait till your father gets home," said Mother
disinterestedly, "He'll give you something to cry about."
"What movie do you girls want to watch?" mother asked as she pulled
open a drawer full of battered old VHS tapes.
"Teen Wolf Too! Teen Wolf Too!" all the girls screamed, joining hands
and parading around the room.
"No!" pouted distinguished historian William H. MacMillan, "But I
wanted to watch The Wizard."
"Now distinguished historian William H. MacMillan, if we can't all
agree on a movie then nobody can watch anything." his mother said,
placing her hands on her hips.
"But mo-om!" he whined, "I neeeever get to watch what I want! I wanna
watch The Wizard!"
"I know why he wants to watch it," Karen cried, her eyes wide with
delight, "It's because his giiirrl-friend is in it!"
"Ooooooooh!" cried the other girls in unison,
"DistinguishedhistorianWilliamH.MacMillan's got a girl-friend!
DistinguishedhistorianWilliamH.MacMillan's got a girl-friend!"
"They're lovers!" squealed Lola,
pointing and laughing.
"It isn't true! It isn't true!" distinguished historian William H.
MacMillan began to cry.
The girls began to dance around him, sticking out their tiny pink
tongues and tugging at the hems of his double breasted suit jacket.
"Nah nah nah nah nah! Distinguished historian William H. MacMillan is
in lo-ove!" they jeered.
"Oh, look at the little baby!" shouted Joanna, "He's a little diaper
baby! Let's change him and give him a bottle!"
"Stoppit! Stoppit!" he moaned, burying his head in his hands, "I'm not
in love! I'm not a diaper baby!"
Mother only laughed as she strode over to the player, sliding the Teen
Wolf Too cassette into the slot.
"Hoo-ray!" cried the girls in unison, "Teen Wolf Too!"
Sobbing uncontrollably, distinguished historian William H. MacMillan
ran out of the room and up the stairs to the bedroom. He flopped down
onto one of the bunks and buried his head in the pillow. After he had
stopped crying, he got up and wandered over to the shelves in the
corner of the room. Sniffling, he picked up his favorite nude troll
doll, clutching it to his tear-stained chest. He settled down into the
chair at the vanity and began running a brush through the doll's wild,
pink tuft of hair, humming softly to himself.
"You'll be my friend won't you trumpy?" he whispered to the doll as he
brushed. "Of course you will..." Finishing, he set down the brush and
smoothed back it's frazzled mane. "We'll be best friends forever and
ever." he said, kissing the doll lightly on it's stomach and placing it
in his breast pocket of his suitjacket.
"Forever and ever..."