7 The Big Brain Blockage

The Big Brain Blockage

"Hey, Andy," said Terry, "I've got this really great idea for a story but I can't think of the words or pictures to explain it. I think my brain is blocked. Can you take a look?" "Sure," I said. I shined a torch into Terry's right ear and peered deep inside his head. "What can you see?" said Terry. "Nothing," I said.

"I'm not even sure you've got a brain! I can smell freshly baked cookies, though. Have you been been baking cookies in your ear by any chance?" "No," said Jill, appearing with a batch of freshly baked cookies. "But I have." "You've been baking cookies in Terry's ear?" I said. "No, in my oven," said Jill. "What's the matter with Terry?" "His brain is blocked," I said. "He's got a great idea for a story but he can't get it out. I think we're going to have to operate." "Yay!" said Jill. "I love operations. And as luck would have it, I just baked this batch of shrink-me- down cookies. If we eat a couple, we can make

ourselves small enough to enter Terry's head and perform the operation right now." "Thanks, Jill," said Terry, reaching for a cookie. "Don't mind if I do!" "And I don't mind if you don't!" I said, slapping his hand away from the cookies. "You have to stay big while Jill and I get small—otherwise we won't be able to fit inside your head." "But I like cookies!" said Terry. "Don't worry," said Jill. "Once we have your brain unblocked, you can eat all the cookies you want and get as small as you like. In the meantime, we need you to lie down and go to sleep so it's safe for us to conduct our intracranial investigation."

"All right," said Terry, and he lay down and closed his eyes. "Are you asleep yet?" I said, after a few minutes. "No," said Terry. "I need a glass of warm milk. I always have a glass of warm milk before I go to sleep." So I got him a glass of warm milk and he drank it all down— but he didn't fall asleep. "I'm still awake," said Terry. "Can you sing me a lullaby?" "I don't know any," I said. "Just a song, then," said Terry. "Which one?" "How about my favorite song?" said Terry. "The theme to The Barky the Barking Dog Show."

"But that's the most boring song in the whole world," I said. "That's good," whispered Jill. "The more boring it is, the sooner he'll get to sleep and the sooner we can remove whatever's blocking his brain and the sooner he'll be able to tell you his story idea." Jill was right, of course, so I started to sing.