Have you ever played Jungle King? It’s a computer game, and it’s really cool. Unless you sink into a quicksand pit or get squeezed to death by the Living Vines.

You’ve got to be fast to swing from vine to vine without letting them curl around your body. And to grab the shrunken heads that are hidden under trees and bushes.

If you collect ten shrunken heads, you get an extra life. You need a lot of extra lives in this game. It’s not for beginners.

My friends Eric and Joel play Jungle King with me. They are twelve, like me. My sister Jessica is eight. She hangs around, but we don’t let her play. That’s because she always dives into the quicksand pits. She likes the thwuck thwuck thwuck sound it makes when your body is being sucked under.

Jessica just doesn’t get it.

“Mark, why can’t we play a different game?” Joel asked me.

I knew why he wanted to quit. He had just been trampled by a red rhino, the meanest kind.

Joel, Eric, and I were up in my room during our winter break from school, huddled around my computer. Jessica was on the window seat, reading a book. Sunlight poured over her, making her red hair sparkle.

“Kah-lee-ah!” I shouted as I picked up my eighth shrunken head. Kah-lee-ah is my jungle cry. It’s a word that popped into my head one day. I guess I made it up.

My face was two inches from the monitor screen. I ducked as spears came flying at me from behind a leafy fern.

“Kah-lee-ah!” I let out my battle cry as I picked up another shrunken head.

“Come on, Mark,” Eric pleaded. “Don’t you have any other games?”

“Yeah. Don’t you have any sports games?” Joel demanded. “How about March Madness Basketball? That’s a cool game!”

“How about Mutant Football?” Eric asked.

“I like this game,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the screen.

Why do I like Jungle King so much? I think it’s because I love swinging from vine to vine across the sky.

You see, I’m a little chubby. Actually, I’m short and chubby. I’m built sort of like the red rhinos. And so I guess I like being able to swing so lightly, to fly above the ground like a bird.

Also, it’s an awesome game.

Joel and Eric don’t like it because I always win. In our first game this afternoon, an alligator chewed Joel in half. I think that put him in a bad mood.

“Do you know what game my dad bought me?” Joel asked. “Battle Solitaire.”

I leaned closer to the screen. I had to get past the biggest quicksand pit. One slip, and I’d be sucked into the sandy slime.

“What kind of game is that?” Eric asked Joel.

“It’s a card game,” Joel told him. “You know. Solitaire. Only the cards fight each other.”

“Cool,” Eric replied.

“Hey, guys—I’m in a tough spot here,” I said. “Give me a break, okay? I’ve got to concentrate. I’m right over the quicksand pit.”

“But we don’t want to play anymore,” Eric complained.

I grabbed a vine. Swung hard. Then reached for the next one.

And someone bumped my shoulder. “Owww!”

I saw a flash of red hair and knew it was Jessica. She bumped me again and giggled.

I watched myself tumbling down on the screen. Sucked into the bottomless slime pit.

Thwuck thwuck thwuck. I died.

I spun around angrily. “Jessica—!”

“My turn!” She grinned at me, her wide, toothy grin.

“Now we have to start all over again!” I announced.

“No way,” Eric protested. “I’m going home.”

“Me, too,” Joel said, pulling his baseball cap lower on his forehead.

“One more game!” I pleaded.

“Come on, Mark. Let’s go outside,” Joel said, pointing to the bright sunshine pouring through the bedroom window.

“Yeah. It’s a great day out. Let’s throw a Frisbee or something,” Eric suggested. “Or get our skateboards.”

“One more game. Then we’ll go outside,” I insisted.

I watched them head out the door.

I really didn’t want to leave the jungle. I don’t know why I like jungles so much. But I’ve been really into jungles since I was a teeny kid.

I like to watch all the old jungle movies on TV. And when we were little, I used to pretend I was Tarzan, King of the Jungle. Jessica always wanted to play, too. So I let her be Cheetah, my talking chimpanzee.

She was very good at it.

But after she was six or seven, Jessica refused to be a chimp anymore. She became a full-time pest instead.

“I’ll play Jungle King with you, Mark,” she offered, after my two friends left.

“No way,” I replied, shaking my head. “You just want to take a dive into the quicksand pit.”

“No. I’ll play it right,” she promised. “I’ll try to win this time. Really.”

I was about to let her play when the doorbell rang downstairs.

“Is Mom home?” I asked, listening for her footsteps.

“I think she’s in the backyard,” Jessica replied.

So I hurried downstairs to answer the front door. Maybe Eric and Joel changed their minds, I thought. Maybe they’ve come back for another round of Jungle King.

I pulled open the front door.

And stared at the grossest thing I ever saw in my life.