Mister James Gondola was listing to a song on his gramophone. It was by his favorite “Rock and Roll” team, “The Pink Freud.” He had a sudden craving for an ice cream, but none was to be had today. Messers Fat Head and Dumbbell made sure of that. Iced cream distracted the citizens of Blisstonia from more important functions such as spreading insulting rumors about pirates and pretending to be ungrateful when the pirates’ Grandmas brought pigeon-flavored cupcakes to share. Little did they realize that pirates have feelings too.

None of this mattered much to James Gondola at the moment. He was much more concerned with trying to wipe out memories of last night’s terrible Commedia dell’arte performance down at the truck stop. If any evening could be said to be an acidjazzed evening, that was it. James was sure of that.

Someone knocked at the door of the tarpaper lean-to in which James currently lived. James had dreaded this day for many years. He knew that it couldn’t be anyone other than…