Chapter Fifteen
The Portable Chimney
Wet kindling is as useful as dry lips
For a week, George mulled, stewed, and huffed. He had tried to be nice, tried to communicate, but the megaphone . . . she’d taken it too far. Action rather than talk was needed.
He called an emergency rehearsal.
George was up at the crack of dawn and headed for the hall to prepare the “wolf meets grandma” scene. He planned a chase scene, a chorus, and a real fire in one of those fancy portable chimneys—to “knock her friggin’ socks off”—and was in the middle of setting the fire when the cast dribbled in with confused looks. They huddled behind Granny’s Soup Kitchen, each hoping the other knew what to do.
“He wants us to chase around a fire,” said the wolf.
“With this on,” Red Riding Hood said, gesturing to her
