Free The Day of the Iguana by Henry Winkler Page B

pregnant iguana out of your cable box. Never has been done. Never will be done.
    So we had to move to Plan B, which was formerly known as Plan A. Since Katherine was going to stay in the cable box to hatch her eggs, which, by the way, takes ninety days, the only solution was to get a new cable box. We would have to do this before my dad found out that I had trashed ours. Magik 3’s job was to help me get the box, and Emily’s job was to keep her mouth shut about it.
    I stared at Katherine curled up in her nest, and wondered about two questions. How do iguanas get pregnant anyway? And why do these kinds of strange things always happen to me?
    â€œZip, snap out of it, will you, dude? We don’t have time to daydream,” Frankie yelled almost in my ear.
    â€œI’m not daydreaming. I’m day nightmaring.” I answered.
    â€œDid you hear what we said?” said Ashley. “We have to get the cable company’s number before they close.”
    â€œMaybe they can deliver a new box right away,” Frankie said.
    I looked at my watch. It was five thirty. One hour until my dad would be turning on the nightly news. I sped out of my bedroom and slid down the hallway linoleum around the corner into the kitchen. It’s good to know you can still have fun even in very bad situations.
    My mom keeps all the important numbers and business cards taped to the kitchen wall, which is canary yellow, by the way. There are notes with scribbled numbers all around the phone. Because I was so stressed, I couldn’t focus. All the cards and Post-Its with numbers started to blur. One of them had the number of the cable company, but I couldn’t tell which one. I couldn’t find it in the sea of cards.
    â€œHere, you guys look,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
    â€œLet me do it,” said Robert, moving Ashley aside. “I’m the calmest.”
    â€œYou’re also the shortest, Robert,” Frankie said. “Ashweena, you take that part of the wall and I’ll look on this side.”
    â€œHere it is! Here it is!” Ashley screamed.
    My heart started to beat really fast. How can you be so happy just finding a phone number? When your life, social and otherwise, depends on it, that’s how.
    â€œNo, no. This is a cable-knit sweater company,” she said. “Sorry, guys. Keep looking.”
    As always, Frankie was the man. He took a bright green card down from the wall.
    â€œHere it is,” he said. “Coxy Cable. Okay, Zip, start dialing.”
    â€œRead it slowly, Frankie. I can’t keep all the numbers in my head at once,” I said.
    â€œ362,” Frankie started.
    â€œ362,” I said, punching the numbers. “Go on.”
    â€œ5555,” Frankie continued. “Got that? Four fives.”
    â€œ5545,” I said.
    â€œGo slow, Hank. Five, five, five, five,” he repeated.
    â€œOh, okay. I got that. It’s ringing. Shhhh.”
    â€œThank you for calling Coxy Cable,” said a recorded voice on the other end. “Please listen carefully to the following menu.”
    â€œHere,” I said, pushing the receiver into Ashley’s hands. “You do it.”
    Ash listened for a while and pushed the number 3. She listened for another while and said, “Here. Someone said hello.” She handed me back the phone.
    â€œHello. How are you today?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “My name is Hank Zipzer. My parents are Randi and Stanley Zipzer and they are customers. Good ones. Please, we need a new box by six o’clock today. You’re not going to believe what happened. My sister’s idiotic iguana got a Phillips screwdriver, opened the box, and filled it with boxer shorts. Now she’s laying eggs in it. Can you believe that?”
    I finally took a breath.
    â€œNo,” the operator answered.
    â€œYou can’t?” I answered. “Well, I know it’s totally amazing. Anyway, I need to