And now the family was on the move, moving across country, through all the places of fine and upstanding neighbors. In one of these neighborhoods you threw a little firecracker out the window and it exploded with a great pop in mid-air. The police were called and told you it was a four hundred dollar fine to set off firecrackers in that neighborhood, but he might let you off if you all agreed to obey the fine upstanding neighbors in every detail of how to eat and get gas and where to stop every time you went there. Of course you were very penitent, and you didn't want any trouble so you agreed. And of course your whole family blamed you for the incident, though the police officer never asked just who set off the firecracker. And one day you will stop and say, "I will not weave any more absurd little stories," but your brain will go on and on weaving absurd little stories against your will, until you say, "Certainly I am drowning in absurd little stories," and you will hear someone laugh an inhuman laugh off in the distance, so that you may know your tormentor (and your tormentor is inhuman).