 |
| "Merry makers and frigid old bats, saints
and sinners, newcomers and antiquities, heed my call." Albert throws a
second beer can at a squawking crow before lighting up his pipe. The smoke
exhales from his mouth, then his nostrils, and finally his earlobes until
the graveyard fills with dense mist. |
| Dearly-departed Bradford J. Hughes
the First cries out, "Let the shenanigans begin!"
From the mist emerges the ghostly contingent, with little Rodney zipping
forward on his transparent skateboard (hit last year by an automobile,
entirely his own fault) and dear-departed Mildrid at the rear, clutching
her walking stick and dragging three monstrous tote bags. |
|
