“While we’re away for the weekend, maybe you could clean out the garage,” Eugene’s dad told him. “Drain the oil from that old lawn mower and put it out on the road for the garbage man. Then box up all those old magazines in the attic.”

“All by myself?”

“I suppose you could enlist some of your friends to help,” Eugene’s mom told him.

Early Saturday morning, not long after Eugene’s parents had left, Allie arrived.

“Before we start with the cleanup, how about breakfast?” Eugene asked. “Scrambled eggs with mushrooms okay?”

“I love mushrooms,” Allie said. “What can I do to help?”

“I guess you could wash the mushrooms and chop them,” Eugene said. “I’ll crack the eggs and start the toast.”

“You know mushrooms are better if you don’t wash them,” Allie told Eugene. “You use a mushroom brush and brush them.”

“I don’t think we have a mushroom brush,” Eugene said.

“Then I suppose we’ll have to make do,” Allie said. “Look at the size of this one.” She held it up. “You know, mushrooms look a lot like penises, or so I’ve been told.”