The meaning of life on a fall night

1 Nov

mreuther

Professor Fred Moran peered into the darkness of the woods. The rustling sound from deep in the forest had faded.
“Hell-o-o-o-o … ” he yelled rather tentatively.
“Forget it Fred. The bear is gone.”
“Bear? Who said anything about a bear?” Moran lowered his trusty cane, Misty Blue and came back to the campfire where Ritter and Reuther were huddled, their faces aglow from the flames.
“I suppose the Penumbra State Spy Network is out there again,” Reuther said.
“Yeah,” chortled Ritter. “Out to track down Fred and his stolen manuscripts.”
“Real cloak and dagger dangerous missions,” laughed Reuther
Moran took two steps forward and pointed a finger at them. “Now that’s enough right there.”
“Aw lighten up Fred,” Reuther said. “The days of cold war literary espionage are gone.”
“Quite right,” said Ritter, pulling out his pipe and his pouch of tobacco. “They want to steal your stuff they…

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