His large ass now lay in front of me, his limbs hanging down both sides. I pointed Thunder toward the gate and prodded him to speed. I turned my head ...o see a wave of horses coming down on us. I leaned onto my new load and kicked Thunder anew, urging him with my yells. The gatehouse seemed too distant, I had gone too far. I heard my fat man grunting with each of Thunder’s bounds. The sound of the horses, and the yells of their riders was nearer than I hoped. I gritted my teeth, and did all I. He stuck his nose back in the newspaper. Reading it was something he did everyday. A small article tucked away on page ten grabbed Moe by the shirt collar and jerked him back to his reality. Maxwell Singer, prominent business owner of Singer’s, was found dead yesterday morning. Apparent cause of death: natural causes. Singer wasn’t a fit man, but the timing of his death beat the door down on coincidence. The piece went on: Mr. Singer had taken his lunch per his usual routine, according to shop. More

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