I
, Lynx (my real name is Robert which I despise) Young, remember not only my youth in the land of Cartré. It has been about thirty years since living in Cartré, but I’m much more mature than that time there. How I eventually matured is another story meant for another time Without further ado, I shall tell you a story of my youth.

In the land of Cartré, my family was rich, I do admit to being a bit spoiled and ignorant at the time. We lived in a small cottage in town and all I can say is that it sure didn’t have its victory for long when Aeron blew the roof off.
Another memory I recall is when I was in the middle of the floor one day, playing with my toy carriages and giving them sound effects, and I could hear my parents talking about me:

“Look at this Anna.” My father said as he held a letter in front of her. “Dr. Malone said he quits and is going to teach at a college somewhere away from us.”

“But he’s the only doctor we have.” Mother said worriedly looking at the paper to see what it said was true.

“That’s the longest therapist ever.” My bother Aeron remarked who was on the couch.

“That’s enough Aeron.” Father said.

“What will we do without him?” Mother inquired.

“I’m telling you there’s nothing we can do about Robert.” Father said. “The boy is messed up; completely insane.”

“He is not.” Mother argued. “He just needs time to learn and grow.”

“Mommy…” I said tugging on her dress as she spoke about how much of a “late bloomer” I was.

“Just wait a minute Lynx.” Mother said and slapped my hand.

“But Mommy…” I whined. “I need new toys.”

I shall never forget the look on my brother’s face when he saw the small cloud of smoke rising above my toy carriages as if they had really been in a wreck.

“Anna, just look,” Father said now getting flummoxed. “The first doctor left crying the next two threatened to sue. The last two¬¬—” Father sighed. “I don’t even want to mention what happened to the maid.”

“Now Alex, I’m sure we could find somebody that can come and cure him.” Mother said.

“But what if there isn’t anybody we can find?” Father inquired impatiently. “Do you think it’s normal for a son to already have his sideburns grown all the way down to his chin? ask the doctor to see his birth certificate to determine if he was really from his mother or a she lynx-cat? IS THAT NORMAL TO YOU?!?”

“Well if we can’t find anybody— then I’ll do it.” Mother said.

“NO!” Aeron and Father both shouted in unison.

“Remember the last time you tried to teach Lynx anything?”

Mother sighed. “That’s why I can’t go out on Tuesday nights anymore.”

“Exactly,” Father said. “I suggest we keep on looking.”

In about a week they did find somebody: a maid by the name of Cary Robins. She was dressed rather strangely like one of those fancy British ladies with the black parasol and a smile on her face that said: “Hello there, please allow me to watch your kid and look around the house for any valuables while you’re out.”

Mom and Dad, and somehow Aeron, were going to an opera show and told me to be on my best behavior. My brother told me if I didn’t touch his autographed Silver Roaches boots, then he would give me a snow globe, I knew he wouldn’t. I thought it would be cool if he did get me one and this time I was mature enough to actually know that the people inside were not real. Aeron’s Silver Roaches boots are his most prized possession and was given to him by Grandpa on his ninth birthday. Since then, he’s been crazy about the band. The band is much like the Present day Beatles except they come from the Ticelands and their music sound more modern to our time.


Mother told Cary my schedule and my father told her something about the shed and then left with Aeron.

“So, Robert…” Cary began with a weird British accent.

“My name is Lynx.” I told her in a tough guy tone that would hopefully get her to remember it even though she didn’t.

“Alright then Lynx,” She said in the same cheery voice that made me sick. “It says first on the list your mother gave me is to—”

“I want a snack!” I burst out suddenly.

“No snack.” She said.

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll spoil your dinner.”

“Well my mommy lets me have all the snacks I want even when I’m sick.”

“But don’t you get tired of eating?”

“Nope. Everybody says I’m too scrawny and my brother says I can’t pick up a twig. Dad says I have to eat more so I can be nice and healthy.”

We both were silent at that point. I opened my mouth but she stopped me before I could ask my question.

“Mommy says it’s not nice to interrupt people.” I remarked.

“Well I’m not your mother.” She answered. “And right now it says you need—”

“Sugar!” I cried.

She sighed in frustration. “Alright, I suppose we can get dinner started.”

I led her to the kitchen and digging through the bottom cupboard I pulled out a pan and from the top I pulled out a spoon and handed them to her.

“THIS IS A PAN AND SPOON.” I said as if she was an alien. “YOU PUT IT ON THE HOT THINGY WE CALL A STOVE AND PUT FOOD IN IT AND THEN YOU COOK THE FOOD AND THEN GIVE IT TO ME WHERE I CAN PUT IT IN HERE.” I opened my mouth widely and pointed inside.

“I know what it is.” She mumbled and handed the pan and spoon right back to me. “I’m starting to get annoyed with you, but I’m still going to make you something nice.”

“Is it Sugars Mc. Sugars Sugary Sugared Goodness?” I asked reading one of the sugar bags from one of the shelves.

She gave me a look as if I was some weird creature. “Whatever that is, probably not.”

“Is it something with sugar in it?”

“What’s with you and sugar?”

“Mommy says it’ll make me sweeter.”

She knelt down so her face was leveled with mine. “Obviously not, because you wouldn’t have been in therapy five times in one week and your mommy has told me how hyper you get when given any.”

From then on I know she was the Crypt Keeper in a woman’s body, for I could tell by the crows’ feet on each of her eyes.

When dinner was ready, she made me tie a napkin around my throat but I quickly took it off just to make sure she wasn’t trying to choke me. She brought me a weird green liquid in a bowl that looked like she killed all kinds of disgusting dead bugs from the window and mixed them with rotting veggies.

“Ew…” I said poking it with my spoon to see if it would dissolve the spoon. “What is it?”

“Broth.” She answered proudly.

“It looks like you sneezed in it and stuck a bunch of bugs in it and mashed them together.”

“For your information it’s one of the most highly recommended foods in all of France and the United Kingdom.”

“There are such places as those?”

She nodded.

“I made a raspberry noise with my lips. “Aeron told me there are only three places that exist: Cartré, the Ticelands, and Penny Lane.”

“Your brother must be pulling your leg.”

I looked down at my leg. “But he’s not there.” I said.

“It’s an expression.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

After dinner I went to bed after having an argument, and later I came down the stairs with my Plushy Pal Bob the Lynx-Cat.

“What are you doing out of bed?” She asked.

“I can’t sleep.” I answered.

“If I sing to you will it help you get to sleep?”

“Nah, I’m sure you don’t have as good of voice as Mommy.”

She sighed. “What do you want? Sugar?”

“I want to play a game.”

She got up and followed me up the stairs and to the closet at the end of the hall. I opened the door and everything was spotless.

“Where are they again?” She asked looking up on the top shelf.

“They’re up there.” I assured her.

“Where?” She asked stepping closer and at that moment I pushed her in and locked the door with the house key and shoved the key in my pocket and strolled on downstairs.

“Robert!” She shouted. “Robert Alexander Young, you let me out this instant!”

“Oh shut up!” I yelled back and continued eating a large bag of sugar.

About twenty or thirty minutes after I had settled down from being so hyper, I suddenly felt someone grab me and looking up I saw no other than Cary Robins herself.

“Wow, you must be some sort of magician or something.” I said.

She gnashed her teeth at me and some of her bangs came out and covered her face.
She inhaled then exhaled calmly. “Let me tell you a story about these scissors.” She said holding up a pair of shiny scissors.



At a quarter to nine my parents and Aeron came back and they saw Cary Robins with her happy weird smile.

“Wow, the house is still standing.” I heard Aeron said. “Even the inside!”

“I hope Lynx wasn’t too much of a burden for you.” Father said.

“Not at all.” She said cheerfully. “I sent him up to bed without any need of a horse whip.”

Aeron got suspicious and I could hear him coming up the stairs and opened the door to my room, and I started rocking myself back and forth saying utter nonsense that seemed like I was scared to death (even though nothing happened except talking and the scissors had nothing to do with it except for a funny story).

Aeron took one look then as he closed the door, I could just barely hear him mumble: “Yep, he’s finally lost it.”

He closed the door and I shouted to him: “Where’s my snow globe?!”

My parents liked her so much that they decided to keep her for a week! One day as I was told, my brother walked up to her while shw was dusting off a cobweb in one of the corners and asked what she did to get me so obedient (which was a hoax as well), but she just mrely replied: “It’s a maid thing.”

Aeron didn’t take that for an answer and kept pestering her till she scared her with a Silver Roaches story (it was rather funny if you understand England and France’s disputes) and when my parents found out about her scaring Aeron, they fired her.

It was a happy memory after that; my cousin Ermine Smith, who’s way older than me, became my new therapist and Aeron got to join me there too; and as for Mother well… she’ll get over it.