Donna Louise here tying my shoelaces. At the bank yesterday morning, I told the young female teller, “I plan to buy new running shoes. Unofficially it’s Sadie Hawkins Day tomorrow. I gotta be ready to catch a man.”
She asked, “Can’t you chase men every day?”
“These day, yes, but…” Then I thought, never mind. I’d end up explaining Dogpatch to a woman who won’t care.
Roshi told me to return after lunch to see Mr. Yamaguchi. When I did, he took me to his private office and put a hood over my head.
I hate hoods. My claustrophobia kicks in.
Roshi said, “Meditate. The hood is your own private meditation space. In case that doesn’t work, here’s a Xanax. Be one with the darkness.” Either the meditation or the medication worked.
Someone put me in a car. We drove for awhile. The car stopped. They led me into a house and up carpeted stairs. Someone unlocked a door, pulled the hood off my head and pushed me into the room slamming the door and locking it.
I stumbled. On my way to the floor, I saw Clematis sitting in the arms of an Asian man. Ito Yamaguchi?
Neither expressed any interest in my well-being. In fact, they didn’t move. Closer examination established they’d received a neuro-toxin injection that paralyzed their muscles. Clearly their hearts were beating and they were breathing, but nothing else.
I’d seen similar states in Borneo used by the forest people. That’s a story for another time.
Where was I? Oh, yes, in a room with a couple of stiffs. The door opens. In walks someone dressed as the blue Pokemon fish, Kyogre. In Japanese he told a crew of guys in black to “dump the blue fin tuna on the bed.”
They threw ten, huge, not fresh, fish on the bed as instructed. Fish Man said, “That’s enough. Now get out. These babies’ll explode in ten minutes.” He pressed a button on his cell phone. “I need to make sure this one [he pointed at me] doesn’t try anything.”
He thought I didn’t understand.
“Would you like tea while we wait for your friends to recover?” he asked.
He turned and I attacked. Thanks to the TKO training Guthrie, my personal bodyguard for the Miss Butter Cow Competition provided, I disabled Fish Man in seconds.
I opened the mouth of a tuna. The digital display showed nine minutes before we’d have enough tuna sushi to feed the neighborhood.
(To be continued…)