Wiley came racing back into the kitchen, holding a yellowish looking pasteboard box, which he was ripping apart. "What's in here, Clyde?"
"Open it up! As I said, it looks just like you."
Wiley gave a loud whoop when the tin monkey fell out on the floor, and everybody in the kitchen laughed.
"Aw, I ain't no monkey! Say, what's this string going up through his stomach for?"
"Careful! Don't yank so hard, Wiley—you'll get him all tangled up. If you'll just read the directions, you'll see how he climbs up the string."
"Yeah! Look at him! I don't need no directions!"
"Mierd. Com'ere. You're next on the presents. I bought this for you in New York City the day after the Armistice was signed."
Mierd grinned as our oldest brother handed her a small, slick, black box not more than half the size of a biscuit. I could hardly wait for her to open it!
She didn't know how.
"Mash the little brass catch on the side," Walker told her.