"There's A Big Truck In The Garden!"

Jackie and I woke up this morning when we heard Helen, her 92 year old mother, yelling out from the bottom of the stairs;  "Bob, there's a big truck in the garden!"

Jackie hopped out of bed and ran to the window to see what was happening and I threw on my pants and shirt and hustled downstairs.  When I got there I saw Helen in her bedroom, dressed in a bathrobe, holding a cordless phone in her left hand and gesturing toward the window with her right hand.  "Look, do you see it?"

We both go to the window but nothing is out there.  Then we open the door to the back porch, but still nothing.  "Where did it go?" asks Helen.  We go to the living room and look out all the windows and I rush to the kitchen and dinning room to cover that side of the house.  All this time Helen is still clutching onto the cordless phone and I'm wondering what I am going to tell the police in case Helen dialed 911.

Finally, thinking it might have been people from Consumers Power or something I ask; "What kind of truck was it?"  Helen who does not have her hearing aids in cocks her head slightly to the right and says "What?"  Speaking louder this time I ask her what kind of truck was it.  "What?"  I ask again even louder;  "WHAT KIND OF TRUCK WAS IT?"

"Truck?  It wasn't a truck.  It was a big buck (spreading her arms far apart),  with antlers this big.  Jo Ann phoned me when she saw it out by the swing set.  Where did it go?"

I don't know where it went.  I went back upstairs to shower and dress.  It did remind me of the time we lived in the big house and my nephew Ryan, who was about 8 at the time, was playing downstairs.  His mother Joyce hears something, goes to the top of the stairs and yells;  "Ryan, watch your language!"  Ryan yells back;  "I said BUCK!"