“No!” Muncho appeared suddenly on my right shoulder, the hero of
the hour. “Don’t pay attention to Rex, he’s the villain of this story!”
“Where have you been?” I cried out. I was so relieved. I had been
beginning to feel the alluring lure of a life of delinquency and
brattishness.
“I am here now! You will not be a brat or be naughty!”
I sighed a mighty sigh of moral clarity.
“Go away Rex,” Muncho shouted. “Your advice is terrible and so
is your face.”
“Your face is orange!” shouted Rex.
“So is yours!” shouted Muncho.
“Actually my face is terracotta, because I’m made of lentils!” Rex
yelled, but his face was getting slightly redder as he got crosser.”
“Enough of all the yelling!” I yelled. “I have decided not to be a
brat!”
From then on Muncho and Legumasaurus Rex were archnemeses.
They would vy for influence over key decisions in my life, one pulling
me in the right direction and one in the wrong direction.