Another Post I Wish I Could Remember (Thanks, B. Stover)
Way deep in the cave, the sounds of the rat scurrying away in the darkness, and then – what was that? A very strange feeling, like I wasn’t moving but the earth under me was. I hate feelings like that – being on an elevator, for example, or even worse, an escalator. The escalator thing happened only once, perhaps a story for another time. Because right now the earth was moving under my feet, and then came this quiet boom.
“Chet! Run!” I turned, saw Bernie’s form framed in the opening of the cave. A rock fell from above, glanced off my tail. “Come on, Chet! Run!” I’m a good runner. I ran toward Bernie. Then came another boom, this one huge, and the next thing I knew we were rolling on the ground outside the cave, me and Bernie, dust boiling all around us.
We got up, looked back. The cliff was still there but the hole was gone. There were just rocks, piles and piles of them. Then I noticed one other thing. That big flat metal can, shaped like a Frisbee? I seemed to have it in my mouth.
Elvis gospel: Have a good Sunday, everybody! (Next Sunday – Spencer Quinn at the Martha’s Vineyard Book Festival.)
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