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    Continued
| Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | 
      The next day, Madeline's cashmere disappeared into the abyss of a laundry business. Sweater Boy returned to the bus transit center at 5:58 a.m., twenty minutes before the first scheduled bus pulled out. He waited and watched. 
PICTURE GOES HERE
      Meanwhile, across town, a diabolical individual (whose name cannot yet be revealed) slipped something into the pocket of a woman's sweater. That something will later be a clue for solving the most sensational mystery of West Brunnersville's history. But we digress . . . 
      Sweater Boy knows nothing of clues or scandals or evils. But he does know that a lush mound of flesh in a queen size 24X approaches along Miracle Avenue. He springs into action. 
      Looking closely, you might see the momentary grimace on Maria Ontiveros' face. Four children, a full-time job at HyperDial, enrollment in technical college, and Sweater Boy. How much can a person bear?
      Sweater Boy extends his business card and bows. "Madam, I wash sweaters." 
      Maria keeps her eyes focused straight ahead while flashing a half smile from the corner of her mouth. She climbs aboard the Number One with haste and inhales with relief. Sweater Boy stares through the bus window, hoping she might relent and hand over that green striped cotton-polyester blend. 
     Unobserved -- except by us -- in the cross of arriving and departing buses, an older model, beige Honda pulls up to the curb. The front passenger window rolls down, an arm stretches out, and a red sweater is tossed onto an empty bus bench before the car disappears around the corner. Passengers board, disboard, transfer, and reboard with the stranded sweater ignored. 
 
 CONTINUE WITH PART FOUR

 
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Ask SweaterBoy for laundry tips
 Go directly to Mail Box 3
 Visit the West Brunnersville Bus Transit Center. 
Who the heck wrote this thing?