A Quick 30 Seconds — Roy Maynard

The birds in my life are never jewel-encrusted Maltese falcons. That doesn't usually bother me; look at all the trouble the black bird caused Bogie. None of that for me, thank you very much. Nevertheless, when my golden retriever, Airborne Ranger by name, delivered a dead chicken to my door, I had no idea that would be the sanest thing to happen to me for some time.
Ever have one of those weeks in which your friends reject you, slander you, use you for a punching bag, and even have the nerve to insult your favorite baseball team? It's me-Emerson Dunn-stumbling into another outrageous escape.
My old college buddy Matt and I had never been particularly close. But when a friend is busted by the Fed's for stealing $200,000 from a church, well, one can't just ignore it, can one? That is a nice way of saying I just had to go to Dallas to help him get out of trouble, even if he was engaged to my former fiancee Julie. Why do these things keep happening to me? Running hard into my past, colliding with present situations I knew I couldn't handle or even understand - well, God, I need your help again. Please?