Episode Fourteen: Apparently Everything is Quin’s Fault

Hello one and all! I hope that you’re doing as well as I am, or maybe even better! This Thursday I would like to try to do a little Q&A session. I get lots of email asking for details about myself and the characters in the blog, so it might be fun to answer some of your questions in a post! Please email your questions to alsothemadhairman@gmail.com, and I’ll answer them for you this Thursday. Take care, and God bless. –BW

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The little balls of ice from the sky pelted the people behind the gas station, pelting them like cold bee stings. Everyone immediately took refuge inside the gas station, where the sound of the hailstorm sounded as fierce as a mama bear deprived of her cubs.

This is all your fault, Charles.” Mother Brownfield said.

What? How?” Mr. Brownfield cried. “How can I be responsible for hail? It’s nothing more than bits of ice caught in cloud contained supercooled water which falls out of the cloud and is blown back in by updrafts, thereby . . . .”

I don’t mean the hail, you dope. You are responsible for your family being stranded at a gas station during a hailstorm. If you hadn’t broken the van, all of you would be inside nice and warm where you belong.”

I don’t think anyone belongs in a minivan.” Sandy contradicted.

Don’t interrupt me when I’m yelling at your father, dear.” Mother Brownfield chastened.

I don’t believe this!” Mr. Brownfield screamed. “This is not my fault. Blame Quin!”

Who the dickens is Quin?” Mother Brownfield cried. “Is he your imaginary friend?”

That was Quincy, mother. I haven’t played with Quincy since I was five. Quin is the hitchhiker I picked up.”

Quin raised his hand into the air.

That would be me.”

Like furious hen ruffling her feathers, Mother Brownfield’s hair suddenly quivered with rage.

You picked up a filthy hitchhiker when traveling on vacation with your family? That is the peak of foolishness, Charles. How dare you endanger the lives and happiness of your family?”

None of this is my fault!” Charles Brownfield said. “Everything can be blamed on Quin.”

The girl at the cash register spoke up.

That’s not very nice.” she said. “He seems like a nice guy to me.”

Thank you.” Quin said.

The girl shrugged.

. . . . If you happen to like nice guys, I suppose.” she added.

I don’t know whether to thank you for that, but I do anyway.”

I think he’s a nice guy too.” piped in a voice from the chip aisle.

Mr. Brownfield strained neck to see who spoke.

Who are you?” he asked.

The man waved. He was a cabbie.

I’m a cabbie.” he said.

How could you possibly know Quin?” Mr. Brownfield asked.

I let him ride in the trunk of my cab one time in San Francisco.” the cabbie said. “No, that’s wrong. It was twice. Maybe three times.”

Thanks for reading folks! Continue to visit here, every Tuesday and Saturday!

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