Brock had a temper, he was downright mean. If he didn’t get his way, he would kick and he would scream. He would push and shove and yell, ‘Give me that!”. If he didn’t get his way,
he would throw a temper tantrum in three seconds flat.
He would scrunch up his eyes and his face would get red, and soon you would see steam coming out of the ears on his head. He would open his mouth and let out a bellow.
No one wanted to be around such a fiery-tempered fellow.
His sister, Brenda, was the kindness queen.The total opposite of Brock, always nice and never mean. She was good to her friends and always helpful to her teachers.
Sometimes, on Sundays, she would take baked goods to their preacher. Even though she loved him, sometimes Brock was really a pest. Once in awhile his sourpuss attitude, would put her friendships to the test. They would get so tired of him.
For crying out loud, would he give it a rest? She would just shrug her shoulders and take it in stride. Together they would smile and roll their eyes, then decide where to play, indoors or outside.
One day at recess Brock was being so mean, stomping and snorting and causing a scene.Brenda went over to put her own words to the test.
“Brock Edward Bean, stop being so mean! It’s not all about you, you won’t always get your way. If you keep this up, you may get a black eye someday. Everyone is tired of your stomping and snorting and causing a scene. Eventually, you’ll wind up in the bad temper time machine!” she yelled at him.
“Bad temper time machine?! What is that,what do you mean?!” he shot back.
“Don’t kid yourself because it happened to me.I used to get red in the face and have a temper streak. But one night I was in my closet, putting on my pajamas. All of a sudden I looked up and my heart went bananas.”
“I wasn’t in my closet anymore. I was in a cabin, standing on the hardwood floor. Then I got a whooping with a switch before I went out the door. I ran and I ran, I screamed and I cried. Then all of a sudden in our house I was back inside.”
“That could never happen, it will never happen to me.” he shot back.
“Well, when we go home tonight you’ll have to wait and see,” she said, turning around and walking away.
Later that afternoon when they got home, Brenda told her parents about Brock’s horror show. They told him to straighten up and not to be mean, his punishment would be no TV and every toilet he would have to clean.
Brenda told them that she told Brock about the time machine and her Dad’s response was to smile indeed. He was always firm but never mean.
He was a scientist and invented the machine. He got to go back in time and have tea with Einstein and walk with Aristotle, but after that, the machine had a mind of its own, like a genie in a bottle. When Brenda was bad, it took her for a ride.
She always wound up in a different period of time, enduring some kind of punishment, time after time. It definitely taught her a lesson and she straightened up fast, for she knew to no longer act up, and learned that her modern punishments were not so bad.
That night Brock was brushing his teeth, getting ready for bed. He stood in his closet and pulled his pajama shirt over his head. He pulled it over his body and opened his eyes.They bugged out in horror as to what was before his eyes.
He was in a cabin, just like his sister said. He could feel someone standing behind him, just behind his head. His muscles tensed up and his back began to twitch.
That’s when he felt the sting of the switch. Just like his sister, he ran out the door. He ran faster than he ever had before. Pausing for breath, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, in his house, he was back inside.
He took off his shirt and ran to the mirror, looking for marks, shaking with fear. Not seeing any, he just shook his head. Went back to his room and crawled into bed. Pulled up the covers and that was that, he fell asleep in two minutes flat.
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