The Case of the Swirling Killer Tornado by John R. Erickson Page A

say, and tried to bring Drover’s folks into the fracas . . . Drover’s face into focus, actually.
    Perhaps I had dozed, but not deeply and not for long. I tried to bring Drover’s face into focus. “Did you just say that your leg heard a sound?”
    â€œNo, I said that my leg hurts but my ears heard a sound.”
    â€œOkay, that checks out. There for a minute, I thought . . . where are we, Drover?”
    â€œWell, I think we’re under the gas tanks, and I think you woke up for a minute and fell asleep again.”
    â€œHa, ha. I don’t think so. No, I was just planning out the day’s agenda.”
    â€œYeah, but it’s the middle of the night.”
    â€œExactly. That’s what I mean. No problem.” I pushed myself up on all fours and shook the vapors out of my head. “Where did you say we were?”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œRight now, you tuna.”
    â€œWell, under the gas tanks . . . I guess.”
    â€œYes, of course. Good. We’re right on schedule. I had scheduled a meeting here under the, uh, gas tanks. Do you know the purpose of this meeting?”
    â€œWell, let’s see.” He rolled his eyes. “You wanted to hear my new song?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI wrote a song. In my sleep. While I was asleep, I thought of this song, just kind of dreamed it up out of nowhere.”
    I stared at the runt. “You wrote a song in your sleep? That sounds crazy, Drover. In the first place, you don’t even sing. I mean, dogs who don’t sing don’t write songs.”
    â€œYeah, I know, but I did, I really did. It came to me in a dream. It’s about tornadoes.”
    â€œOh brother. In the middle of the night, you’re composing a song about tornadoes?”
    â€œYeah, you want to hear it? I’d better do it pretty quick or I’ll forget it.”
    â€œAnd that would be a tragedy, I suppose.”
    â€œYeah, ’cause I never wrote a song before.”
    â€œYou already said that.”
    â€œI’m kind of proud of it.”
    â€œYes, of course.” I yawned. “Okay, let’s hear it. Might as well get it over with.”
    â€œOh good! But I don’t know what key it’s in.”
    â€œJust sing the song, Drover, and let’s get on to something else.”
    â€œOkay. Here I go.”
    In case you’re interested, here’s the song.
    Drover’s Tornado Safety Song
    Never ever bark at a funnel-shaped cloud
    If it’s spinning in a circle and roaring real loud.
    See, it could be a monster or a goblin or a spook
    Or something else entirely worse that mightn’t turn you loose.
    Turn me loose, turn me loose, I’m as silly as a goose
    For barking at a thing that’s bigger than a moose.
    If you bark up a storm, then one might appear,
    You’ll get an education, and knocked on your rear.
    On your rear, on your rear, on your hiniest rear,
    It’ll knock you on your can and stand you on your ear.
    Spin you in a circle and circle all around,
    You’ll fly through the air and skid across the ground.
    Cross the ground, cross the ground, cross the cold hard ground,
    You’ll lose a lot of sleep and hair by the pound.
    There’s quite a bit of difference ’tween a storm and a frog.
    A storm doesn’t have much fear of a dog.
    Here’s the moral to the story of the funnel-shaped cloud
    That’s spinning in a circle and roaring real loud.
    If you bite a big tornado it’ll probably give you hiccups
    So take this piece of good advice: go back to barkin’ pickups.
    He finished the song and sat there, grinning and waiting for me to say something. “What do you think? Tell me the truth.”
    â€œWhat do I think? Well . . . it’s a song, Drover, we can’t deny that. I mean, it has words and sort of a melody.”
    â€œYeah, but do you like it? I thought it had a pretty deep message: stay away from tornadoes. I guess you could say