Bertram awoke from his customary afternoon nap with an eerie feeling things weren't right. For starters, he wasn't wearing anything. Correction! He was wearing only socks ­ and a diaper. He was still on the sofa, like he always was. But the sofa seemed much bigger now. And staring down on him were the faces of his sister Edwina, her husband Jared, and their 8-year-old daughter Vanessa. And they were smiling wickedly.

"How does it feel?" Edwina asked. Bertram mumbled something inaudible. "I guess you have no feelings after coming to visit for a weekend and staying for more than five years, living and eating for free, and not lifting a finger to do anything ­ except play practical jokes on us," Edwina continued. "Oh, you did all the clichés! Salt in the sugar bowl. Milk of magnesia in the cream pitcher. Fire crackers in the barbecue grill. A garter snake in my lingerie drawer. You almost gave me a heart attack when those cats you put in the dryer jumped out at me. And you blew smoke at the smoke alarm at 4:30 a.m., causing us all flee from the 'fire,' only to have you lock us outside for hours ­ and me only in my panties. And when we complained, you always told us, 'What's the matter? Can't you take a little joke?'

"But recently, you went too far, targeting little Vanessa," Edwina added. "You convinced her that her goldfish needed to bigger bowl ­ the toilet! And that you could exercise the fish by flushing it! And then you sawed off the heads of her Barbie and Ken dolls and glued them back on the opposite bodies. Vanessa really cried her eyes out after that one.

"But now it's your turn, Bertram," Edwina said with a devilish twinkle in her eye. "Today, we substituted Watkin's Tonic for your Zima, and it shrank you from adulthood into a 6-month-old baby. And now that you've dressed appropriately..." Jared picked up a wicker laundry basket lined with pink blankets. It had a note attached reading, "Please take care of my little Orville because I no longer can. A Mother." As Edwina began to tuck Bertram into the basket, the doorbell rang. "It's the Juvenile Authorities," Vanessa cheered.

Suddenly terror stricken, Bertram began to kick and fuss. He tried to protest, but only gibberish came from his mouth. Jared explained that someone left the basket on their doorstep, then handed it to the two officers. Bertram, at wits end, began to bawl loudly. Realizing he was heading into foster care, Bertram, inside the officers' car, continued to kick and cry, prompting one officer to try and stuff a binky in his mouth.

As the car drove off, Edwina, Jared and Vanessa all waved goodbye to Bertram and in unison chanted, "What's the matter? Can't you take a little joke?"




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