“I’m always getting set up,” he claimed. “Obviously I’m being framed.”
“Obviously.”
“You believe me, right? You’re cool.”
“I am no such thing!” Josh clasped the notecards to his chest, pretending to be offended. “How dare you, young man? I have never been cool in my life! Have you ever heard anything so preposterous, Mabel?”
Surfer Dude looked confused when Josh pretended to be talking to an invisible old woman.
“Mabel says it’s poppycock,” Josh went on. “We’ve been bosom buddies since the year ought-nine, and in all that time I haven’t touched cool with a ten-foot pole. Ask her yourself.”
Surfer Dude shifted his gaze to where Josh was pointing. There was nobody there, of course. Mabel didn’t exist, but the implication that Josh had some kind of elderly imaginary friend obviously fre
