“What in the world is going on?” shouted Mom.
“I’m hunting for a qualeor!” he grinned.
“No, you’re hunting for a grounding,” scolded Mom.
And then the qualeor burst through the window.
What in the world is a qualeor?
If you have an idea, why not describe it in a comment, or draw a picture of it (while it’s bursting through the window, perhaps?).