Free The Day of the Iguana by Henry Winkler

DIDN’T HAVE MUCH TIME, but with Frankie back on the team, at least there was hope. We raced into the elevator and headed for my apartment.
    â€œThanks for showing up,” I said to him as we watched the floor numbers change above the elevator doors.
    â€œI owed it to you,” said Frankie.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI realized you got yourself into this mess for me. That’s why you took that cable box apart-because you felt bad about screwing up the movie, and you never wanted that to happen again. Am I right?”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “And now look. I’ve screwed up again. Hank Zipzer, world’s greatest screw-up.”
    â€œBut we love you anyway,” Ashley said.
    â€œSpeak for yourself, Ashweena,” Frankie said with a laugh.
    When we walked into my apartment, my dad and Emily were crawling around the floor on their hands and knees. They were looking under all the furniture and in back of the book-cases.
    â€œWe have a problem,” Emily said. “Katherine is missing again.”
    â€œSo what’s the problem?” I asked.
    â€œThat is so not funny, Hank,” said Emily. “I’m worried.”
    â€œMaybe you just nuzzled her one time too many,” I said.
    â€œHank, this is important to Emily,” my dad said. “Not everything’s a joke.”
    â€œYou’re right, Dad,” I said. “Emily, I’m very sorry you have a missing iguana. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’re going to my room. Come on, guys.”
    We headed for my bedroom-everyone except Robert, that is.
    â€œI’d help you look for her, but I’m allergic to dust,” Robert said to Emily. “Actually, it’s not the dust I’m allergic to, but the dust mites. They’re tiny bugs that infect my sinus cavities causing green mucus.”
    â€œRobert, my man,” Frankie said. “You’re grossing us out.”
    â€œI don’t mind hearing about it,” said Emily. “I get sinus congestion, too.”
    I tell you, Robert and Emily were made for each other. Two nose-blowing, iguana-loving peas in a pod.
    Robert followed us into my bedroom and closed the door. By then, I had pulled open the top drawer and was showing Frankie the pieces of the cable box. Frankie picked up two of the circuit boards. He laid them next to each other on the desktop, and moved them around until they clicked into place. Then he did the same thing with two more pieces and attached a couple of wires.
    I had moved those pieces around for hours, and nothing had happened.
    â€œThis isn’t so bad, Zip,” Frankie said. “I think old Humpty Dumpty can put this baby back together again.”
    Frankie sat down at my desk to work. Ashley and I handed him the pieces one by one, and he put them together. Robert was his assistant, and I have to admit, he did a pretty good job.
    We were halfway finished assembling the box when I heard the door to my room being pushed open. I must not have closed it all the way.
    â€œEmily,” I said, without looking up. “The sign says PRIVATE.”
    â€œThat’s not Emily,” Robert said. His voice sounded strange, kind of freaked out.
    I looked over toward the entrance and couldn’t believe my eyes. A pair of my father’s boxer shorts was opening the door and walking into my room. The underpants crossed my bedroom floor and disappeared under my bed.
    â€œDid you guys see what I saw?” Ashley said.
    â€œMutant underwear,” said Frankie. “It had legs.”
    I scrunched down and looked under my bed. There were the underpants, lying inside the plastic shell of the cable box. Surrounding my father’s boxers were a bunch of other objects-three cotton balls, one of my mom’s furry slippers, a whole bunch of crumpled-up toilet paper, and, I hate to say it, a pair of tightywhitey Ninja underpants that had once belonged to yours truly.
    I stuck my hand under the bed and