
I’d bought a tent before we’d left the city. I took it upon myself to assemble it, which failed because there was a piece missing. Thank God for Burbank. He’s a MacGyver! He used a stick and some cellotape to prop the back end of the tent up.
We all slept in the tent, me between Lenore and Burbank. Contrary to the weather report, it rained that night. It rained so hard, I woke up in a puddle of water. The tent had collapsed and I thought I was drowning.
“Help! Help!” I screamed before Burbank started shaking me and I remembered where I was. But where was Lenore?
Burbank and I escaped the madness of the tent only to find we’d floated to the edge of the cliff! Five more minutes of sleeping and we’d have been over the edge. In the darkness, I stumbled toward the edge, but Burbank caught my wrist and pulled me to safety. He saved my life again! I must keep a running tally. Perhaps I can compensate him for his heroics at the end of the tour.
We watched the tent float off the cliff and into the ocean. “Lenore!” I started yelling above the rain, but I didn’t hear a response.
Burbank suggested we go back to the car to get a torch. That’s where we found Lenore asleep in the back seat, having moved hours ago due to my snoring.
Dear Burbank,
ReplyDeleteI don’t know where to start with this one. How can a tent staked into the ground float away, especially with people in it? And I’m certainly not taking the fall for trespassing, Mr. Don’t-Worry-It’s-Not-Illegal-We-Do-It-All-The-Time-Here-in-Britain. And as for paying you for heroics that didn’t actually occur, well, you can guess what I have to say.
Incidentally, I do not snore.
--Milo
The part about Lenore moving to the car to sleep for the night rings true; a smart sensible woman, I think. You'd probably be a fool not to marry her.
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