Not long before lunch, a group attacked our motor home. They did not knock, just rushed in, and at first glance, I thought we had been invaded by terrorists, but when I voiced my concerns aloud to Jerry, one of them responded. “No Granny, we’re not terrorists; we’re ninja’s.” We do good things they had told me, but I did note each of them carried long wide swords. Come to think of it, earlier I believe I had seen these same ones dashing about the bushes here on Steve’s property.
“No, Granny,” he solemnly responded.