The Plymouth‘s Poulty Truck pulls into Bascoms’ and squeals to a stop. Evelyn pops out, “Hi Sam, Pawp sent me in with that order of pen-free eggs you phoned on.”
Greg MacIntyre dismounts from the passenger side, “Where do you want me to put these?” he asks.
I slide down out of the bed and clear out some chicken feathers, “Sptthhhhh!” I cear my mouth.
“I think he’s around back,” Evelyn says with a laugh.
“Funny, seein’ the two of you back here ,” Greg MacIntyre comments.
“You’re telling me,’ Ernie declares, ‘There I was trying to get the Emergency fund back to saftety when I here this unhuman howling and ll this crashing through the thickets going on.”
‘A Mad Dan’l, Really?” Ernie gasps, “Man, was I in trouble!”
“Yes, it was a good thing that I found you Ernie when I did,’ the Weenrman comments, “I heard the Mad Dan’l ranting in the thicket and realized that I had to locate you as rapidly as possible and then to evacuate the Township Outback while there was still time.”
“I’m sure glad you came when you did,” Ernie agrees, “From the noise it was making, one of those Mad Dan’ls have to be a terrible thing!”
Greg grins laconically, and tips his hat back, “so you were so deep in the thicket and needed to escape in a hurry, tell me, how did you make it back to HicksTown so fast?”
“The Weeenrman caught the scent of frying chicken in the air,” Ernie announces.
“Tjhe Burdock always fries chicken on Monday ,” the Weenerman shrugs.
Ernie goes on, “And so it was merely a matter of following the Weeenermna’s super-sniffer all the way back to town.”
“A can’t miss plan,’ I agree.
“You are right asbout that,” HM WeenerMan remarks as he finishes off a drum-stick.
Sam Bascom comes out of the Merchantile with another six-pack of good pop and a carton of drum-sticks.
“About the Emergency Fund,” I start to ask.
You have not a thing to worry about,” the WeenerMan reassures me, “Me nd Ernie here have put it someplace that nasty ol’ Mad Dan’l will never get find it,” and Hm smiles broadly as he pats his belly.
“You betcha,” Ernie bobs his head eagerly.
Greg mcIntyre walks over, “So any luck with the Emergency Fund?” he asks.
“Nope,” I smirk, “But at least I now where it went.”
“To a good cause,” HM Weenermanstates satisfingly patting his tummy.