Yeah, well, Ma didn't know the bald guy on the deck, I guess, a stranger. There he sat, still as death, right in our way. It's our thing to run up and down the water's edge looking for stuff, you know, and every night it's the same thing until this guy comes along and just sits there like Gibraltar. Once in a while, some little beep comes from that digital of his, and ma about has a kid, you know. We turn around, chomp down some weeds. Ma figures we wait the old fart out.
And then what happens is those beanbrain cousins of ours show up right behind us, so all of a sudden there's more wood ducks than you can shake a stick at--a traffic jam right out front of the Maples.
Ma just says she just didn't trust the guy, so all of us just hang around and hang around till it got too dark for that camera and the old guy finally left.
Who knows?--maybe I'll be a star.
Ma says, don't be an idiot.