CHAPTER 7

The Great Blaather MbBlenzy needed help, and he wondered when on Earth it would arrive.

He could see David clearly now. In a literal visual sense anyway.

Blaather was only 3 feet tall. So he often needed help. He was also quite a nice guy, just often confused and melancholy. So he often needed emotional support. He often found it hard to make decisions. So he often needed someone around to tell him what to do.

He also had a special gift.

Some people can play piano. Blaather could suck people's creativity out through their tongue.

It was ironic that such small people attract so much attention, especially while sucking on famous rock star's tongues. You'd think small people would go unnoticed because of their size, and that rock star's antics would go unnoticed because, well, they were rock stars. But the human race has always been the peculiar child of the universe, and so it goes.

So Blaather waited for his help to arrive, all the while he sucked on his lollypop, which, considering he was in a train station bar, attracted much attention.

David was talking to a lady with the strangest earlobes he'd ever seen, and god knew, he'd seen some strange earlobes. He once tried sucking on them but found no inspiration flowing forth from them. Pity.

He found himself sitting...waiting... in a situation many of us have probably been in at many times in our lives. He needed (and wanted mind you) to suck on David Bowie's tongue, but didn't quite know how to accomplish this feat on his own. He needed assistance, and it was nowhere to be seen.

"Life sucks", he thought to himself.

CHAPTER 8

"Beware of Iman", she told him, and as she did, her earlobes blushed a deep red.

This is too much, went the dialogue in David's head, the next time Iman pressures me into taking drugs I'm just going to say NO!

"Iman is not Iman, she's not exactly normal, she's made of mindless metal"

Just smile and nod, a few more tequilas and this will all be over soon

"You must remember who you are"

David nodded.

"You will remember your journey, your home, your destiny"

"Mmmhmmm", he scratched his chin. The lady went on talking, but David's gaze started to wonder. He spotted a very small man sucking a lollypop, the man seem startled to be noticed. Then he felt something in his hand. His newly growing beard was falling out.

Now c'mon David, you can do this, just put two and two together... Iman pressuring you to do drugs, authority hounding you, strange earlobe people talking to you, lollypop sucking midgets watching you, beard falling out

"Evil Pop!", David exclamed without knowing quite where it came from.

Earlobe lady nodded. "Evil Pop", she said softly.

CHAPTER 9

Father McKenzie counted the vans. A pizza delivery van, a calble TV van, a tellecommunications van, a plumbers van, an electricians van and an ice cream van. It was an unusual amount of vans.

Something that also struck the father as odd was that the driver serving the kids in the ice cream van was wearing a dark suit and dark sunglasses. He also had a violin case resting on the passenger seat of his van.

Now was the time for a decision. Finish darning his socks, or get the hell out of there?

Being the clever man he was Father McKenzie decided to do both. He's darn his socks while getting the hell out of there. It's not as if he'd have anything else to do with his hands while he ran like crap.

Now, you may think darning socks while running like crap is rather difficult...but it's not...it's deceptively easy. Father McKenzie had learned this from his Tibettan Buddhist friends who had been darning socks while running like crap for generations. It was a cleansing ritual whose origins were lost in time.

The Father put his bass guitar, amp and water tank into his knapsack, all the while thinking, "I'd like to see them try showing this on television", and he was off. Running like crap and darning, leaving just a cardboard cutout of himself at the window, a cardboard cutout that...funnily enought...had not been there before.

It had the very suspicious feeling of something falling into place.

One sees great things from the valley,
only small things from the peak.

G.K. Chesterton