It was the Monday morning after The Texans had collapsed to Andrew Luck and The Colts. I had gone to bed counting money. The early news made me want to puke.
The show had to go on though. I walked 20 minutes uphill to the highway. I rode a Collectivo for another 15 minutes, before embarking on the final 10 minute walk.
I noticed the hole in the yard had been dug deeper than I remembered it being. New to the crime scene was the futon having been shredded like cabbage. Where to begin.
It really is a complicated story. Too weird to explain the situation I put myself in. In fact, it’s not to be believed. It involves a young dog, an old lady, and of course me.
