“You better run faster, Bobby, or that turtle’s gonna bite your toes off!” I yelled. Bobby dodged and weaved, trying to capture the snapping turtle without putting his fingers in danger. But his bare feet slid on the dried-up grass, making it hard for him to circle around behind the surprisingly fast animal.
“Shut up, Susannah, and scoot over!” Bobby tried to climb on top of the picnic table where his sister and I were watching the show. The turtle lunged forward, jaws snapping a whisper away from his toes. “Aiee!” he yelled as Barbie pushed him off the table.
“It serves you right for taunting that poor thing! Sheesh! You didn’t have to keep poking at it with sticks.” Barbie said.