That afternoon, the car-house nestled into a slot in a perfect little village with a laundry room that took coins from regular people. Mom gathered up the wad of sopping, stinky laundry, wrapped it in a towel, and threw it over her shoulder like a hobo in an old cartoon. She left me to watch the car-house while she followed her dreams of suds and clean socks.
She came back with the Witch in her hand, a towel on her head, and a smile almost as big as a Walmart on her face. "You'll never guess who's just up the road!"
This is my favorite game. "Bark Wahlberg!
"Snoop Dogg!
"Yoko Bone-o!
"Brad Pittbull!
"Doggy Howser! Or is it pronounced Doggy Schnauzer? I always forget."
"Your sister, Bodie!" Mom said, like I'd won the gameshow without the right answer. "They're on their way back from camping in the Rockies and just so happened to stop right up the road in a town called Hot Springs. It's only..."
She held the Witch up to her mouth like gameshow host's microphone. "How far away is Spencer Hot Springs, Nevada?"
"Spencer Hot Springs is one hundred and thirty-six miles away. Traffic is light. I expect it will take two hours and six minutes," the Witch announced.