“No Way”
most frightful freckles- hand-drawn portrait of the Hamburglar
- spreading rumors about him
- Deeper is only better in oil wells and sword thrusts, my friend
- the single hockey puck we own
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“No way,” I said to John, bracing to keep him from shifting me aside. I heard the wood creak as he renewed his efforts to barge in. Soon none of us would have any shelter from the weather.
“What would your old gang think?” I grunted. “Doing them proud, wrestling to enter an outhouse where you’re not welcome.”
John scowled at me, but he relented. The gang I was referring to was the “frightful freckles” and as far as he knew only Jason was aware he’d ever been one. But like most frightful freckles, he had his photo tacked up in the post office between a hand-drawn portrait of the Hamburglar and a public notice from some public nuisance threatening a lawsuit if the Freemasons don’t stop spreading rumors about him.
During my vivid recollections, John ducked under my arm and managed to cram himself inside the crowded structure. His face ended up poised over the bowl. “Careful,” I said, laughing, “that looks pretty deep.”
His reply resonated underfoot. “Deeper is only better in oil wells and sword thrusts, my friend.” He tried to straighten up but was pinned under my arm and Tessa’s left leg.
I couldn’t stop laughing. “While you’re looking around in there,” I spluttered, “see if you spot the single hockey puck we own!”
bonus points for using them in order