He knows I'm after him. He sits there, reading about pack animals on the Web, and he fears to click on the HNI link. As soon as he pops his shiny head up, pow, I take a rhetorical pot shot. He backs off and reformulates his plan, and bam, a teeth-rattlingburst ofverbal fire. Now he's on his feet anddesperate for a way out. He can try to lie low, but I'm get to him sooner or later.
Big Duane's Lying Low
