Just as the 4 1/2 tolls of the old church bell are dying away, the phone rings. It's Paul, who is on vacation in the wilds of Canada, where he and Laura seem to go with depressing regularity. "How is Canada?" you shout, over the white noise of a bad connection.
"Sorry, couldn't hear you there for a minute," Paul apologizes. "Canada is..." but his undoubtedly enthusiastic adjective is swallowed by static. "Worse than... initially anticipated... send help..." Another burst of static ends with a prolonged scream. "Poor Paul," you think.
