After a few laughs of pretty mid-jokes, a realization suddenly hit me, now that we're back at Barry's house. "Does anyone even know where Mr. Trilby lives?" I asked.
Everyone paused for a moment, before Mimb raised his hands up, as his eyes widened in excitement. "I do, follow me!" he said, as he took off immediately. Hans looked at him, as if there wasn't much to say—mainly because there wasn't.
"Well, let's follow him," Barry said.
We followed him down the hill that Barry's house usually slants on the side of, squeezed through traffic, went through an alleyway, came over to another hill on the opposite side of the one we came from, went up, went up even more, went up even more, until we reached this big house that was brown and black with a water fountain in the middle of it that had no water splashing out of it.
"Wow…" Hans muttered in awe. "Why does he have a better house than my parents in this village?"
