Perelle was right in front of her own house when she met Rochelle, which was weird because she had a lawn and driveway extending fourty feet in front of her house. But Rochelle was that type of person who always starts a conversation and then leaves without discussing whatever weird thing she was doing (in this case, leading a zebra-striped donkey with a barrel of orange juice strapped on its back through Perelle’s lawn).
She started with “Hi, what are you doing out this late? You don’t have a date with the illui from Stamford this late, do you?”
“No, I’m just going to the barn to check on the kids.” Perelle replied, forgetting for a moment that Rochelle wasn’t supposed to be there.
“You have a barn? And kids? And what are the kids doing in the barn?”
“Uh, they live there? And I really need to go to sleep.”
Rochelle continued on her way, wondering if she should call child protective services. Who keeps innocent baby animals in a barn? (Actually, almost everyone who has baby animals. But Rochelle doesn’t know that.)
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