A couple months ago I dipped into my window-washing and lawn-raking college fund to buy me a motorcycle helmet in anticipation of the moving acquisition. Mummy spilled a pot to the kitchen floor when she saw me wearing it in the house that first time. It's kind of large.
  "You take that thing right back over there and get your money back!"
  "It was on sale and they won't take it back." I didn't lie at all about that, since the helmet was a close-out item at Runcibles in the Delta City Mall where I went with Joe for him to look for some computer thingy. And they told me I couldn't bring it back, no matter what, once you got your hair-smell into it.
  "It looks like a giant red melon on top of your neck." Mummy squinted at me and frowned, exaggerating again. "It looks like a huge red billiard ball."
  She exaggerated again, simply because the helmet is actually a demo, which is what you put on a slightly larger-than-life dummy, so guys can see it easily from out in the street. So it is actually a little big. But even if it weren't a little large it would upset Mummy to see me wear it, so I wear it inside only at meals and in my room and outside after school and weekends where I can imagine myself straddling a great red hog around the neighborhood while I'm washing windows or mowing lawns.