Rimu heard a voice yelling, “Rimu, Rimu!”. He heard something hitting the window. He rolled over trying to block the noise. He still felt sleepy. He couldn’t figure out why he could hear his name. “It can’t be hail, not in the middle of summer anyway” Rimu thought.
He sat up, and looked around. It was early dawn. He could just make out a silhouette, which leant over and wrapped again, louder this time, as if it were to break the window. “Rimu! Hey Rimu! You deadhead. Wake up already!”
Rimu groaned. “Ollie! Leave me be.” He wished it was hail.
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