John Denison

Grandma had managed to get up on Spirit. The trouble was she was facing the wrong way.

His grandmother was sitting at Thelma’s kitchen table drinking hot chocolate. There was a cup for him and the plate of peanut butter cookies had been ravaged.

Mr. Hearn shook his head. All of this made about as much sense as a trout in a rain barrel. “What are you kids doing out here anyway?”