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LAST NAMES
DAY TWO (Part Three):
The Merciless Stampede of Tuesday.
“Do we really have to go to a rodeo tonight? Can’t we just blow it off and watch TV?”
“That would be rude,” Dad emphasizes.
“No, I’d say ramming our van and trapping us here is significantly more rude,” I charge.
“It was an accident.”
“You sure about that? A mysterious clown just happens to pop up out of nowhere? He could be a highly paid, badly dressed hit man, and this could all be part of a grander plan. One that we’re only scratching the surface of. That’s why I’m in the ‘mafia chair,’ casing the door. You’d be smart to do the same, because once I duck, I may or may not be able to save you.”
After the boundless fun of our shopping binge, Dad and I now sit in the café part of Walmart, drinking sodas (or “pop
