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Skorzy Goes Wild
Skorzy Goes Wild
Skorzy Goes Wild
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Skorzy Goes Wild

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Timmy has big problems. His older brother Martin and his teacher at school (who is definitely a witch!) are out to get him. But Timmy has a friend, a powerful dragon named Skorzy, who helps him inflict awesome revenge on his enemies. Only he can see this dragon . . .

Timmys exciting escapades get him in trouble. His parents send the boy to Dr. Trahk, a Tibetan monk, to talk. Before long, Timmy begins to realize that many of his thoughts were colored by his own perspective. His older brother did treat him a bit harshly at times, but Martin is really a good friend. And, almost unbelievably, his teacher is not a witch at all.

As Timmy comes to see the world differently, he begins to have more positive, constructive feelings. With Skorzys help, he becomes extremely popular in school. He even manages to get Martin to stop smoking.

All this time, the relationship between Timmy and his dragon threatens to change. Is Skorzy real? Does Timmy still need him to help fight his battles? What is reality, and how does it depend on his perspective? As Timmy successfully struggles to resolve these questions, the dragon slowly fades awaybut not before Skorzy aids Timmy in a final, daring escapade that involves an alien from outer space. For ages 7-up.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherXlibris US
Release dateJun 13, 2000
ISBN9781469112411
Skorzy Goes Wild
Author

Woody Rowe

Woody Rowe has been a stock broker and a Professor of Russian and comparative literature. He is the author of 17 other books, including 8 for children. He lives blissfully in Florida with his artist-wife Eleanor. They have two far-out sons and a nuerotic dachshund named Lola.

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    Book preview

    Skorzy Goes Wild - Woody Rowe

    ONE

     

    Image304.JPG

    Early morning. Timmy’s sun-bright room is absolutely quiet.

    Under the covers, all cozy and warm. Skorzy is lying there too, breathing peacefully.

    From far away, a bad, threatening noise.

    Timmy slowly floats up toward awakeness. That noise was so bad! His face makes an angry frown. He wants to stay asleep, where it’s warm and safe.

    Skorzy doesn’t like waking up either. And it’s dangerous to disturb him. Skorzy has sharp claws and powerful jaws. Green scales too.

    Don’t wake Skorzy! If you try, he’ll attack you, and you’ll die. KA-ZAM!

    Timmy smiles. He drifts back down into sleep. He’s happy now, and so is Skorzy. They settle deeper and deeper, like pebbles dropped into a pond. They both feel—

    Hey, butt-breath! Time to get up! I woke you once before. Mom’s making pancakes.

    This is Martin’s voice, coming from the hall. Timmy shudders. So does Skorzy, who clenches the claws on his webbed green feet. His eyes burn bright orange.

    At least, it’s pancakes. Timmy can picture them steaming in a light-brown stack. Butter-smeared, syrup-dripping.

    But it’s so drowsy and warm next to Skorzy. Maybe he can doze for just a few more minutes. Maybe—

    You deaf, butt-breath? Hit the floor! Mom says now!

    Martin’s shaggy head is poking through the door. He’s eleven, three years older than Timmy. He makes a dry, raspy cough. Martin has asthma. Sometimes he wheezes and coughs so much it’s scary. Now, he stops coughing, gasps, and glares impatiently. Well? Move!

    Timmy glares back, but slides out of bed and stands up.

    Under the covers, Skorzy snarls. Low, but dangerous. His powerful body ready to spring.

    Skorzy could fling off the sheets in a flash. He could rise in the air on his awesome, dark-green wings.

    If he did, Martin’s eyes would bulge like black-dotted eggs. His shaggy hair would stand on end. He’d freeze like a helpless, panicky rabbit.

    For one breath-holding moment, nothing would happen. Then Skorzy’s jagged jaws would make a terrible grin. He’d pounce on Martin with blade-sharp claws. The victim would scream in terror and pain …

    But now, lucky for Martin, he decides to leave. Couldn’t wait to shovel in those pancakes. He had no idea what Skorzy was planning to do.

    Skorzy’s quicker than a cat. Pointy long wings, like a bat. Skorzy’s deadly scary, too, when he is attacking you. KA-ZAM!

    Timmy slowly puts on his clothes. It’s Saturday. Why does he have to get up at all? He could warm up his pancakes later in the microwave.

    Why is Martin so mean? He enjoys waking you up. Timmy can tell from the gloaty sound of Martin’s voice. Like he’s ordering you around or something.

    Well, he won’t be happy long. Timmy knows a secret. A shocking secret. An outrageous, jaw-dropping secret.

    It was Skorzy who spied, and he told Timmy. If Mom and Dad find out, Martin will be in deep trouble.

    Let’s tell the secret, Timmy whispers.

    Skorzy grins. A long, sharp, jagged grin. He scrapes his claws on the rug. Dragons like revenge.

    Skorzy watches what you do. He’s not afraid to tell on you. KA-ZAM!

    The dragon’s orange eyes gleam excitedly. Puffs of grey smoke rise from his wide nostrils. He moves towards the door.

    No, Skorzy, wait! Timmy whispers. You stay here. I can handle this.

    Timmy finishes lacing up his shoes. Then he marches down to the kitchen, hiding the grim little smile on his face.

    TWO

     

    Image304.JPG

    The rich smell of buckwheat pancakes fills the sunny kitchen.

    Timmy’s mother stands at the stove, ready to turn some big, bubbly ones on the griddle. His father and Martin sit at the round table. Mr. Randolf reading the paper, Martin stuffing his face. The TV isn’t even on.

    Morning, sleepy head, his mother calls. This batch is for you. She flips one expertly. It makes a sizzling hiss.

    Good morning, son, Mr. Randolf mutters, his face still buried in the paper.

    Hi, Dad. Timmy scrapes back his chair, glaring at Martin, who doesn’t even notice. He doesn’t even care if Timmy is alive. Except for the fun of telling him what to do.

    Here, dear. Mrs. Randolf plunks a steaming plate with three puffy pancakes before him.

    Thanks, Mom. Timmy eats in silence, his eyes on Martin.

    Martin just keeps stuffing his face. Like nobody else exists. Stopping only to read the sports page. Like he owns the entire universe. And you’re only there so he can order you around.

    Timmy draws himself up. Martin loves Suzie, he blurts. Martin kissed Suzie down by the creek. Martin’s a lover, hee hee.

    Martin makes a mean scowl. Watch your mouth, butt-breath.

    But it’s true! Timmy gloats. You must have cut class, too. I saw you from my window. I was sick, but you weren’t!

    Martin glares darkly. Watch out! he hisses.

    You watch out, Timmy declares. Or Scorzy’ll get you. Real soon.

    Timmy sits breathlessly still, waiting for these terrible words to sink in.

    Martin butters the last of his pancakes. He makes a rough, dry cough. Who’s Skorzy, butt-breath?

    Don’t call your brother that, says Mrs. Randolf. You know very well, Martin. Skorzy is Timmy’s imaginary friend.

    Srumff. Martin snort-laughs.

    Skorzy’s not imaginary! Timmy cries. "He’s real. He has

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