Chapter Eleven, Part Four: Bonito FlakesMature

…there’s no need. Someone’s been right outside the door for the last quarter-hour.” 

“What the devil? Is that… is that Pasmodius? Oh god it is.” 

“Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. Burn the wick at both ends, so to speak.” 

“No-one Knows Pasmo unless they’re just as insane as he is! And how the hell do you know he isn’t rattlebrained?” 

“ Hush. I just do. Or rather I did, a very long time ago.” 

“You’ve lost it. I’m letting him in, if only to keep you from talking. The fall obviously broke your head.” 

“You mean my bum, I suppose. Last time I checked, I wasn’t an Auton. They aren’t interchangeable.” 

“Well, since the old clattrap has managed to horn in, why don’t we share some of the spoils?” 

“You mean give that macadamias for brains librarian a share in the whole cornucopia? Do you think that’s wise?” 

“Didn’t you just say… nevermind. I’m letting him in. Hey, what’s that on your hand… that ring, it’s…” 

“Nothing you need concern your pretty head over. There, see? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

<grumble>

The End

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