Out of Whack Read Online Free

for Travis’ camera. We stopped at the grocery store first, and were so pleased with its fully functioning air conditioning system that we decided to hang around for a while. So we just walked up and down the aisles, discussing the pros and cons of almonds in chocolate bars, when Travis noticed one of the most wonderful things either of us had ever seen in our lives.
           There it was, waiting for us in the seafood department.
           An octopus.
           A real octopus, though fairly small, wrapped up just like it was a steak. Perhaps your grocery stores contain octopi in abundance, but this was the first time either of us had seen one of them in person. We were impressed. Very impressed. Forget the action figure and tape. We had to have that octopus for our very own.
           So we bought it, along with our candy bars, and hurried home to Travis’ backyard. Removing the cellophane was a simple enough task, but the actual removal of the octopus required a greater degree of bravery. You see, those things are slimy and have suckers. And we couldn’t be sure it was really dead, could we?
           “I’ll give you two blocks of chocolate if you take it out,” I said, with the intention of immediately stuffing the rest of the candy bar in my mouth after the task was completed, opening my mouth wide, and inviting him to claim his payment.
           “Uh-uh. I’ll give you one of mine if you do it.”
           “Nope.”
           “I dare you to pick up the octopus.”
           That was playing dirty, but it still didn’t work. We decided to pick up the octopus with two sticks, each of us holding one. If you’ve ever attempted to lift an octopus (or any unshelled mollusk, for that matter) with two sticks, you’ll realize that it doesn’t work, especially when the participants are more focused on trying to flip the octopus onto each other.
           Finally we donned protective gloves, each hesitantly grabbed a tentacle, and picked up the creature. Within two minutes our anxieties had vanished and we were tossing the octopus back and forth like a football. We pressed it against the window to see if the suckers on its tentacles would hold it there. We brought out the action figures and gave them a fearsome new enemy with which to do battle.
           Well, even something as fantastic as your very own dead octopus gets boring after a while. We needed to do something special with it. Something glorious.
           It’s worth mentioning at this point that Travis had an older sister.
           Okay, so I wasn’t completely out of my Practical Joke Phase. And since we’d used our own money to purchase the octopus, it would’ve been a waste of resources not to slip it under the covers of his sister Margaret’s bed. Right?
           And so we did. I stayed over at his house that night, but by that evening we’d forgotten about the octopus. We went to bed without giving it another thought.
           Travis was a middle child, but there was quite a gap in ages between his siblings. His younger brother Kyle was four, and Margaret was seventeen. She was always a nice girl, a good student, never got into much trouble. In fact, there was only one secret in her life that her parents would have seriously disapproved of. Every once in a while, not too often (I guess we just have to take her word for this), she would sneak her boyfriend into her room after everyone else had gone to sleep.
           At 1:38 a.m., Eastern Standard Time, there was a piercing shriek. Travis and I hurried out of his room next door to investigate. Travis’ parents burst out of their own room across the hall, and his dad threw open Margaret’s door.
           Pretend you’re Travis’ dad. You see your daughter standing in her room, totally freaked out, and not wearing a shirt. Her boyfriend, a large, muscular type, is desperately trying to get her to quiet down while he