pickup on mean street - 15. the road

by bofa xesjum

part fifteen of 16

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dusk, falling on a dusty road. three figures - abraham lincoln, babe ruth, and billy the kid trudge along silently. if you are an inhabitant of the united states, of a certain age, these names are probably familiar to you and you have at least a vague idea of what they must have looked like. if you are not an inhabitant of the united states, or if you are an inhabitant of the united states but of a younger generation, the names might mean nothing to you, and the three figures walking down the road might as well be named adam lawrence, burfield rainsford, and william kenworthy. but for now we will continue referring to them as abraham lincoln, babe ruth, and billy the kid. abraham was in no way the “leader’ of the little group, but the other two regarded him as a person who had some experience of authority, and often, but by no means always, deferred to his judgment. they moved along silently. darkness began to fall, and they could not clearly make out the sides of the roads, especially when they passed large amounts of trees on either side of the road. they were glad that it was not raining. they were lost, and had no idea where they were. this was not an altogether unwelcome state of affairs, as it meant at least there were no armies in the immediate area. armies that might have been disciplined and inclined to dragoon them into their ranks, or undisciplined and ready to rob them of what little they carried. and they carried very little. but the road was long and winding. and everybody who has ever lived, and everybody who will ever live, was walking down it. next

pickup on mean street - 14. a caller

by bofa xesjum

part fourteen of 16

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the butler walked into the sitting room. he had a big red nose and stammered a bit, but he had always been a faithful servant. outside, night had fallen, and a cold wind blew through the ancient trees that surrounded the old house. a man is here to see you, madam, the butler announced. a man, babe? not a gentleman? i would say by no stretch of the imagination a gentleman, madam. i tried to dissuade him, but he is most obstreperous. i thought of summoning bailey but he is laid up with the gout, so i thought it better - very well, show the creature in. wait - this is the 5th of june, is it not? indeed it is, madam. yes, i had forgotten. show this individual in by all means. you have done right, babe. lady amelia did not add, you have done well by accident, but you have done well. babe departed , and quickly returned with the individual who was by no stretch of the imagination a gentleman. what a foul looking creature, lady amelia thought. of course, i may be prejudiced, as he is here to divest me of my inheritance. the visitor was short and square, wearing a ragged brown suit two sizes too big for himself. he had a high collar which almost covered his face. he carried a large carpetbag which looked to have been made from a faded old rug of oriental design. he did not carry his hat, if he had one, in his hand. it was this last circumstance which most disconcerted lady amelia. please state your business, sir, she addressed him as civilly as she could. permit me to introduce myself first, the visitor replied with what might have been a smile (for his face was mostly hidden by his high collar). my name is horatio limbo, and i was, until recently, the third mate and ship’s doctor on the pirate ship bucephalus, commanded by none other than the redoubtable captain william kidd. so you are not a lawyer, nor yet a lawyer’s clerk? lady amelia replied in astonishment. why, no, whatever gave you that idea? that is neither here nor there, lady amelia answered stiffly. what then is your business, sir? i have a message for you from your nephew uriel, who was a shipmate of mine on the bucephalus. uriel! that worthless scamp! i am afraid i have not thought of him for many years. but he apprently thought of you, as he charged me to give you this message. and is this message in writing? no, i shall have to relate it, and it is rather long. i see. tell me, does this message involve some sort of buried treasure? why, of course, what else would it be about? the man calling himself horatio limbo looked around the sitting room. please be seated, sir. would you like a cup of tea? i would prefer a glass of grog. i do not believe i have any grog on the premises. well then, i accept your generous offer of a cup of tea, lady amelia rang for babe the butler. but babe was nowhere to be found. he had taken to the highway. next

pickup on mean street - 13. the hat

by bofa xesjum

part thirteen of 16

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when sophonisba awoke, mademoiselle duval - or the woman sophonisba had taken to be mademoiselle duval - was gone. so was the cup which had held the wine. there was no trace of the wine which sophonisba remembered spilling. and the candle was gone. the table was empty except for sophonisba’s face, which she lifted off the table to look around. the hut was empty. the chairs were gone, and the kettle and the tripod on which it stood. there was no sign of a fire on the fireplace, not even ashes. the door of the hut was slightly open. sunlight streamed through it, and through the single tiny window beside the door. i must have dreamed the whole thing, sophonisba surmised. what else, she thought, have i dreamed? did i dream the three rascals i encountered at the crossroads. and their story about soup and a pea and a something woman? did i dream the war, and the fall of the kingdom, and the sacking and burning of the castle, and the roads filled with soldiers and demons? it would be nice if all that were a dream. and if juiie, her faithful maid, were to suddenly appear with a pot of tea and some cream tarts. but neither the cream tarts, nor the tea, nor julie or any other maid appeared. sophonisba got up, stretched her sore arms and legs, and went back outside. the first thing she saw was a hat - an ordinary brown hat such as a peasant might wear to market - lying on the ground just outside the door. there was a piece of paper in the hat. she picked the piece of paper out of the hat. on the paper were written the words - wear this hat and good things might happen to you. she put the hat on. it fit perfectly and served to keep the sun out of her eyes. she got back up on to the road and began walking. next

pickup on mean street - 12. wake up

by bofa xesjum

part twelve of 16

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gabriel woke up. his surroundings looked familiar. he was lying on a cot, in a small room with one little window with bars on it. where was he? aspen, colorado? abilene, kansas? ardmore, oklahoma? but he had passed through all those towns… and arrived at the apartment building outside shreveport, louisiana… it all came back to him… knocking on the door… not being let in…. going back to the bus station… was it all a dream? was he back in jail somewhere in kansas? or in oakland? he had an old rough army blanket covering him, but he was cold. he went back to sleep… he dreamed he was back in the bus station…. and a little animal - a rat? a rabbit? - was trying to talk to him…. and his old schoolmate , the archangel jedediah, was pointing to something on the floor … something white, a letter or scrap of newspaper… the white thing turned into a ship and he was riding in it with alexander the great and sinbad the sailor and blackbeard and bluebeard and marie antoinette … a storm came up and captain cook cried, all hands on deck! a white wave crashed over him… when gabriel woke up again gray light was coming through the bars on the window. after a while he heard heavy footsteps. the iron door opened with a creak and sheriff jake brown stepped into the cell. gabriel had encountered sheriff jake on numerous occasions in his travels. well jake, gabriel said, i see we meet again. i am sorry it could not be in more salutary circumstances, but before we begin i would like a cup of joe if you could see your way clear to providing me with one. certainly my friend, the sheriff replied smoothly in his booming voice, just step this way if you please. next

pickup on mean street - 11. back to the bus station

by bofa xesjum

part eleven of 16

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gabriel began walking back to the bus station. as he did, his situation began to truly dawn on him. he had placed all his hope on reaching annie or cleo with aunt amelia’s letter. but it had not worked out, and now he had nowhere to go, and he was out of money. could he steal money? or steal anything? he had never engaged in such activity and did not think he had the nerve to begin. maybe he should just go back to the building, and take his chances on dealing with the “security” the woman at the door had threatened him with. he did not know what kind of “security” she had been referring to. the kind that would arrest you and throw in a cell but at least feed you? or the kind of “security” that would kill you. and maybe “have some fun” with you before finishing you off. gabriel had heard many stories about such behavior in his long and terrifying journey across the continent. he decided to keep walking to the bus station. and then suddenly it hit him, like the bricks from a blown up city rolling down the tallest mountain in the world… the woman who had closed the door in his face and threatened him with security - she had never said who she was! was she annie or cleo? she might not have been either one! and he had not seen any sign of the threatened “security”. he turned and looked back. nobody seemed to be following him. he had just about made up his mind to go back when he realized he had arrived back at the bus station. which seemed to be closed, or at least deserted. gabriel pushed at the front door. it opened. he did not see anybody inside. either passengers, or employees. a single small light was on behind the ticket counter, but there was no person behind it. it was warm inside the station. not roaring fire warm, but not cold like it was outside, where the temperature had dropped steadily as he had made his way back from the building. he sat down on one of the benches, just to rest his feet before starting back. he leaned back against the high back of the bench. suddenly he was tired… very tired… next

pickup on mean street - 10. mademoiselle duval's tale

by bofa xesjum

part ten of 16

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well, my dear. mademoiselle duval began, if I am to tell you my story , I must begin by giving you a little background. you were but a child when the unfortunate events unfolded that resulted in my being banished from the castle. and these events can only be understood in the light of the history of the kingdom, so i will begin by giving you a little refresher course on that extensive subject. oh, but i know all about the history of the kingdom and of my illustrious ancestors, sophonisba said, i was well schooled by my succession of tutors, of which you, mademoiselle, were far from the least. ha ha! you think so? no, my dear sophonisba, the history which was imparted to the royal progeny such as yourself was little more than a fairy tale made suitable for children. the real story was very different indeed. and in any case, you must let me tell my story in my own way, as i will let you tell yours. very well, said sophonisba, please proceed. according to legend, the kingdom of a————— was founded by the noble wandering knight amadis, after the fall of the city of mu. amadis, in the service of king toro of neannaland, had led the final assault on the city, and defeated the champion of mu, the mighty baruth, in single combat, after which king mutan of mu had surrendered. amadis had expected to reap a rich reward from king toro for his service. a small kingdom or duchy of his own, at the very least. as well as the hand of princess annafelle, the eldest daughter and rightful heir of king toro. but annafelle had ideas of her own, and conspired with the royal wizard and chamberlain, the abbe alladin, to accuse amadis of sorcery and collaboration with demons - the most shameful accusations which could be made against so noble a knight. i see you are restless, sophonisba, as no doubt all this is familiar enough to you. not at all ,mademoiselle, please proceed as you wish. thank you, my dear, here, have another portion of this soothing beverage. and mademoiselle duval filled sophonisba’s cup - which in her thirst she had quickly drained. annafelle, mademoiselle duval resumed, in truth was outraged at the thought of being betrothed to a mere wandering knight, no matter how gallant. she would also much preferred to marry some old dotard of a long lineaged king, as she could then pull the wool over his eyes as to her relationship with the dapper courtier prince cosmico… indeed, sophonisba interjected, this is an aspect of the tale i never heard in the nursery… what did i tell you, mademoiselle duval laughed. sit back now and listen… sophonisba felt herself grow sleepy. her arms fell to her sides, and her head nodded on her long neck. she pitched forward on to the table, overturning her cup… the red contents of the cup dribbled across and off the table… next

pickup on mean street - 9. the woogle woman

by bofa xesjum

part nine of 16

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the hut of the woogle woman was further down the road than her new allies had indicated, and full night had fallen before the princess came to it. the hut was back from the road and down an incline and almost hidden by the overhanging branches of a great tree, and the princess might havre passed it if a light had not suddenly appeared in its one small window just as she approached it. was the woogle woman expecting her? the princess made her way carefully down the incline and approached the hut. she could not make out a door in the hut but one suddenly opened as she reached it. the woogle woman had seen her, at least, even if she had not been expecting her. but the greatest surprise was yet to come. a figure stood in the door of the hut. the princess recognized her! it was one of her old tutors, mademoiselle duval, whom she thought must have perished in the most recent apocalyptic chaos, as she had been turned out of the castle doors by the king and queen as a result of some dreadful scandal the exact nature the innocent young princess had only dimly understood. so madamoiselle duval was the woogle woman! the princess was now more curious than ever to learn exactly what a woogle woman was. good heavens, sophonisba, madamoiselle cried. what a surprise to see you here, under these distressing circumstances. and how you have grown! you are quite a grown up young lady! but, please, come in, as the night is growing quite chilly. sophonisba, for that was indeed the princess’s most commonly used name (she had a dozen), entered the hut and mademoiselle duval closed the door behind them. the hut was only slightly warmer than the road and woods outside. a single candle stood on a single table and shed an uncertain light on the interior. the only other items of furniture were two hard looking wooden chairs. a small kettle stood on a tripod in the corner, but was not in use. a tiny fireplace, barely visible, was also unlit. straw, by no means the cleanest, covered a dirt floor. sophonisba noticed that mademoiselle was wearing what appeared to be several layers of clothing, with a thick shawl over her shoiuders. she thought this did not bode well for the prospect of even a small fire. mademoiselle duval directed sophonisba to take one of the hard chairs, and sat down in the other herself. well, sophonisba, the erstwhile tutor began, you must have had some stirring adventures to have arrived here like this. you must tell me all about them. oh no, mademoiselle, the princess replied. i am sure the stories you have to tell would put mine to shame. you must tell me yours first. well, as you are the guest, i will humor your wishes. just sit back and relax and i will regale you with my sad tale. thank you. sophonisba was by no means a blushing violet and added, i could relax a bit more if i had something to abet my thirst, which is somewhat considerable after my long walk to get here. oh, cried mademiselle duval, what was i thinking! i am being a terrible hostess! she quickly produced a bottle and two small cups from the folds of her voluminous skirt and placed them on the little table. next

pickup on mean street - 8. the princess and the pea

by bofa xesjum

part eight of 16

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once upon a time a great war ravaged the kingdom of a—————. hunger, disbanded soldiers, and demons escaped from hell and wandered the countryside. also wandering wandering the countryside was a beautiful young princess, whose castle had been sacked and burned by one of the passing armies. the king, the queen, her sisters, and her little dog had all perished or been lost in the confusion, but she had hopes of finding the little dog, at least. the princess had not eaten since finding a few pine cones by the roadside a few days earlier, and she was hungry. she hoped to find a sorcerer or a good witch or a genie who would grant her some wishes, or at least a few more pine cones or some grass to chew on. she came to a crossroads. there had been a sign there indicating the various directions that could be taken but it had been stolen or torn down. the princess took one of the roads as they were all the same. darkness began to fall. a mile down the road she encountered a pirate, an ogre, and a dwarf, standing around, and tending to, a small fire. a small pot was suspended above the fire, but no fragrant odors, or any kind of odors , emanated from it. the princess wondered if the ill-assorted trio might wish to chop her up and put her in the pot. instead the dwarf, who had a round red face, addressed her in a cheery manner, as if he did not have a care in the world. look here , he said to the princess, we are attempting to make some pea soup, but so far all our efforts have been thwarted. perhaps you can help out? how might i do that? the princess replied politely. we need some peas, the pirate growled, or at least a pea, the ogre added in a sad solemn tone. i am sorry but i do not happen to have any peas on my person, the princess answered. ah, but you might still be able to help us out, the dwarf told her. i am at your service, the princess said, provided that i get to share in the pea soup if and when it is produced. of course, the ogre said, what do you take us for? very well, then, how may i assist you? there is an old woogle woman living in a hut down the road, the dwarf said. we believe she has some peas, but we have not been able to persuade her to part with even one. or to admit that she has any, the pirate added. we thought you might have better luck, the ogre said, being somewhat younger and more personable than ourselves. that is all very well and i appreciate the compliment and your confidence in me, the princess replied. but , tell me, what exactly is a woogle woman? is she something like a witch? she is the opposite of a foogle woman, the dwarf said. she is neither a fox nor a hen, said the ogre, if you get my drift. this is all very well, said the pirate, but the only thing that need concern us is that she might have some peas, or at least one pea, with which we might make some soup. so are you game? i do not see that i have anything to lose, said the princess. in what direction is her hut? next

pickup on mean street - 7. refresh your memory

by bofa xesjum

part seven of 16

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dear cleo - cleo began reading - i am your aunt amelia, and i am asking you - but perhaps i should first refresh your memory as to exactly who and what i am and what my relationship with yourself is. my name is amelia flyte, and i was born many years ago in the little village of b—————. in the great empire of z—————. the village of b———————, small as it was, was one of the country retreats of the emperor, babar xvii, who was at that time at the height of his belovedness throughout his great empire, which was itself at the apex of its power, although the signs of its inevitable decay and crumbling would soon appear. babar xvii was in the advanced stages of his long dotage. as a small child, frolicking with my favorite governess in the green fields beside the bubbling brooks of the placid and secluded (and heavily guarded) village, naturally i knew nothing of this. what did I know? I knew that life was good, that my papa was brave and my mama was beautiful, that all the men in my family were brave and that most of them were handsome, that most of the women in my family were beautiful, and that even those, like the old, that were not, were kind. i knew that our servants were all kind and good and faithful. and that all the dogs and horses on the estate were faithful, although some of the horses were a bit high spirited and had to be kept in line by our faithful grooms. i knew that all the men in the family might be called to battle at any time, but that none of them would be killed and all would return victorious and covered with glory. i knew that good pastor k——————, who preached in the family chapel on sunday morning, was the kindest man in the world, though sometimes the subject of good natured fun because of his forgetfulness. i knew that someday i would grow up and get married, but that that would not happen for a million years. and that someday i would die, but not for a million times a million years. i especially loved my english governess, miss mansfield, who was young for a governess - looking back, i realize she was barely out of her teens - and quite pretty, and who told me or read to me endless stories, many of them quite violent and probably considered “unsuitable” for children today. the stories amused me greatly, and seemed to have no connection with my own real life. i never suffered from nightmares. miss mansfield was telling me a story when news arrived from the village that the old emperor had died. next

pickup on mean street - 6. the letter

by bofa xesjum

part six of 16

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gabriel! michael exclaimed. cleo seemed amused at michael’s reaction. it’s not that uncommon a name, she told him over her shoulder. i had a brother named gabriel. really? cleo laughed. i do not think this little fellow was your brother. he was the most hideous human i have ever seen - ugly hideous, not scary hideous. that’s he! michael exclaimed. it must be he! he stood up. which way did he go? he asked cleo. well, i didn’t watch him go. i suppose he took the elevator or went down the stairs, and out into the street. cleo mock shuddered. i certainly hope he is not lurking about. i have to go after him, michael said firmly. he started for the door. go with him, cleo ordered adolf, who had been watching and listening silently, but alertly. with the mildest of grimaces, he got up from his comfortable chair. yes, michael told adolf, you go down one end of the street, i will go down the other. very well, adolf murmured. he was closer to the door than michael, and approached it. look here, adolf said. this must have been left by our mysterious visitor. the letter that gabriel had slipped under the door was plainly visible on the floor, now that someone had approached it. adolf picked it up. it was not in an envelope, but was folded in thirds. adolf walked over to the divan where cleo was seated and handed it to her. michael waited by the door. without opening the letter, cleo nodded toward the door. adolf returned to the door and opened it , and gestured to michael to exit before him. but michael did not leave. instead he asked cleo, aren’t you going to read it? if you wish. cleo unfolded the letter and read it, but not aloud. what does it say? michael asked impatiently. adolf waited beside him, holding the door open. do you really want me to read it? cleo finally asked. yes, of course i want you to, michael replied. next

pickup on mean street - 5. gabriel

by bofa xesjum

part five of 16

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' gabriel knocked on the door. he had aunt amelia’s letter of introduction in his pocket. the door was opened by a tall raven-haired woman in a low cut white dress. she looked down at gabriel. who the blazes are you? she asked. are you cleo? or annie? never mind who i am. who are you? i am gabriel, and if you are cleo or annie i am your cousin. you are an ugly little critter. the ugliest i have ever seen. you poison the air with your ugliness. i am sorry you feel that way, gabriel said. but i have a letter from aunt amelia. get lost, ugly little critter. the woman closed the door in gabriel’s face. but, gabriel said to the closed door, i think you might be interested in what aunt amelia has to say. the door did not open. and, gabriel continued, i have nowhere to go if you do not admit me. i spent my last penny getting here from the sinking island of san francisco, and i have nowhere to go. the door remained closed. gabriel hesitated, then knocked on it again. after a few seconds, the darkhaired woman opened the door again. get lost, little man. i won’t tell you again. i am calling security and you don’t want to be here when they arrive. she shut the door in gabriel’s face. gabriel ttook aunt amelia’s letter out of his pocket. he took the letter out of its envelope and slipped it under the door. then he turned and, since he never trusted elevators, quickly ran down the four flights of stairs. to the street. the street was dark. It felt like it might start to rain. gabriel did not see any sign of the “security” he had been threatened with, but he began walking quickly. back in the direction of the bus station. even though he had no money to buy a ticket anywhere. he had no idea where to go, or what to do. * who was that? alexander asked cleo. he did not look up from the heavy tome - on pre-atlantean tomb architecture - that he held on his lap. some pathetic bum. the ugliest little flapjack i ever saw. i sent him on his way. you don’t see so many bums these days, cappy said. “especially knocking on the door. i wonder how he got through security, bronko said. cleo shrugged, and resumed her seat on the divan facing the glowing fireplace. they don’t get much business these days, you can understand if they get a little careless. but I say, bronko continued. that is no excuse. we pay these fellows for service, after all. did the fellow, the fellow at the door, i mean, want anything in particular? some nonsense about a letter from aunt amelia. your aunt amelia? alexander asked. isn’t she dead? she was the last i heard. cleo replied languidly. michael spoke from the depths of his armchair for the first time. he spoke of aunt amelia? did he give his own name? i think he said it was - gabriel. gabriel! michael esclaimed. reader, let us set the scene a bit belatedly. we are in the apartment of cleo, a stylish young woman. alexander, bronko, and cappy are paying court to her because she is the kind of woman men pay court to, like moths around a flame. michael, cleo’s cousin, is also present. he is the handsomest man in the world, though far from the richest, and so far from wishing to pay court to any woman, is weary of their attentions, which he likens to the buzzing of flies around roadkill. adolf, cleo’s flunky, rounds out the little party, which small as it is, more than fills the little apartment. next

pickup on mean street - 4. in the shadows

by bofa xesjum

part four of 16

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ali sat in the shadow of the warehouse and watched as the bus pulled out onto the road. were the magician and the man in the brown hat still on it? she did not know. she had not seen them get off, but they might have in the time she had taken to hop down the street to the warehouse. if the magician had been on the bus, going who knew where, how, she wondered, would she ever get back to being a human and not a rabbit. and, even worse, that left her with no way to recover the envelope which had been entrusted tp her. did she dare go back to the station? perhaps in the confusion of her being changed into a rabbit, the envelope had fallen on the floor of the station and was still sitting there. she decided to risk it. what choice did she have? the town seemed to be closing down. it seemed darker than when she had first escaped from the magician’s pocket and the station. the station itself did not seem as brightly lit. there was only one bus left in a dock. even as ali watched, the last bus pulled out, and lights were turned out in the station itself. then the station went completely dark. and a few minutes after that a man wearing a bright green baseball cap - the ticket seller? - came out a side door and began walking briskly away in the opposite direction from the warehouse. it was now or never! ali hopped back to the station. could she get back into it? the front door was a revolving door. she pushed against it, still in her rabbit body, and was able to slowly squeeze her way into it. whew! that was the hard part. she looked around. a tiny light was on behind the ticket counter, so faint she had not been able to see it from outside. she saw a gleam of white under one of the benches. the white thing under the bench was a piece of paper. there was writing on the paper. ali wondered if she would be able to read it with her rabbit brain, but her fears proved to be misplaced. the writing said - take this paper to aunt amelia and good things will happen to you. when you take it to her, do not forget to wear a nice hat because aunt amelia likes nice hats. ali sighed inwardly. this was not very helpful. in the first place, who might aunt amelia be? and where might she be found? even if this problem were solved, how was ali to reach her in her rabbit body? and how was she to carry the piece of paper? in her mouth? thousands of miles to alaska or china or egypt? and all this about a nice hat? a nice hat by whose definition? and could ali get the nice hat on her rabbit head? next

pickup on mean street - 3. on the bus

by bofa xesjum

part three of 16

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the bus sat outside the terminal, waiting to pull out on to the rain slicked highway ali had been duly turned into a rabbit, and was resting more or less comfortably in the pocket of the magician, who was seated by the window in the furthest seat back in the bus the bus was almost full. the magician had placed a large trunk on the seat beside himself thus preventing anyone else from sitting beside him ali was able to poke her rabbit head out of the magician’s pocket and peer out the window. the rain continued to fall, and the lights in the mist on the other side of the street had a soothing glow. the driver closed the door of the bus. then just as it appeared the bus was about to pull out, the driver opened the door again. a man got on the bus. he was one of the biggest men ali had ever seen. he had a big brown hat on his head and the hat was wet because it was raining. the big man in the brown hat strode purposefully down the aisle of the bus and confronted the magician. what are you trying to pull, manny? he demanded. you can not just run out on the syndicate like that. and what is that rabbit doing in your pocket? there is some misunderstanding here, the magician retorted acidly. my name is not manny, it is omar, and i must say i do not care for your attitude. you better cone along with me, manny. the big guy is in no mood for your childish nonsense. the other passengers on the bus were starting to get restless. driver, can we get this show on the road? somebody throw both these bums off the bus, and their rabbit with them. * with a weary sigh, the bus driver got up and walked down the aisle to the back of the bus to see what the commotion was about. the big man with the brown hat turned around and saw the bus driver approaching him. chester! the bus driver exclaimed. i did not expect to see you here, of all people. it looks you got me, billy, the man in the brown hat replied sheepishly. i guess i do, the driver said. you would not happen to have that sawbuck you have owed me for lo these many years, would you? no, man, i am afraid i do not. you are going to have to give me a little more time on that. fair enough, billy replied with another weary sigh. meanwhile would you mind getting off my bus so i can get these good people to their appointed destinations? all right, billy, if you say so. do we have to listen to this all night, a woman of ample girth with a blue flower in her hair, occupying the seat across from manny the magician, demanded. i for one have to get to cincinnati by ten o’clock tomorrow morning to peddle my wares, and i am incensed by this totally needless delay. you see what i have to deal with, billy addressed chester. be a good fellow and get off the bus and make the whole world smile, all right. all right, billy, i will make some people happy and do as you say . and i will get back to you with a tenner, i promise, as soon as it is reasonably feasible. as he started back up the aisle, chester turned and glared balefully at manny. i’m not through with you, my man. do not think that for one minute. move it! another voice from the depths of the bus shouted. let’s go! a rather empty boast, manny sneered at chester. chester jostled against the lady going to cincinnati with the blue flower in her hair, and she shoved him away and he landed across the aisle in the lap of a young woman with thick glasses reading a copy of pearl buck’s the good earth, and more hooting and laughter flowed through the bus. ali saw her chance. she jumped out of manny’s pocket and scurried under the seats up to the front of the bus and exited through chester’s legs when billy opened the door of the bus to let chester out. the cool night air gave her a well-needed shot of adrenalin and she hopped down the street into the shadows of an abandoned warehouse. free! but after a moment of exultation, despair overwhelmed her. she was a rabbit! how could she get to the good place if she was a rabbit! and then another thought hammered her poor brain. the envelope! what had become of the envelope? next