“What should I fix, dude?” He always talked to Frosty as though he was human. “Whatever it is, it can’t be beans!” he laughed to himself. �...That’d be a show stopper, wouldn’t it?” Frosty wagged his tail and followed Pete around the kitchen as he cleaned it up and planned his menu. He had Cornish game hens, and white wine. “Perfecto!” he kissed the tips of his fingers opened his palm wide with his fingers extended. “A little sage to season, some hot rolls, and asparagus... Oh yeah!” ooOoo Tara. What the hell was he looking for, anyway?Secrets? Hidden trapdoors? Ha! This phony hut was just one more roadside tourist trap. A waste of time.Charlie thought he heard a voice echoing in the distance. Was someone singing?Outside. There was someone outside. In the bright moonlight, a woman was dancing. Dancing and singing.He cautiously edged out the doorway. It was a young girl, her long tresses flying above her narrow hips as she twirled, her face savagely alight with the joy of her song. A. More

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