They're arguing about whether to rip a bigger hole in the fence with their hands or climb over.
Once they decide, I'm dingo bait.
I need a hiding place, Doug.
That's the problemwith living in a town with only seven shops, one pub, one bank, one service station and no thick forests.
There aren't many good places to hide.
The safe in the bank'd be good, but it's Sunday.
Even if it wasn't, Mum and Dad work there and I wouldn't want to aggravate Dad's stress rash.
It'll have to be the Memorial Park.
Hope my legs can make it.
This town's so remote, even if the Malleys only manage to inflict surface injuries I'll probably still cark it before the air ambulance arrives. Now I'm up a tree and I can catch my breath, a thought's just hit me.
