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Soda takes things too literal.
“Man, I don’t feel good...” Darry whined, stretching out on the couch and rubbing his stomach. Soda sat on the edge of the couch, giving his older brother a cup of hot cocoa. Darry thanked him and took a huge gulp. He went back to rubbing his stomach.
“You okay, Dar?”
“Golly, little buddy, I don’t know...” he moaned, “Ugh, I feel... pregnant...” and he gave a slight chuckle. But Soda didn’t hear the chuckle. He got to his feet and started wailing.
“OH MY GOD, DARRY’S PREGNANT!” he yelled. He ran to the kitchen and started getting a tub of warm water and a rag. Darry stared at his brother.
“Soda, I’m not pregnant,” he said, but yet again, he ignored his brother and continued running around. He sat at the edge of the bed and lifted the blanket covering his brother. He quickly spread Darry’s legs and settled the bowl between them.
“PUSH, DARRY, PUSH!”
“I’m not pregnant!”
“YOU’RE NOT PUSHING! PUSH!”
“Sodapop!”
“THE BABY’S GUNNA DIE! PUSH!”