“”You’ve gotta move,” I’d shout above the roar, I don’t know how loud since I wore good ear-covers. No problem, apparently, after a few of those rocking-horse staggers like they do, just barely out of my path. “You’re gonna get sprayed!” Mulched clippings shot from under the machine, but that only happened once. Henny-Penny always foraged on the safe side after that.”
Continue reading “Peepers by Chris Dungey”
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