In the hand that held the Foozle, Joe snapped his wrist and a soft, blue light illuminated the border of the Foozle, along with a long, thin blue ray that glowed from a small hole at the top. Joe adjusted the width and length of the beam, then pointed it at the top of the chain-link fence, where the links attached to the post. He slowly drew a line with the Foozle’s beam down to the ground, and the fence separated ever so slightly. 

Joe pushed the fence in and wiggled through. “Let’s go on a junk tour, Chief!” 

Chief shook his head. He was bewildered by Joe’s fascination with the junkyard, but even more bewildered that Joe had had a Foozle with him this whole time and hadn’t said a word. 

Chief and Joe made their way around the giant tire pile and the huge stack of hubcaps next to it. When they emerged onto the clean path of the loop, Joe marveled, “This place is amazing! It’s so clean and organized. And there’s so much junk here!” 

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