An unexpected bungee jump
After Lana cleaned up from tipping over the birdbath, I turned my attention back to the underground antenna project that part of our science class was working on. There was an improved incentive too; as a large mining concern had expressed interest in helping to fund the venture. After a few hours of medium progress, I stepped outdoors for some fresh air and saw that Lana’s pink Porsche was gone. I had told her that she could stay over, but would have to use the guest room, as I needed some splendid isolation to focus properly.
Lana probably took this the wrong way, in light of the recent conversation we had about our old feelings racing back toward each other. However, as always, work came first for me, and this newfangled communications project was promising. While outside, I noticed that the porch light wasn’t actually burned out, but that somebody had unscrewed it and tucked it into an old robin’s nest. That was odd enough, but then in the reflection of the obsidian mirror sundial, I saw some items scattered about, presumably from Lana’s satchel, when she took her spill. Leaning over to pick them up, I found a map with Amy’s house circled in red. Why would Lana need that? Suddenly, the thought crossed my mind that I should have presented Amy a pendulum with a more robust rock, or better yet some nunchucks. I hastily tried to ring Amy, but it went straight to voicemail.
I meditated for a moment and tried to conjure up some remote viewing powers. What I could see didn’t look good, so I rushed the pantechnivan over to Amy’s. Lana’s pink Porsche was parked by Amy’s driveway at the end of a long set of skid marks. Through the upstairs bay window, the action appeared chaotic; however I could only see one shadow. Insistently, I rang the bell, and pounded on the front door, but to no avail. I circled the perimeter to find every door locked tight. Meanwhile, the clamor from upstairs continued unabated.
Returning to the van, I macgyvered what was there, affixing a rope ladder to the house from a bungee-cord web. As an early season frost set in, I clambered up the makeshift ladder, trying to gain a grasp on the gutter. It was too slick though and I slipped off the edge. The bungee cord caught me and there I was, stuck dangling from my ankle, bouncing in Amy’s courtyard. Right then a police car screamed in and shined his bubblegum lights all over the place. Then through the loudspeaker, a sturdy voice demanded, “Freeze up right there Max Rudolph! This is your sheriff, Wilt Fleming!”
About the author: Although the speed limit has been reduced to 15 or 20 in many Hailey neighborhoods, the last time