The man didn’t know who had miscalculated the amount of food to store, him or the boss, but it really didn’t matter at this point. His animals were eating each other to survive.
Trudging through the field behind his house, eight-year-old Harry Cole was as mad as he had ever been.
Lou liked seeing the blinking lights on his desk telephone. It meant people needed his help.
He understood once he saw what was beside his wife’s bowl of Golden Grahams. “It’s in my horoscope, isn’t it?”
Nick Patterson was snoring lightly, forming a trio with his ticking clock and the chirping crickets, when the phone rang.