"Oh shit. I'm sorry."

I put the turkey back on the pavement and give him a slight boot to get him running.

Man. I'm making a great impression upon the people in my new town.

I ask her. "Ummm...do you happen to know this guy? Miracleman?"

Penny's off talking to some woman I've never met. Looks like she did catch something while I was checking my snares. I've now got a brace of rabbit, and a bit of a hunger coming on.

Don't you hate it when that happens? You've put your bag down for a moment to take a sip of mead, when suddenly six turkeys come storming into the bar and one of the buggers swoops down on your bag and steals it. Only in Sang Sacre. They're off out the door with their loot before you can say Jack Robinson, and I drop my tankard and leg it after the wretched bird.

.....some minutes later, with my sheathed sword clattering against my thigh and my precious bag still clutched in the blasted thing's beak, I see it heading towards a strange woman who is busy reading a paper plane. I thank all that I hold dear when she has the presence of mind to grab the damn bird by the feet.

I look around and it seems that several of the other turkeys have already run into the Turkey-grabbing lady. Bloody Bird Gangs, with their heist-pulling. Honestly, I really should have a word with Theresa. Hmph.

"Sorry, could I just - I think that's my bag that it dropped. Yes. Great. That was very quick reacting there."

I've now got a brace of rabbit, and a bit of a hunger coming on

You realize that Clovis is going to watch you very closely from now on ...

Nice to meet you, Aimee. As a matter of fact, I have an appointment to see Miracleman tomorrow - a business proposition - although judging from the way he aims a paper airplane, he'll be a tough sell.

Oh, and this is ita. We met in another . . . world

If you'll excuse me I'm going to chase that turkey until one of us drops of exhaustion. ita, do you want to meet in that hobbit bar in a bit?

I tear around the paths as quickly as my legs will carry me. I may be on the stumpy side, but surely I can outrun a turkey.

I round a corner and . . . well, I'll be dipped. There's a whole, what, coven? of turkeys and they seem to be gloating over a bag of loot. Crooked turkeys! I have absolutely no compunction about diving into the group like Iggy Pop. Like Iggy's fickle fans, the turkeys make no attempt to catch me, but I manage to get one by the throat. As his buddies scatter, I grab my hunting knife and dispatch the bird as quickly as possible.

Thief or not, every quarry is worthy of the proper rituals, and I am careful not to leave out any of the correct thanks or sacrifices. As soon as the entrails are buried, I bag the bird and start hauling it back to town. The turkey is on one shoulder, and on the other I carry what seems to be a very nice designer satchel. I hope the bar has a lost and found and, cripes, no dress code.

"What can Miracleman do for you today?"

What an odd thing to be appearing on my wall, but that name seems so fami.... Ah, the memories are coming back. Bastard can give me back 500 years of my life, that's what he can do for me today. Maybe it's time to return to the living and have some vengence. That and some good food, the underworld has never been known for it's cuisine.

I conjure an elevator door and step it as it opens with a bell toll. With a press of the single button I'm traveling back to the living, tracing the message back to somewhere in the vincinity to its origin, and listening to annoying music. The elevator comes to a stop and the doors fly open. A few wraiths that hitched a ride come drifting out, seeking the shadows.

A person here appears to be angry about my elevator smashing up through the ground in the middle of his dwelling. I draw my sword and put an end to the annoyance. I've forgotten what a mess an annhilating blade makes.

Time to find a place to eat, returing the living world always makes me a bit peckish.

Ooh. Just a wee bit hungover this morning. I spent a bit more time in the bar that I had planned, but how could I not? Such nice, interesting people ita knows here.

I decide to grab breakfast and a hair of the dog. Back to The Prancing Pony, which is the only place I know. That is, this town is full of bars, taverns, cantinas, cafes and grottos, but I've been too busy to check them out. Gotta fix that.

I order a spiked coffee and a plate of ham and eggs from the manager, who seems to be alone at this early hour. As he slides the smoking mug of coffee to my seat, he leans over and whispers, "I wouldn't count on making your meeting today."

"What?" How does he know about my meeting? Was I talking that much last night.

"Shhhh!" He gestures to the corner. We're not alone after all. There's a hooded figure - man or woman I can't tell - ravenously scarfing down a huge plate of waffles.

"What's this about," I whisper cautiously.

"I'm not sure, but if you're planning to visit Miracleman, you might want to take an iron umbrella. Something's going down."

I am overcome with the sinking feeling that this business venture - like every one I've attempted beforehand - is doomed to failure. Sigh. Back to teaching, I guess.

"What can Miracleman do for you today?"

I walk past the wall and see the flames. Funny it should ask. Miracleman doing something for me is exactly why I came here. 15 years of searching for that "wizard" (I always say it in quotes in my head). I continue wandering through the night.

Finally, dawn breaks and I am in front on some horse place. Hmmm. I wonder what their waffles are like.

I step in and see the woman whose hunt I inadvertantly kinda ruined. I sit next to her and inquire.

"Hi. I'm still really sorry about the turkey. About Miracleman, will you be seeing him today? Would you mind if I tagged along? I have some, uh, business with him."