I'm not 90. That's a lie. I don't know how old I am. I don't know where I am. I'm not in Horton's Bay. I drifted down river. I'm hiding on the shore of a cove, breathing through a straw. Pretty soon I will get out of the water and dry off, eat some berries. They're looking for me. I hear bloodhounds. I hope they feed me scrambled eggs when they take me in .