I hold a small wooden box lined with cotton. Inside are some large jumping beans and squiggling baby horny toads. Actually, the horny toads may be tiny babies with tails. It is difficult to keep them all inside the box. My parents look on and chuckle. "They found that on the murder victim. Where do you suppose they found this?", my dad asks ominously as he holds up a piece of broken board with dried blood on it. My stomach drops. Although I can’t remember, I’m sure I must be involved. I look at the victim’s fishing license application. He has chosen to write in general rather than specific terms his desired locations: "..streams, brooks, lakes, and seas."
Rowdy’s Dream Blog #172: Streams, Brooks, Lakes, And Seas.
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