“I tucked him in with his stuffed-animal pet dog—cleverly named Dog-Dog, by the way.”

“Mr. Watras asked me whether I was practicing, and I told him I was practicing my tissue basketball skills.”

“Who’s that?That’s the King.Who’s he?The Duke.Who’s she?The Princess.What do they call you?The Count.What does that make me?Umm…how about the Peasant?And the name stuck.”

“It was like seeing Bill Gates at age thirteen, times two. And half of him was wearing a cheerleader uniform. Yes, I know that’s a weird image.”

“The only time I can ever remember Steven crying over any of it was after my treatment, when I tried to use my foot on his bass drum pedal, and we realized I could never play a drum set.”

“Steven, I look like a raccoon.You do NOT look like a raccoon.Actually, he looked like some deranged anteater, but I didn’t figure that would be the thing to tell him.Yes, I do. Oh, no. What if I stay this way forever?You’re not going to stay that way forever, Jeffy. People get black eyes all the time. If they never got better, the streets would be crowded with raccoon people. Soon the raccoon people would find each other and breed.I was on a roll here.The preschools would fill up with strange ring-eyed children. Soon the raccoons would be taking over our streets, stealing from our garbage cans, leaving eerie tails of Dinty Moore beef stew cams in their wakes. Gangs of them would haunt the malls, buying up all the black-and-gray-striped sportswear. THE RIVERS WOULD RISE! THE VALLEYS WOULD RUN WITH…Steven you’re joking, right?”

“Finally the kitchen clock said 5:17. It was time to roll out. I shouted for my mom, woke Jeffrey up, ran upstairs, changed into my concert clothes, put on my shoes, and was standing by the door to the garage by 5:19—chanting “Let’s go! Come on!” (Feel free to try that at home, by the way; moms love it!)”