“It was the strangest thing.” Christina Moore held her phone up to her ear as she busied herself in the kitchen. “James said that the dog walked on its hind legs and called itself Kumokum. Then it bit James on the rump. I don’t know why he’d make something like that up.”
“I hate to say it, Christina, but is James on drugs?” Sally shook her head on the other side of the phone call, worried for her friend. “Maybe Henry should have a talk with him.”
“No way.” Christina smiled at the thought of her sweet, eighteen-year-old son on drugs. “He’s a mathlete that still plays those silly boardgames with his friends. Now that I think about it, maybe he’s just making up a story to deal with a traumatic situation.”
“A bite on the butt doesn’t sound too traumatic.” Sally didn’t want to give up the drug angle. She knew about kids these days.
“Well, the poor dog ran right out in front of a car and got run over after biting him. That’s how we know it didn’t have rabies, Henry took the dog in to get checked.” Christina looked at her watch, it was late, and she needed to check in with James before bedtime.