Calvin was, as was the norm these days, working on an API for his inventions.
It was currently 2009. Nice year. (He liked 2014 better for its Android version, but parents will notice when you live a non-linear life.)
Susie was currently sitting down on the sofa, putting up with Calvin's incoherent complaints about semicolons and autounboxing. His dad said he was going to make a phone call. Calvin's ears perked up. He grabbed a sheet of paper, sat down next to Susie, and told her to shush.
Now, his dad's phone was of the type that makes a different tone for each number on the dial. Calvin had specifically coded that because it was less boring. It also allowed him to scribble down the number his dad was calling.
Calvin looked down at the number he wrote.
(999) 712-4628.
The number . . . for the kayak rental.
Gripping Susie's hand, he pulled Hobbes's infamous vanishing act.
Hobbes was on the bed defacing comic books (one reason why Calvin downloaded hundreds when he was in 2014) when Calvin and, by extension, Susie rushed in and threw a table against the door.
"Hobbes, I keep telling you not to deface objects of literary value," Calvin groaned.
"I have some important news."
"Should I hide from the new invention you're undoubtedly making?"
"Worse." A dramatic pause. "My dad made a phone call he considered urgent. It was to the kayak rental. And the 11th is in only two days!"
Hobbes pulled the vanishing act.
"Start packing, Susie. Tomorrow we leave."
"What's so significant about the 11th?"
"It's the day every summer we take a week-long "vacation" to a mosquito-infested island."
"Oh." Susie pulled the vanishing act.
Unfortunately, she wasn't quite used to it, and she tripped over her own feet.
"Well, off we go," Calvin said, half-awake and in a very bad mood.
"Calvin?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
