Mi Cumpoter Shahar, The best so far
His mariposa soaring to a star
Que paso? Oh me, Oh my, mucho besos
bahat se bose, he shows, she knows.

What kind of love, amore is this?
What day has the most bliss?
Domingo, Lunes, one more kiss
Tuesday , Wednesday they permiss
Jumerat, Jumah do they need kumiss?
Sabado, oui oui, oooh French Kiss.

Who's to know, quien dice?
What will happen along the way.
Mat soch itna kuch to risk lay 
Dreams fulfilled, desires seen
Who will fight this King and Queen?

Let them be, don't pull the rug
Let them kiss and then a hug
Their destiny, their fate, their purpose
Who cares if it looks like a circus?
Life is fun, life is short
An oasis, a tropical resort.

Mind your biz, and they will theirs
No need to split so many hairs.
To each his own, to each their path
Everyone do their own darn math
Don't yak them up, don't bust their jaw
You just might find that last straw

¡Sólo reímos y bailemos!
iye sarf hansen or dans karin!
Rions et dansons !
Let's just laugh and dance !

Are you a mirage?
A desire only seen from afar?
Closeness will make you disappear?
Like chasing a distant star?

An oasis in my desert? 
Paradise to be found?
Water to quench my thirst?
My melody, oh how sweet the sound?

Are you just an optical illusion?
Visions dancing before my eyes?
A figment of my imagination?
Living in a plethora of lies?

Will it all just vaporize?
A magic act trick?
Smoke and mirrors?
Refracting light, Bollywood flick?
Heat from the pavement?
To my heart a prick?
Waking from a dream?
What the crap, what the frick?

Are you my rainbow?
My beau? My foe? My dough?
Do we ebb and flow? Do we grow?
Pretty flowers all in a row?
Just the status quo?
Or the reliever of my woe?
My love do I dare show?
Will it motivate you to go?
Or does my doting make you glow?

Time, tick tock, goes the clock.
Party time, indeed let's rock!
Treasure chest, please unlock!
Let's go clean that glock!
Hands and knees, awe and shock!
Past the clouds, a moonwalk!
Just a game or craving wedlock?
Temporary impulse or green hemlock?
Please let's not speak any mock.

Go to sleep, dream some more.
Neverland, playing in the woods.
Don't wake me, please no, don't.
You are the one that hold the goods

Heart so frail, emotions dwell.
Fighting tooth and nail.
Close my eyes, read some braille.
Who's to say, who's to tell?
To where the future sails?
Giving plenty, through much avail.
One day at a time on this trail.

Journey, Journey Journey
Day after day.
Tourney, Tourney, Tourney
Hope and pray
Gurney, Gurney, Gurney
Nope, no prey.

The Captain walks with her outside the dwelling place of her captured love. She takes a look in the window, and sees him laying there. His body broken, his eyes gaunt and the evidence of horrible evil aides doing the bidding of their master. She looks at The Captain. “I don’t want him staying here.” she says with much sadness. The Captain, replies with sadness of His own, “I don’t either. But it is his choice.” She quanders, “Is there anything You can do? You have to be able to get him to want to get out of there. I want him with me.” The answer she gets is something she has to choose to live with, “I have heard your request and I can do something. It will take time. In the mean time I need you to join me on My boat. There are places to go and things to do. Come join Me. Adventure awaits.” He turns and walks away.

The queen takes one last look at her wounded king and heads to the boat. The shore is within walking distance and the boat is docked within the harbor, taking up a good amount of the pier and mooring. The boat, was of course, majestic with it’s size and added tools and gadgets. Industrial strength instruments, tackle, fittings and apparatuses left anyone looking at this vessel knowing it was for some very important assignments. She boarded the craft and set to find out where her quarters would be.

There definitely was a decent todo list on the board in the wardroom. As she stood there making plans and decisions to what was on that list, she felt the movement of the boat. They were setting sail and things would be different for her for a while. She headed out to where she could see the shoreline get smaller, smaller and further in the distance of sight. The roll of the waves and the smell of salt in the air, all made for a memorable event. It also brought excitement as the unknown wound around here head, carried by the breeze that also blew her hair, causing it to tickle her face.

She retreated to her quarters to rest and waited for instructions. She slept and dreamed of better days and dreams coming true. Little did she know how much the visions in her slumber would be lived out in reality. Time would bring new and exciting things and people, new lessons to learn and fears to be relieved of. There would come a shedding of the old and the adorning of the new. A maturing of the mind and a laying to rest the timidity of the heart. She was a Queen after all and needed to act like one.

The boat moored at a bountiful harbor, full of life and happenings. Vendors and customers coming and going, fully using their powers to sell and buy, currency exchanging hands and bags and baskets being carried, delivering their precious cargo to their intended destinations. All were engaged with the marketplace life, never minding the Queen, as she traverse through the stalls and tables. She wander here and there, observing the interactions of the various transactions. She spotted an archway, and viewed a plush green area, with flowers and a fountain with it’s bubbling water. There was a bench nearby, so she sat down for a rest. As she enjoyed the scenery and the breeze on her face, a gentleman came by and greeted her.

“Ma’am.” he did a short downward nod of his head, “Are you visiting? Are you here for a stay?” She wasn’t quite sure what he meant, so she let him know, “We’ll, I arrived on the boat in the harbor and was checking out the activities of the area out there,” as she pointed back through the archway into the marketplace region, “and noticed this place here and decided to get off my feet and take a break. I do not know at this time how long my stay will be.” She pointed behind her with her thumb and added, “The Captain will let us know what the plans are. I’m sure there will be a meeting later.” He got a smile on his face, and said, “Ah, The Captain, I’ve heard of Him and that boat of His.” He hesitated and got a look of deep thought workings and then asked her a question. “Will you ask your Captain if you could manage some property here? Just ask for Scratch, Diego Scratch, everyone knows me, you can ask anyone and you will find me. But, you only need to come, if the answer is yes.” And with that he bowed and turned and walked away.

“Hmmm, manage some property? Here?”, she thought to herself. She put those thoughts aside as she relaxed listening to that bubbling fountain and the sound of a bird or two calling out to whomever would listen.

The Ogre gently, stoically cut the thin tether. He could have ripped it, but he didn’t. His actions dictated by his self inflicted pain. Well, some of it anyways, she knew she was the cause of a percentage of it. She lingered at the base of the post, she was self imposed chained to. She could have broken free anytime and she knew that. And she had at one time. Leaving on an adventure that caused much excitement and pain at the same time. And when that ended, she found herself back at her tethered post. She had no other place to go.

She didn’t want to leave so much, and yet she did. She wanted fly, fly away to her promised land, but where was that? Where was it located? This she did not know. She just knew it was somewhere, somewhere beyond her view. She slowly flew away from her prison area, wandering about, trying to console the hole in her heart. The hole not only left by The Ogre, but also that Cloaked Hero. She was reminded of a long ago indulgence, one she would never be completely healed from. The Cooper, with his lies and deception that bedazzled and enchanted her. All the rejection weighting heavy upon her. She shook it off and chose to enjoy the solitude. Winging her way among the flowers, shrubs, rocks and mushrooms that had popped up here and there.

She often loitered by the waterfall and in the field of flowers, flying around each tree, hoping for a glance of her Cloaked Hero. Would he ever come back to their pleasure sector, so they could once again drink of each other’s nectar? Days and nights, spent looking, waiting, anticipating for no real reason to expect the result she longed for. She thought she heard whispers in the trees, “He loves you.”, “He coming back.”, “Be patient precious one.”. So faint the whisperings, she wasn’t even sure they were real, that she really heard them. Shadows, the shape of him, happened from time to time. Was that him, or tricks in the darkness?

One day as she was lingering in the flower field, enjoying the sun on her wings and the breeze on her face, there he was. Her Cloaked Hero. He reached out to her, and she flitter about his head. “Where have you been? Why did you leave me?” The sorrow and even anger in his voice as he spoke, revealed the Black Cloud of the storm that thrashed him had indeed followed him to his place of sojourn. It was quite obvious that it continued to torment him and cut him to his core.

She gently stroked his cheek and the back of his hand. He relaxed a bit, but his existence in his dwelling and place of employment had certainly taken its toll. She had her work cut out for her, if he would let her help him. She had so much in her heart to tell him. She hesitated, as she was unsure of what to reveal. She didn’t want to overwhelm him and there was a risk of rejection once again.

She whispered things to him, then talked louder. He listened and spoke his piece. He was sticking around, for now anyway, or so she told herself, as she would prepare herself for a separation, which could happen at any time. She refused to hold onto him too tight. She wanted him to have his freedom to go if he wanted, on any day.

She rested in the fact that he was back and that she could at least look at him from a distance as he worked on healing his wounds from the Black Smoke, though she knew it was attached to him and would cause him harm until he made sure it was removed. She would help him from a distance as she knew that is what he needed. Once in a while she would venture closer and whisper a balm made of words or sprinkle just a little wing powder on him. She was so very happy, even with the distance and space between there interactions. She could at least see him. She could at least know he was living and moving.

She was able to break free for a while. Break free from the strings that held her down. Fly as the butterfly she was. Soaring mountain tops and winging through meadows and valleys. Flapping along side rivers and streams, finding waterfalls and rainbows.

As she traversed the fields of wildflowers, there he was, hidden beneath his cloak. He was mysterious, his voice so kind, as he spoke to the air, yet so full of sorrow. She, caressed his cheek with her colorful wing, his tears touching her tiny feet. What was making this being so sad? When he looked up and gently brushed her away, his eyes sparkled at what he saw. “What is this?”, he said. Intrigued and comforted by this little creature’s attention, he reached out to her.

As she landed on his hand, she could see his gorgeous face full on. Oh what a specimen. He looked so kind, yet that sorrow in his voice was evident behind his eyes too. She could not help but to try and continue to comfort him. He laugh a little and she knew she could help him. She fluttered away and back again, urging him to follow her. And he did. She took him to the waterfall, rushing down with it’s powerful force of water. There they played. He chasing her, and she running away, but she always came back. He was such a beautiful creature, so vibrant and wise. She could not help but to brush her wings against him, landing on his head and dancing, circling around him and through his legs, making him turn and see where she had gone. Oh what joy she felt. She sprinkled him with her wing powder and he burst out with exclamations of ecstasy. He looked relieved for just a little bit, the pain seem to have left, but of course it had not. As the numbness wore off, he began to cry again. His heart was broken. The rejection of past days, so evident in his face. What was she to do.

More wing powder. She sprinkled him with more wing powder. That seem to work, his laughter was intoxicating. She had to hear more of it. She mustered all the wing powder she could. Sunbeams rained down on them and they danced in the sunlight. Would he crush her? She became afraid. Maybe she should go. She fluttered away, needing to replenish her special talcum anyway. She was trembling. Astounded at how he made her feel. So together, so complete, so wonderful. Never had she encountered such a thing. Was this a dream? Would she wake up? Would he be gone, no where to be found? “Oh say it isn’t true.”, she thought. “I will go find a place to sleep.” she told herself, “And if I wake up, that means it wasn’t a dream.”

She found a quiet place within a pink tulip and left things to later. She dreamed of him. The running, the spinning, the laughter, all copied into her dream. When she woke up, she looked for him. Searching, for hours, in the field of wildflowers. “Oh, was he a dream?” she asked herself, “Was he?”. But just when she was going to give up, he appeared. His cloak was gone, and he was standing there in all his glory. What an exquisite creation. Her wings stop winging and she almost fell to the ground, but she caught herself. He saw and smile and reached out to her. As she walked on his hand, he closed his eyes and enjoyed her tickling little feet. He laid down in the grass and she landed on his shoulder. They stayed there like that for a while. Him soaking up the sun on his face and her resting next to his head.

The meetings ensued. Frolicking and playing in the sun and warm breezes enjoyed. She was his special butterfly and he her guilty pleasure. Joyful days of dancing and giggles of pleasure were their existence.

Then the storm came. Blowing in like a raging bull. Separation and tears, misunderstandings and fear gripped their visits. It subsided and then came back for round two. Round three. “Three strikes you’re out!”, the Referee yelled. A mighty wind of black smoke blew across her face and through her wings. Though you would think she would tumble backward through the air, she endured the deluge of insults fire at her.

The black smoke filling the wounded previously cloaked creature, choking him. He coughed and sputtered, trying to catch his breath. She was helpless to help him. Her words, falling on deaf ears, he could not hear her. The sound of the wrathful black smoke surrounded him. Blinding him. Cutting him. Thrashing him. He eventually fled back to where he came from. Whoosh, he was gone. As the dust and torrent subsided, the sun broke through the clouds, dispelling the noxious vapor.

She rested on the ground. Remembering what he looked like from that angle. So heroic. So larger than life. So majestic. She basked in the memories for a while. Sighing heavily, knowing she may never see him again. The wildflowers surrounded her, like a blanket. A comforting blanket, keeping out the terrors of the night, and fears that would want to linger in her mind.

She flew slowly back to her tether. Sorrowful she would not share more memories with the hero. She began her wait to be freed again to soar above the mountain tops. The wait for a hero, her hero.

She walked up the path to the enclosure. Her flowing sleaved cloak and hood shielding her from the cold. She opened the unlocked door and stepped into the darkness. It was colder inside than outside. The frigid atmosphere pierced her spirit to the bone.

There he was, deposited on a flimsy cot. A thin blanket laying there with him, only half covering him. She stepped to his own implemented confinement area. The emotional wall surrounding him as strong as a brick wall. The syringe in her hand was light in weight, but the serum it contained could effect a giant if it had to. She spoke to him. “How are you doing?” He growled and writhed. This was not going to be easy she knew. Her thoughts prepared her for a fight. As she readied for the injection, and moved in closer to him, he began to hold her back. His fingers curved like claws and talons. His determination to not receive what was being offered, took over him.

The fight was fierce. The risk of of being jabbed by the needle herself was high. She just needed a moment to administer her healing remedy and things would begin to be better. Success, the puncture was complete. With the medicine now coursing its way through his veins, she just had to wait. Wait for time to make things happen.

As she left, her breathing strained by the exertion of the task, she left the door open. He could leave any time he wanted. Hopefully the injectable treatment would work to help him understand that his current home was not permanent. He was a free man, but had to make the decision to leave for himself. Minions come and go and whisper lies in his ears that he can’t leave. His heroine continues to come and tell him otherwise, but the deception he allows, keeps him trapped in that dark and cold place.

She walks away. A little limp in her walk. Her clothes and armor of sorts, torn and frayed in the tussle. Back to the tailor to mend the garments and back to the doctor to address her own wounds. A little angry with his stubbornness. She wonders why she keeps coming back. Is she stupid? Is she too stubborn herself? Does she really like the fight? Yes, yes she does. There is an exhilaration in her quest. It makes her feel alive and purposeful. Why? Why does she really keep going back? It can’t just be the excitement of the fight, its intoxicating presence that fills her. There has to be more, more than that.

Yes, the love that has filled her heart. The new heart The Surgeon gave her. She sees this creation of a man with new eyes. New eyes and a new heart that wants the best for him. She will help rescue him from his prison. The minions that have abducted him will not prevail. He will come home. Time will tell its secrets and its victories. So she waits.

She showed up in her personal chariot. It was a manual one, so no horses needed. The grounds keeper was at the entrance tidying up and making sure things were presentable. He greeted the new arrival and commented on the weather induced high temperatures. She agreed with his sentiments and proceeded to notify her spouse of her arrival at the intended destination.

Once inside, the grounds keeper who was indeed a noble of the venture, introduced her to his own spouse, a princess soul of unique fashion sense. The king arrived along with his queen and more nobles. The ragamuffin minstrel ensemble was comprised of none other than the king and these nobles, including the grounds keeper and his wife. The grounds keeper’s wife stood out like a glaring magazine cover as all the other nobles were in common attire. Her coordinated outfit, perfectly matching heels along with a retro petticoat under her flared dress, shouted neurodivergent status.

As she stood on the raised platform preparing for the minstrels implementation of musical guidance, she swung her hands at her sides and rotated her hips, the petticoat and dress swayed with the motion. Perceived to be a subconscious action, the chariot lady watched her and smiled to herself.

The musical endeavor of the musicians was a success and the awe and joy that was the intended guidance through song, was achieved. The audience was up to a couple dozen people when the king took his place at the podium. His speech was attentiveness worthy and there was talk of more to come if one were to come again to the weekly scheduled gathering.

The chariot lady had a possible gift for the groundskeeper’s wife. So when the king was done with his speech, she made her way over to her. But it came in the form of a potential explosive. The gift could be defused if done properly and become the gift it was meant be or just be discarded if unwanted. If handled with annoyance and disgust, it would surely explode and cause damage. The risk was worth it to the chariot lady as she wanted the groundskeeper’s wife to be the person she should be. So, she delivered her gift and left the fashion statement princess and her husband to decide what they wanted to do with it.

Was the gift accepted and became a very needed help or was it discarded with the other apostate findings of the couple? Or has the couple become wounded by the mishandled combustible donation and is now in need of a doctor? Its an unknown secret as the gift giver has not conversed with the groundskeeper and his wife, since that day.

The lovely lady sitting at the table admired the red rose at the center of the table. The mild colored vase adding a simple beauty to the pink cloth beneath it. She waited as she was trying to decide if she should come up with a selection of something she would want to eat or if that was going to be decided for her. She realized the quiet chatter from the other visitors in the room was comforting as she had spent the day traveling alone. The journey had been relaxing in its own way. The ambiance of creature sounds and lush natural foliage, had a special beauty and cheerful comfort. But, now sitting in that room, with a few other people, took on a different type of comfort. Though the shower and short nap had mostly refreshed her, the stomach was still sending out signals of its demands, she found she didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to do much interaction either, and the young lady catering to the other guests’ needs was not paying any attention to her, so this was the perfect setting to satisfy her emotional and mental needs. The needs of her appetite were a completely different matter and becoming quite the issue at hand.

She began to analyze her eating habits for the last week and ascertained that she was due for a solid meal. The sweet middle aged couple she had stayed with prior to making her through the forest adventure, had given her an abundance of various nuts and dried fruit. Their homemade bread was eaten within a few days. Their assortment of jerky, each flavor cluster wrapped up individually, lasted longer than the bread, but was devoured with much joy and gratitude, leaving barely any trace of them. The medium cask, not unlike one from the cooper’s collection, that they handed her when the goodbyes were going around, was initially filled with liquid gold. But, that cask only had a few drops left in it now. The sweetness of the beverage was just perfect for her personal tastes. Though she would have liked it colder, it still went down her throat with smoothness.

As she sat there recollecting the conversations and musings she had with that wonderful couple, the young waitress came and placed a pitcher and a drinking vessel on the table. With a smile and a nod, the golden hair worker made a statement, “Water for you ma’am.” As she turned to go about her other business, Rachel appeared with a serving tray which she placed on the table. On that tray was a decent size bowl filled with some type of nourishment, a small platter with some dark rye rolls, a small triangular dish with two round balls of butter and a utensil/napkin set. “Roland has made his famed beef stew.” the check-in clerk turned waitress said as she placed the almost filled to the brim bowl of stew in front of her selected customer. “You said you were hungry, so this should hit the spot.” It looked wonderful with all the chunks of meat, potatoes and vegetables. As she unrolled the napkin, she selected a spoon from among the usual eating utensils. “Thank you, it looks wonderful. Yes, this should definitely hit the spot.” the ravenous damsel answered. The newly appointed waitress scuttled off, back to the kitchen area.

The food was indeed delicious, the tastiness doubled by her ferocious appetite. The expertly prepare cuisine items disappeared faster than they should have. The opportunity to savor the culinary offerings was hardly taken. As the socially adopted maiden pondered her stomach’s ceasing of it’s demands, she heard the demands of her sweet tooth getting louder. Oh what delectable choices could there be at this establishment? Should she summon the young woman serving the other guests or patiently wait for her newly found acquaintance to come back? As she sat there working on a decision, a group of gentlemen came in the door. They all were carrying one type of musical instrument or another.

One of the group spoke up and addressed the young waitress, “Nancy, let Roland know we’re here.” “Aye, aye Captain.” she quipped, and disappeared in the same direction as Rachel. A few minutes later, a semi-muscular, dark haired man appeared from the archway that Rachel and Nancy had been using. He headed to the table of this newly arriving damsel. “I trust you enjoyed the victuals? I slaved so hard to make them.” His laughter at his own pronouncement, sent delight in the air and surrounded the damsel and made her smile.

“I couldn’t have done a better job myself, at least not today.” the damsel answered. “Well, we aim to please.” answered back the chef with a jovial prideful smirking. “Would you like some music, my lady?” he added. “Sure, why not?” was the answer he got. He turned to the musicians, “Gentlemen, some musical entertainment please. For this lovely lady who has been so kind to consume my culinary efforts.” as he gestured with his hands, one towards the musicians and one towards the lovely lady. The music that filled the damsel’s ears was fun and joyful and a perfect fit for the progression of her day. Rachel had arrived at the table and was presenting a verbal list of sweet delights for the quickly being satisfied woman sitting at the table. “Roland is quite the baker too, but he does get help from time to time from some of the older ladies who need something to occupy their time.” She added, “So, we often have more goodies than we can really store, and often just give them away.”

The length of the long list of after meal delights, that was given by Rachel was making more sense. Oh boy, what was she going to choose. So many of the items on the list, sounded so yummy. “Give me a few more minutes to decide.” requested the table of one guest. “That list is long and many things on it sound delicious. It will be tough to decide, but I’ll let you know. I will sit here and listen to the music and work on making a decision.” Rachel back away and replied, “Take your time sweetie, none of us are in a hurry to close up shop. I will slip back over to the Emerald, and make sure I’m not needed over there. I’ll be back. Just let Nancy know if you need anything.” She pointed to the young waitress across the room and headed out the door.

“I think I just might stay here for a while, it seems I will fit in pretty good among these people.” the table for one lovely lady guest said to herself.

She wanders far and near searching for the perfect masterpiece. Through green valleys, lavender meadows and desert sands her quest drives her to keep going. Always looking, always listening, always observing for that one true companion. Where will he be found?

She remembers the gorgeous cooper with all the wooden kegs and barrels strewn throughout his shop. His craftsmanship an envy of many, in turn people paid good money for his timber creations. He couldn’t stick to one type of coopering so his trading post of sorts, had its walls filled with many different products for sale. The ladies loved his spoons, ladles, bowls and other kitchen utensils. The men came in for the mugs and other brew worthy containers. The business owners came in for the barrels and crates. Even though the requirement of both brawn and brains was met, he made room for some jovial outbursts once in a while.

The roving damsel’s encounter with this fine mortal didn’t last long. His passion and commitment to his skill left very little room for a certain type of companionship. She saw that right away and secretly cherished the few excursions she had with him. The walk along the creek, the picnic beneath the weeping willow, the delivery of Mrs. Klauson’s bowls, a full dozen mind you, would be events neatly packed away in the Chest Of Memories in the back of her mind. Precious memories kept hidden and preserved in that special part of the heart. The conversation about why Mrs. Klauson and her husband would need so many bowls as they were an old couple with no children, would linger in her mind. She would laugh quietly remembering all the reasons they came up with for that amount of bowls to be needed. Maybe the lady was old and tired and only wanted to wash dishes every two weeks. Or, maybe she was making Mr. Klauson eat each food she served separately. Maybe they were planning to have a party and needed them for the dozen guests they were going to have. What fun that was trying to suppose someone else’s life.

She moved on from that small village in the spring. Waiting for the cold of winter to pass and the season of warm breezes to arrive. Her quest would force her to pursue other places to continue her search.

She came to view the formidable city from making her way through the dense forest. Being protected from the night rains by the immense canopy of the trees, she slept like a baby. The callings of the owls and crickets kept her lulled to sleep all night. The cooings of the morning birds woke her to fresh mossy smells. At least to her they were fresh. Some might think they were musty and stifling smells. But, she loved how the rain overnight seemed to refresh the air around her.

When she saw the impressive city from afar, she already knew there would be plenty of scrutiny to be done. There would be many potential beloveds to examine. What would be their likes and dislikes? What would be their aspirations and ambitions? Are they staying or passing through? Are they up for grabs or off limits?

Traveling most of the day, she arrived in the city at nearly sunset. There was enough light left in the day to see her way to an establishment with green double doors. Above the doors the sign read Emerald Goblet Inn. She stepped inside, the ringing of the bell hanging on one of the doors was subsiding as she looked around. She immersed herself in the quaintness of the modest foyer furnished only with a bench, a small round table next to it, a wrought iron baker’s rack with some figurines and the check-in counter. Behind the counter was a wall rack half filled with keys.

As she stood waiting at the counter she could hear feet shuffling on the floor apparently coming from behind a green and white striped door next to the rack with keys. She hadn’t waited more than a couple minutes when the door opened and in stepped a rosy cheeked plump woman, her hair up in a bun. She smiled and spoke in a joyous tone, “What can I do for you honey?” The trek on the rugged path from the forest into the city had exhausted her. She didn’t know how much it did until that moment. A shower and a comfy seat or bed would be thee best thing in the world. She sighed and replied, “A shower and a soft bed would be worth alot of gold right now to me.” Miss plumpy chuckled and said, “Well, we do take gold among other currency and I’m sure it’s not as much as you are willing to pay in your condition.” She turned and grabbed one of the keys from the rack and handed it to the travel-weary lady in front of her. “Head out the way you came”, she pointed to the double doors, “and go right and around the corner of the building. It’ll be the fourth door down.” She added, “By the way, my name is Rachael and after you’ve got yourself cleaned and rested, I’ll help you get something to eat, you look hungry.” That was the clue for her stomach to start growling and she realized how hungry she indeed was. “Thank you Miss Rachael, I’ll definitely be back in a while, I do want to get myself smelling better before I start appeasing my mouth.” She smiled and headed out the doors.

Refreshed and very hungry, the new arrival of the city headed back to the green doors of assistance. As she entered in and headed for the counter, she saw Rachael over at the baker’s rack dusting the figurines. As the bell on the door rang, Rachael turned and remarked, “I hate dusting these things all the time, but they’re so cute and since they are gifts from previous guests, I do enjoy the memories associated with them.” The famished woman standing in front of her then noticed the colorful creations of an assortment of animals. She went closer to the shelving unit. As there were five shelves on this particular piece of room accessory, the amount of figurines was not a few. The rack was not completely full, but there were enough that one could spend a good ten minutes inspecting them. “Oh, those are so adorable!” the hungry lady replied. “Maybe after I eat you can share a couple memories with me.” “Yes, what a delightful plan.” Rachael said. “But, first, yes let’s get you fed. Across the street is a most delicious food serving place. At least in my opinion.” She started laughing and added, “Well, I should admit I’m biased as my brother is the main chef over there and I do get free food often.” The jolly woman motioned for the food craving woman to follow her.

They headed across the street and ventured into a room filled with tables. Each table had a pink tablecloth. In the center of each table was a light brown ceramic vase with a single red rose in it. Feeling the special treatment, she followed to a table in the center of the room. There were about an half dozen tables occupied by other customers. They paid no attention to what the two ladies were doing. Rachael motioned for the beautiful new visitor to sit and wait. She bustled off through an archway a short distance away. She obviously was headed to the kitchen area.

None of us knew how horrible it would turn out to be when she arrived. Her innocent looking demeanor would claw us unmercifully. That wolf in sheep’s clothing. The preying would eventually become so maddening, we started to lose our minds. Time and time again we sounded the alarm. No one that could doing anything about it, was bold enough to take action. The avoidance of that abomination became exhausting and consumed massive amounts of time and cost great effort.

Eventually we took matters into our own hands. Monies were amassed to employ the perfect henchmen. As she walked home, they waited. Her head was bagged, her appendages bound. They took her to a secret place. She was placed on a chair. Torture was in order, but it had to be the right kind. They put a blindfold on her and kept her bound. She was asked the same question, “Where do you put the signs?” fifty times. Each taking their turns so as not to grow weary themselves in the asking. And each asking if she wanted some candy. Then shoving a piece of candy bar in her mouth each time they asked. They pulled out the loads and put them in a dozen cigarettes, then made her smoke each one of them. The laughter was loud at her startled reactions as each load exploded.

She was finally rendered unconscious, the purchase of chloroform doing its job. They unbound her, dressed her in a night gown and laid her in her own bed. She awoke hours later and notified the police. They told her that she must have been dreaming. The culprits’ actions were those of someone’s nocturnal delusions. They advised her to stay away from spicy foods and not to watch any criminal based television shows for awhile. Especially right before going to bed.

When she relayed the experience to us, we snickered and let her know we agreed with the police. “No chips and salsa for you!” we quipped. Her charade of niceties were much more tolerable for us from that point on. Especially since our monies were amassed from time to time to employ a certain group of hired hands to perform a special duty. Law enforcement ultimately recommended that she see a doctor to help with her nightmares. “There’s medicine out there for that.” they offered.