The Case of the Blazing Sky. John R. Erickson

eating the very chickens we have sworn an oath to protect.

      Slurp.

      How absurd. You would never believe such a pack of lies, right? Thanks. I knew you wouldn’t. These rumors are started by our enemies, you know. Yes. They scheme day and night on ways to weaken our security systems, planting their poisoned seeds that grow into . . . something. Poison oak trees, I suppose.

      And speaking of schemers, speaking of letting the cat out of the sandbox, would you like to guess who showed up at the very moment that I was . . . well, at the very moment that I was absolutely no-way thinking about chicken dinners?

      Mister Kitty Moocher. Mister Never Sweat. Mister Loaf in the Iris Patch. Pete the Barncat.