Hick is nothing if not timely in his shenanigans. He left for Goodwill on Sunday evening, and was a bit secretive upon return. By secretive, I mean that he did not come up the driveway and park his 1980 Olds Toronado back under the carport where it's been taking up The Pony's rightful parking space since its construction. No. I guess he thought he could avoid my prying eyes. Ain't no way to hide my prying eyes. The Eagles were going to do a song about them, but switched the lyrics at the last minute.
Anyhoo...I was sitting on the front porch pew post-walk, watching Puppy Jack and my Sweet, Sweet Juno frolic in the front yard as the sun sank behind the trees lining the row of sinkholes. In the same instant, both dogs ceased their scuffling, and sat up. Looked toward the gravel road. And took off barking toward the BARn field. I heard tires on gravel, and waited for Hick to come up the driveway. A few minutes later, I saw movement through the treeline. He had turned into the BARn field (let the record show that there is NOT a road there, only a shallow ditch to drive through, and grass) and coasted down the slope to park in front of the BARn. Huh.
After a while, Hick turned the Toronado around and went back up through the field, then to the driveway, and down it to park under the carport. He walked over his brick sidewalk to join me on the porch.
"What were you hiding?"
"I wasn't hiding nothing."
"Why did you go to the BARn?"
"So I didn't have to carry my stuff over there."
"What did you get at Goodwill that you didn't want me to see?"
"Nothing. Alls I got was this:"
"What even IS that?"
"It's a clown! A clown on a tricycle!"
"A clown? What's that Russian hat for?"
"That flaps up and spins around when he rides the tricycle."
Whatever. It doesn't look like a clown to me. And it doesn't look like it would be very heavy to carry over to the BARn.