At some point, I’m going to learn to think before I act or speak. I imagine it will be on my deathbed where I weigh, very carefully, my final words so that I die sounding profound instead of one of those people who say something like, “Can emus fly?” before they enter the great beyond.
Apparently, however, my consideration skills were not in play in the barn that day because as soon as I heard a car approaching, I ran out and started waving my arms as if the people coming to get us wouldn’t know where to come or couldn’t, perhaps, see the giant barn on the barren stretch of field. I was just so excited.
Until I saw the faces in the front seat of the car and realized it was Hans and Greg, who had apparently weaseled his way free even without bail. By that time, they were close enough not
