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The driver alighted to retrieve the boy's rucksack from the luggagecompartment, without a bounce in his step."Which is your's, son?" Erm... what? It's..." He couldn't see his rucksack anywhere. Startledout of his happy mood, he started to panic. "But it must be there, Ileft it right... there. It's gone, someone must have taken it?" I'm afraid I can't help you son, but I can give you the number of thedepot, maybe somebody will return it in."Calum folded the bus ticket with the number on the back, and slid itinto his jeans pocket. Now his absent-mindedness was from struggling tothink what to do, rather than pleasantly whiling away time.He took out his phone and called his Aunt, to let her know he'darrived, and to pick him up from the stop."She'll know what to do," he told himself under his breath.Fifteen minutes passed and Anne pulled up to the kerb, waving andgesturing him into the car.She noticed his lack of luggage as he deposited nothing in the rearseat, and himself in the. I got to work on Bob's size 12'sand was completing the first application by carefully licking the powerfultoe of Bob's huge boot, when the door burst open and Bob came in. As heentered the room he saw my tongue fully extended and moving over the smoothsurface of his boot. "What in the hell are you doing?" Bob asked. As I quickly lowered his boot from my mouth I replied: "I'm shining yourboots." While making this lame excuse my mind was racing, trying to figureout how to cover up what I was really doing. "Shining my boots, like hell. You had that boot in your mouth!" I decided to try salvaging the situation by telling of my recentdiscovery: "Actually, I'm still spit shining your boots, but I have foundthat I can control the amount of spit better by just lightly licking theboot. I'm not really licking it, just putting some spit in the rightplace." As I said this, Bob moved closer to inspect the boot which I was nowresting on my knee. But as he looked at the boot his eyes.
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