The inside of the shack was very small but neat. There was a small bathroom in the back corner and a couple of couches and a big chair and a giant radio sitting on the floor.

My guess was, Yogi lived in this shack, because there was a small kitchen with a wood stove in the front corner and a box of Fig Newtons on top of it. I looked around for a TV but couldn’t find one, which was odd because Yogi must’ve had at least thirty of them in a pile out in the Yard. 

I went over to the window and looked out front. Yep, Quiet Cal was still there. 

“Hi, Lump,” a voice whispered in my ear. I banged my head against the window and spun around, hands in the air. 

“BONES!” I shouted, grabbing at my chest. It felt like my heart was going to pound right out of it. “Stop doing that!” 

“Stop doing what?”

“Never mind,” I groaned. Bones flopped down on the big, orange couch that looked exactly like the one that had clipped the back tire of the Basket Barge on our attempt to Junk it Up. 

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