carrying a small, plain cardboard box.
“I had better things to do than to play with you,” said Mortimer matter-of-factly.
“Oh. Sure,” said Ernest, trying to hide his hurt. “What’s in the box?”
“Actually, Ernest, I’ve got you a present,” said Mortimer, smiling.
Ernest stood up. He looked at his brother in disbelief.
“Well, don’t look so surprised, stupid—you are my twin brother,” said Mortimer, placing the box on Ernest’s desk and opening up the top flaps.
“I know, but you don’t normally—oh . . .”
Ernest looked up at his brother in amazement. Mortimer said nothing, watching as Ernest placed his hands inside the box and carefully lifted out the fluffy gray kitten. The kitten blinked a few times and looked up at him curiously; then, satisfied that he was safe, it curled up and closed its eyes.
“Ahh. He’s lovely. I can’t believe it. Thank you, Mort.” Ernest hesitated. “Does Mother know?”
“Yes, I checked with her first. Right, are you ready to get on with our work?”
“Work?” said Ernest distractedly, rubbing his finger under the purring kitten’s chin.
“Yes, Ernest. That’s why I got the kitten.”
Confused, Ernest looked up at Mortimer and saw an evil smile, a smile that he saw too often, spread across his brother’s face.
“Oh, no, Mort. What are you going to do?”
Mortimer looked over at the blackboard, and Ernest followed his gaze.
“I would say that a kitten is an object, wouldn’t you, Ernest?”
“I don’t think that’s what Mother meant, Mort,” said Ernest, panicking.
“It’s open to interpretation, Ernest,” said Mortimer, grabbing the kitten from his brother’s hands.
The kitten looked up, surprised. Its little legs hung limply from Mortimer’s hands.
“You always get so. . . . emotional ,” said Mortimer mockingly, as he placed the kitten on the floor. The kitten looked around and then stretched lazily, ignorant of the danger it was in.
“Mort, please don’t,” pleaded Ernest, but Mortimer paid no attention. Ernest watched as his brother’s eyes glazed over and stared at the kitten.
Whoosh . Ernest watched, horrified, as the kitten began to slide suddenly across the wooden floor.
“Nooooo!” cried Ernest as he watched the confused kitten build up speed, its legs desperately scrambling around for some way to stop. Ernest covered his eyes with his hands as the kitten smacked into the wall. Thump.
An agonizing silence followed. Ernest stood frozen on the spot in horror, unable to look up.
Meeeeeeow.
Ernest slowly dropped his hands and looked up to see the kitten shaken and disoriented but still alive and seemingly unhurt. It raised itself up on his four paws and tried to walk, but wobbled and dropped back down again.
Mortimer exploded into laughter. Ernest looked at him, horrified, as Mortimer struggled to get his breath back, but every time he tried to compose himself, he dissolved into fits of laughter again.
Ernest said nothing and walked over to the kitten. He sat down on the floor and placed the kitten on his lap and stroked it gently until he felt it begin to calm. After a few minutes, his brother’s laughing died down. He heard his footsteps as he approached.
“Your turn, Ernest.”
Ernest looked up at his brother but didn’t reply. He wondered how somebody could look so like him and yet be so different. For a brief moment he felt a surge of hatred rise up through him, so unfamiliar that it took him by surprise.
“No.”
“What?” asked Mortimer, shocked.
“No, Mort, I won’t do it. It’s cruel,” said Ernest, with a resolve he had never shown in all of his twelve years.
“How dare you question me, Ernest. Do it now.”
“No, Mort. I’m not going to hurt him. We can practice without using a kitten.”
Mortimer said nothing as he considered this turn of events, while Ernest pretended to ignore him and stroked the kitten.
“Ernest?”
Ernest looked up. “Yes?”
“If you
“I had better things to do than to play with you,” said Mortimer matter-of-factly.
“Oh. Sure,” said Ernest, trying to hide his hurt. “What’s in the box?”
“Actually, Ernest, I’ve got you a present,” said Mortimer, smiling.
Ernest stood up. He looked at his brother in disbelief.
“Well, don’t look so surprised, stupid—you are my twin brother,” said Mortimer, placing the box on Ernest’s desk and opening up the top flaps.
“I know, but you don’t normally—oh . . .”
Ernest looked up at his brother in amazement. Mortimer said nothing, watching as Ernest placed his hands inside the box and carefully lifted out the fluffy gray kitten. The kitten blinked a few times and looked up at him curiously; then, satisfied that he was safe, it curled up and closed its eyes.
“Ahh. He’s lovely. I can’t believe it. Thank you, Mort.” Ernest hesitated. “Does Mother know?”
“Yes, I checked with her first. Right, are you ready to get on with our work?”
“Work?” said Ernest distractedly, rubbing his finger under the purring kitten’s chin.
“Yes, Ernest. That’s why I got the kitten.”
Confused, Ernest looked up at Mortimer and saw an evil smile, a smile that he saw too often, spread across his brother’s face.
“Oh, no, Mort. What are you going to do?”
Mortimer looked over at the blackboard, and Ernest followed his gaze.
“I would say that a kitten is an object, wouldn’t you, Ernest?”
“I don’t think that’s what Mother meant, Mort,” said Ernest, panicking.
“It’s open to interpretation, Ernest,” said Mortimer, grabbing the kitten from his brother’s hands.
The kitten looked up, surprised. Its little legs hung limply from Mortimer’s hands.
“You always get so. . . . emotional ,” said Mortimer mockingly, as he placed the kitten on the floor. The kitten looked around and then stretched lazily, ignorant of the danger it was in.
“Mort, please don’t,” pleaded Ernest, but Mortimer paid no attention. Ernest watched as his brother’s eyes glazed over and stared at the kitten.
Whoosh . Ernest watched, horrified, as the kitten began to slide suddenly across the wooden floor.
“Nooooo!” cried Ernest as he watched the confused kitten build up speed, its legs desperately scrambling around for some way to stop. Ernest covered his eyes with his hands as the kitten smacked into the wall. Thump.
An agonizing silence followed. Ernest stood frozen on the spot in horror, unable to look up.
Meeeeeeow.
Ernest slowly dropped his hands and looked up to see the kitten shaken and disoriented but still alive and seemingly unhurt. It raised itself up on his four paws and tried to walk, but wobbled and dropped back down again.
Mortimer exploded into laughter. Ernest looked at him, horrified, as Mortimer struggled to get his breath back, but every time he tried to compose himself, he dissolved into fits of laughter again.
Ernest said nothing and walked over to the kitten. He sat down on the floor and placed the kitten on his lap and stroked it gently until he felt it begin to calm. After a few minutes, his brother’s laughing died down. He heard his footsteps as he approached.
“Your turn, Ernest.”
Ernest looked up at his brother but didn’t reply. He wondered how somebody could look so like him and yet be so different. For a brief moment he felt a surge of hatred rise up through him, so unfamiliar that it took him by surprise.
“No.”
“What?” asked Mortimer, shocked.
“No, Mort, I won’t do it. It’s cruel,” said Ernest, with a resolve he had never shown in all of his twelve years.
“How dare you question me, Ernest. Do it now.”
“No, Mort. I’m not going to hurt him. We can practice without using a kitten.”
Mortimer said nothing as he considered this turn of events, while Ernest pretended to ignore him and stroked the kitten.
“Ernest?”
Ernest looked up. “Yes?”
“If you
Similar Books
