Bones, standing there in his muddy clown boxers, answered Estelle in typical fashion. "I fell." He looked at me with that big, dumb smile of his and said, "I think it was the lymphoma."

     Estelle was throwing towels at us, all flustered about the mess. "Please get yourselves completely clean. I don't want a muddy mess in the . . ." Estelle paused for a second. "Did you say ‘lymphoma,' Hank?"

     "Yes!" Bones was genuinely excited that Estelle, as opposed to me, got it on the first try. He raised both arms up like he just scored the game winning goal, "Lymphoma!"

     I can't remember the last time Estelle got concerned about something other than her kitchen getting dirty or her Hog getting dented. "Oh, God. Cancer. The second-hand smoke I bet."

     I wasn't sure but it sounded like Estelle had gone from concern about Bones' cancer straight to blaming his mom for it. "Well, maybe I should drive you home now. I'm sure you'd rather be at home in your condition being all wet and everything."

     And now she was going to shut down our sleepover?! No way.

     "What?! You're telling me Bones has to go home because he's got cancer?! That's bullzogna!"

     Estelle hated curse words. The last time I had sworn in front of her I was seven and she put Tabasco sauce all over my tongue. So I made one up and marched right past her up the back stairs to my room. Bones stood there, not knowing what to do. I called back to him, "Come on, Bones. Let's go."

     Estelle made no protest, so Bones scampered by her and caught up to me. As we went up the stairs, I heard her say, "And I'll deal with that mouth of yours in the morning!"

     Challenge Question!

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