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Jane separates cans and can’ts for recycling. Then she stares in confusion at the can’ts.
“Martin,” she says. “Do we recycle can’ts?”

“Ain’ts,” he offers, helpfully. “Don’t can’ts ain’t got to.”

She looks at him as if this has not magically resolved all of her confusion, which, in fact, it has not. He makes funny faces at her. After a while, she decides, “We need a goat.”

“What?”

“A goat, Martin! A goat!”

<< Chapter 3: Rock-Paper-Scissors

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