Alvin and Brittany: Just a Dream

I Was Thinking About You

Alvin

Life has been strange.

Like how my brothers and I were, apparently, the only chipmunks that were able to talk with humans. Like how we could sing crazily good...seriously! Like how we are "residing" in Dave's house (in LA) as his adopted children ever since he found us in the woods. Like how, despite our overwhelming abilities to sing, for the "sake of our childhood," everyone but I didn't want us to go big...at least yet. Like how us talking chipmunks were able to join a human high school on one condition: we join the school band. Sick! Everything I could ever want: girls, music, and parties! Yet, in my heart, I knew one thing was missing.

Dreams have been strange.

Like how at ten years old, a few months after I became Dave's adoptive son, I began to have dreams. Like how they would always have the same person in it, the same chipmunk in it. Like how it was a dream, yet felt oh so different from one. Like how it was like living another life at night, one free of worries. I knew her; I had a connection with her. She knew me, I think even better than I know myself. If only I knew how to find that special chipmunk.

"Alvin, what are you doing now?"

I dropped my pen with a sigh and, in the process, turned around to see my brother. My smart yet idiotic brother. If you couldn't tell, which I know you already have, it was Simon.

"I ain't doin' nothing," I frustratedly replied, "but writing in my journal."

Simon took a look over my shoulder, so I shut the book in a hurry. Unfortunately, however, I thought he might have seen it, so I got up, off my desk, and threw the book into a nearby drawer. Afterward, I turned to my brother.

"Wow!"-Simon faked a shocked expression-"You know how to write?"

I rolled my eyes, wishing he would just leave. "Si, I know very well how to write."

He eyed me questionably, but I guess he decided to take another route. He began laughing, and once he seemed to nearly stop his laughing, he would start back up again. Once he put his hand over his mouth, that was it for me.

"And just what are you laughing at?!"

He pointed to me, then the pen, then the drawer that contained my book, then back to me. I guess this is what it's like to have brothers...

"That you, Alvin Seville, have a"-Simon was interpreted by a chuckle from himself-"a diary."

"So do you!"

He shook his head. "No, no, no...It's a scientific journal for my experiments."

"But you know I'm just teasing you," he sighed, which, like a true brother, he had been. "Seriously though, what are you writing about?"

"Well, remember when me and Theodore went to-"

"Theodore and I," Mr. Big Brain corrected.

"Yeah, yeah. When me and Theodore went to Staples to get more printer paper?"

When he nodded, I continued, "While checking out, I saw this journal on sale for only 3 bucks. Figured I'd pick it up."

He eyed me, as if he knew I avoided the question on purpose. "Can I read a page?"

Yup, absolutely he knew.

"I think you won't like it."

He eyed me narrowly. "And why not?"