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When Johnny has his eleventh birthday, his parents decide he is old enough for dancing classes, but too old to collect bottle caps any more.
When Johnny was nine he received a letter from the President of the United States. It read:
I heard about your bottle cap collection. I'mglad to be able to do my share.
Along with the letter came a ginger ale bottle cap. It was bent in the middle from when the President had pried it off with his bottle opener.
Johnny threw the letter away and tossed the bottle cap in with his other ones.
That was about a year and a half ago.
Johnny can remove a bottle cap without bending it.
"John-ny!" called his mother, Carol Laxatayl, from the living room. "Johnny, go to bed. Johnny! Johnny, where are you?"
"He's in the basement," said Christene from under the coffee table. Christene was Johnny's little sister who never had to go to bed.
"Princess, do you know where Johnny is?" asked her mother.
Christene bit her finger, then nodded her head.
"John-ny!" called Carol.
It was summertime, just a week after school let out, and the day before Johnny's eleventh birthday.
"Johnny, where are you? It's time for bed! Johnny, I know you can hear me, do you hear me?"
Carol worked in a library where she had to keep quiet all day long. When she came home she made up for it by yelling a lot. Mostly, she yelled at Johnny.
"Johnny! Johnny, where are You?"
"He's in the basement," said Christene.
"Princess, do you know where your brother is?" asked Carol.
Christene bit her finger and nodded her head.
That last scream woke up Johnny's father, HarryLaxatayl, who had been asleep on the couch. Harry had been out of a job for a while. He was a tall, skinny man with red hair and a red beard. He looked like a red-headed Abe Lincoln.
"What's the matter, Honey?" he asked.
"I can't find Johnny," Carol replied. "It's past his bedtime. John-ny!"
"Princess, where is Johnny?" asked her father.
"He's in the basement, Daddy," said Christene.
"He's in the basement, Honey," repeated Harry.
Mrs. Laxatayl gave her daughter a funny look. "Princess?" she asked. "Why didn't you tell me where he was?"
Christene thought for a second, then replied, "I didn't know you were looking for him." She thought it sounded like a reasonable answer.
Carol threw her hands up in the air, then walked into the hall closet. On the floor there was a trapdoor. She raised it and hollered down into the basement, "Johnny, it's time for bed!"
There was no answer.
"Johnny, are you down there?" she called. "Johnny!"
"Did you call me, Mommy?" came the voice from down below.
"Yes I called you!" answered his mother. "I've been calling you for the last ten minutes! It's after ten o'clock!"
"Okay, okay," said Johnny. "You don't have to shout."
He was ten years old and his bedtime was ten o'clock. Tomorrow was his birthday and his bedtime would be changed to ten-thirty, but today he still had to go to bed at ten o'clock. He stepped up from the basement and out of the closet.
His mother smiled when she saw Johnny and Johnny kissed her good night. His father patted him on the back. "Go to sleep, Son. You've got a big day ahead of you."
Johnny walked down the hall toward his room.
"Good night, Johnny," called Christene.
"Night, Christene," said Johnny.
Johnny looked like a dog. Not that he was ugly. No, he was, as they say, "a handsome dog." Besides, dogs aren't ugly. And not all dogs look alike. A Saint Bernard looks nothing like a poodle. But Johnny didn't look like either of those dogs. He looked just like a dog that happened to live only a few blocks away, a mutt by the name of Popover.
Popover had white, silky fur with black around his eyes, and a very curly tail.
Johnny didn't have a tail. Nor did he have white, silky fur with black around his eyes. But he looked like Popover just the same. They had the same expression on their faces.