To: username who wrote (8481 ) 3/4/1998 8:00:00 PM From: Jacques Chitte Respond to of 71178
Bub climbed out of the pit, nursing his elbow. He was completely covered in dark mud from head to toe. A straggling leech slid out of his shorts. He picked it up and pondered it like a backwoods Hamlet. "This sucks", he observed, and stepped on the leech, which exploded with a satisfying splat. The yard of Casa yadayada was deserted. The barbacoa out front was still in preparation, as evidenced by the smell of marinated chicken singeing over the coals, as well as the conversational voices of several women. Bub went into the Casa through the back door. He went to Eeemerelda's bathroom, a venue which was familiar to him from a previous adventure. He stepped into the quarter-acre of marble-and-gold shower stall and turned the shower on Hot without bothering to strip. As the soothing jet of pure, sweet rainwater poured over him, he took off his boots and washed them of a few pounds of a lateral soil survey of the entire continent. At regular intervals a new article of clothing slapped wetly onto the shower floor. After fifteen minutes, Bub was feeling human again. He'd found some of the gardener's clothes in Eeemelda's closet. The fit was actually none too bad. Bub went into Juan's study and opened any drawers which were not or poorly locked. He did not find his Casull, but he did find a staggering array of guns, drugs, and feelthy peectures. He ignored all but a Vicodin and a Colt Python, one of the gorgeous first-run ones in blue. As his vest and holster were commandeering a drying rack in the bathroom, he tucked the hogleg into the belt of his new trousers. Then he put on a aht and sunglasses from Juan's dresser. (It's simply amazing how often this will pass a cursory examination.) He stepped into the front yard. His attention on the barbacoa (which smelled somewhere past great to a physically beat fella like Bub) was diverted by a roar, as from a stadium, in a clearing annexed to the chicken range. Bub stealthily made his way into the bleachers. There he saw the old prospector himself, complete with mule, being forcibly escorted onto the mud floor of the arena.