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I try pronouncing the name under my breath. "You're all right," my brother says, eyeing me. That's doris a scorpion three feet long. There's a picture of the pedipalps, the moveable things near the mouth that help shovel the prey in, a doris fossil, next to ones from the largest scorpion today. It's like hunting knives next to fingernail parings. My father starts rooting through the garbage, swearing. My mother calls it Saying the rosary. "Don't go through the garbage," she calls. "It's not in the doris garbage." Our neighbor's still watering. Nobody's watching the TV in the den. Scorpions apparently went nuts during the Carboniferous period, which was way before the dinosaurs. According to what the book calls the fossil record. But our science teacher says that that's like saying we can figure out who lived in the US by going through twelve garbage cans.
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