Invisible Inkling

Начало книги

Hi, you.

When you’re done reading this, can I ask you a favor?

Please don’t tell my parents about Inkling.

And don’t tell my sister Nadia, either.

Or Sasha Chin from downstairs.

Actually, please don’t tell anyone that I’ve had an

invisible bandapat living in my laundry basket for six weeks, eating my family’s breakfast cereal and playing with my pop-up-book collection.

Inkling needs to stay hush-hush.

For serious.

The only reason I am telling you right now is that if I don’t tell somebody, I really think my brain might explode.

And that would not be pretty.

From

Hank Wolowitz

The Fur Beneath the Sink

A thing about me is, I have an overbusy imagination. Everyone says so.

And it’s true. I’m not saying I don’t.

I imagine airplanes that argue with their pilots, drinks that change the color of your skin, and aliens who study human beings in science labs—all when I’m supposed to be doing something else.

Like cleaning my room.

Читать дальше →