“So, Larry went down for some food and water.” He exhaled the smoke as he continued. “There must have been a few still in the house. Larry came charging up the ladder screaming bloody murder, two of those things hot on his heels.” He took another drag. “So there we were us at the top of a ladder we couldn’t pull, and them at bottom of the same ladder they couldn’t climb. It was like a Mexican stand-off, except their moaning must have been attracting more. Soon there were like ten in my garage reaching and clawing to get to us.” “So how the hell did you guys end up on the roof?” asked Mike. “Oh, it was dad’s best idea ever,” interjected Larry. “We had an old fan in the attic. You know the kind on a stand that spins in a little half-circle. We used that to scrape a hole in the wood of the roof. We just climbed through hoping to flag down some help like a couple of flood victims.”
