"Dale! Dale! Come on now,wake up!" The young girl, thirteen, a sudden burst of growth having transformed her from the family's "little plumpie-poo", to the long legged, pimply cheeked, budding breasted, adult. Grown up according to her, at least.

She was wearing her glasses that she had started to wearing in defiance of the neighborhood "It Gurls" James Milburn Junior High version. The girl she was shaking awake was her older brother's girlfriend's daughter, who had clicked with the family despite the breakup of the relationship. Dale "Commanche" Camacho was just about to tell Tyra she'd slap the extentsions from her head for trying to cut in front of her and T.I. at Brill's Rib's N' Thangs. She rose up from the mattress, her normally attractive face twisted up into a frown. "What??" Is the house on fire or somethin'? Damn! I was having a good dream too!" Clarisse shook her again. " Now, look! I'm up! Quit shaking me! What? " "Come see this! You gotta see this! Come on!" " Girrl, I don't wanna see no monster movie..." Dale then remembered the video they had discovered showing Javine, Clarisse second brother and self styled player engaged in some heated
wrestling with Denise Edding's flat butt sister, Odetta. Dale was of a broader build than Clarisse; poised between the stages of angular and voluptous. She kicked off the covers
and went with Clarisse outside the corner bedroom upstairs in the forty year old two story home, a part of the Lynewood Estates, or the "States" as it was now known. Dale was surprised to find it was 2: 25 in the morning. Not even Javine would be attempting anything in the house at this time. And he was zonked out in the hovel of his room as she saw in passing by. Clarisse shushed her which irked her because she hadn't been making any noise. They proceeded down the stairs in commando mode. A light was on in the kitchen.

 Dale, who had put that baby hippo Wanda Reynolds down on the bus and who had made the Basset sisters go the other way at the Bobby Seale Awards, suddenly wondered if Clarisse expected her to tangle with some crackhead burglar! Mr. Dewey was home! And had a .40 caliber in he and Miss Shenelle's bedroom, too. She was about to bring this up when a figure came out the kitchen carrying a heaping bowl of frosted corn flakes, the box, and the milk balanced on his head. The phrase she had heard Javine's really fine friend Omar say,"When in doubt, haul ass," came very quickly to mind and Dale was thinking of doing just that.

The midget burglar most have broke out from the crazy house. He was a white nutcase, with one of those Snidely Whiplash moustaches, a resemblance to the number eight body shape wise, skinny little legs and feet in those funny Santa's elves slippers. He plopped down in front of the fish tank. With visions of a murderous Mini Me- monster, Dale was about to haul ass when the nut Clarisse walked up to the thing!  "You like that kind better?" In a voice that sounded like Sponge Bob's he turned his head and answered with birthday boy glee, "Oh, most indubitably so, friend Clarisse. I like this better than the admiral's." " Cap'n Crunch." " Yes. I'm not familiar with the military order of ranking having never been... oh! Is this the new Dorothy?" He and Clarisse both turned towards Dale. "Dale, this is Mr. Tubahloopa, and he's come all the way from Oz for our help. Especially yours!" Dale looked between the both of them, then hauled ass screaming up the stairs!