While The Quill’s Away …

“Du …”

“yeAAAAACK!!

Geez, dude, did I startle you?”

No, dude, I like putting holes in 20-foot ceilings with my head. Do it all the time. Whaddaya want?

“It’s, um, kinda quiet around here, y’know?”

“Yeah, dude, it was. With OC playin’ with seaweeds or somethin’, and Quilly at her retreat, only thing we had to share this place with was the peace. Which you broke, and I expect you to sweep it up before either one of ’em gets back here and finds out about it.”

“Alright, already, dude. But still …”

“I suppose you’re gonna tell me you miss Quilld … Put that down!!!

“Just one toss …?”

“Dude, she’s on the mainland. The only thing you’re going to hit her with from here is a prayer. And since you haven’t got one … What’s eatin’ you, anyway?”

“Well, dude, you know what they say, don’t you?”

“Who’s they?

“You know. Them. The ones who say that nature hates a vacuum.”

“No wonder, if Nature’s seen the price tags on these things lately. So?”

“So here’s this house sittin’ empty, and here’s this blog sittin’ empty …”

“And you decided to fill ’em up by takin’ ten years off my life and scarin’ all Quilly’s readers away. Nice drivin’, Dale.”

“You’ve got a better idea?”

“Yeah. Straight from Hawai‘i. In pidgin, for pigeons like you.”

“Yeah?”

Try wait.”

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