I accompanied my dad while he went Christmas shopping for my brothers at "Cabela's, the world's foremost hunting outfitter." Hunting is not exactly my cup of tea. It was not fun to spend five hours there.

1:00
Dad looks at BB guns. I wait.

2:00
Dad looks at air soft guns. I wait some more.

3:00
Dad looks at rifles. I wait even more.

4:00

Once upon a time there lived a boy named Michael Grant, who was the youngest of three children. He was ten years old, and his two oldest sisters were sixteen, and twelve; their names were Philomena and Edith. He had a mother and father, whose names were Marie and Luke Grant. Michael also had a Saint Bernard dog, who was two and a half years old.

The smog of the city faded and finally died off completely as my carriage rattled onward into the countryside. Finally, it ground to a shaky halt in the middle of a rambling collection of shacks and shanties. I emerged with confidence and determinedly sunk my feet into several inches of deep mud, courtesy of the previous evening’s rain.