“Todd.”

“Todd. You OK man?â€?

A ten piece orchestra of percussionists played violently in Todd’s head. “Ugh. What the hell?â€?

“Holy cow dude, I thought we were gonna have to call 911.â€? Brent laughed as he crouched over Todd.

“Yeah, man, I didn’t think it would knock you out like that,â€? James said through a nervous laugh. “My bad dude.â€?

“Wha… what happened?â€? Todd sat up, grabbing the back of his head.

“You got knocked out man. James was sitting up at the top of the stairs with a paint can tied to a rope.â€?

“Like in that movie,â€? James interrupted, “Home Alone.â€?

“Yeah, Home Alone. When you turned around it whacked you in the back of the head and it must have knocked you out. You were out for like five minutes or something.â€? Brent helped Todd to his feet. “You think you’re gonna be ok?â€?

“I will be after you buy me those tacos. Asshole.â€? The three walked across the street to the Taco Bell.

Later that night—as Todd was taking off his shoes—he noticed a surfboard strap attached to his ankle. It was still damp.