Patrick Griffin's Last Breakfast on Earth Read Online Free PDF

go of the chair.
    He was fine. He could walk. He—
    â€œWhat kind of greeting was that for a world-weary traveler?!”
    The servant’s door was being held wide by a relatively short furry animal standing on its hind legs.
    As Ichabod Coffin’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, the creature craned its antlered head over its shoulder.
    â€œGah!” it exclaimed as it yanked one of the electrodes from its rump. “These things have barbs on them!”
    â€œO-oh-a-o-eh!” replied Ichabod, collapsing back against the dining table, his heart once again flip-flopping in his chest, his lungs aching for breath, and his mind—as he lost consciousness—busy trying to decide if the police sirens he was hearing were real, or figments of his imagination.

 
    CHAPTER 10
    Second Thoughts

    â€œMother!” yelled the big-eyed boy named Kempton. “Cut it out. It’s okay. This is a good thing! It’s an Earth ling!”
    Kempton’s mother kept right on screaming. Patrick wondered if, beyond the obviously large eyes, she might have outsized lungs, too.
    A big-eyed businessman rushed out of the house, button-down shirt untucked, a white streak of cream cheese or something on his rouged cheek, and a torn edamame pod in his hand.
    â€œDarling, darling!” he yelled as he stumbled down the path, startling the animals into the neighbor’s yard. “What’s the matter!?”
    A dark-haired girl about Patrick’s age trailed after the man. She had the same big eyes and was dressed all in black except for some silver rings on her fingers and an Egyptian ankh pendant hanging from her neck. Of everyone there, she had on the least makeup.
    Kempton’s mother buried her head in her husband’s chest and began to sob.
    â€œIs it Kempton? What’s he done?!” blurted the man. He gave his wife a one-armed embrace and squinted down the path.
    â€œKempton Chappaqua Puber! Come here right now and apologize to your mother!”
    â€œBut, Father—didn’t you see my vid-feed?—it’s an Earth ling!”
    â€œI’ll make you wish you were an Earthling if you don’t get here in two quints!”
    Kempton’s mother was blubbering words including sick , inconsiderate , imp , horrid , ungrateful , and apologize at her husband.
    â€œWait right here,” said Kempton.
    â€œI wouldn’t know where else to go,” said Patrick softly, and stuck his hands in his pockets.
    Kempton stomped away toward his parents.
    The dark-haired girl regarded Patrick from the flagstone walkway. “So, how’s your day going?” she asked.
    â€œUm. Okay,” said Patrick, a little flustered. She was quite pretty and he found himself dropping his eyes to the ground, whereupon he noticed her shoes were like gloves—the fronts were indented around her individual toes. He looked up the path and now noticed the same was true of the father’s, the mother’s, and the boy’s, too.
    â€œJust kind of found yourself on our lawn?” she asked.
    â€œUm, yeah,” said Patrick.
    She nodded as if this were what she had been expecting him to say. “What’s your shirt all about?” she asked.
    â€œUmm,” said Patrick. He was wearing Neil’s They Might Be Giants shirt with the giant squid on it—a hand-me-down. He’d slept in it last night because his pajama drawer had been empty. “Umm, they’re called They Might Be Giants—they’re sort of a rock band,” he said.
    â€œRock band? What’s that?”
    â€œUmm,” said Patrick again, wondering if she was making fun of him. “You know, they play music.”
    â€œCool,” she said. “I like the lettering.”
    Patrick looked down at the shirt again.
    â€œHey, Earthling!” yelled the boy from up the walkway.
    â€œI’ll handle this, Kempton!” said the boy’s father, turning and beckoning