***
Tired and hungry, I arrive home. Kate sits in front of our tiny hut, stirring something in the pot. I feel intrigued and scared: today it's not her usual Primus, but the rare-occasion coal briquettes. It will be either a major culinary break-through, or a miserable culinary failure.
“Hi, Runner, what's for dinner?” I ask.
“A rabbit stew! With bok choy and potatoes! History in the making! Even Ma approved.”
“Rabbit? Wow! I can't wait for such a luxury.”
“I can't wait too. From down here, it smells so nice. Wash your hands. If you're not ready in three minutes, I'll gulp it all myself.”
I follow the advice, and exactly three minutes later we dine.
“How was your search today?” Kate asks wielding her serving spoon.
“No good. Found nothing,” I mumble through a mouthful of hot stew. The major culinary break-through it is: my wife has surpassed all expectations. Although, I suspect my Mom has something to do with this.
“Can I guess?”
“OK, guess!”
She raises the serving spoon. “OK. My magic spoon is telling me… Telling me… One. This morning, Woxman fell into a ditch. Down to his waist. The local population found it exceptionally funny. Two. Somebody came to Chen's shack in the night to look for something. All the books were on the floor. Three. You decided to call Python. Because Woxman had no pants, Wile E. Coyote had to ride to the China-Three to make a call. Did I get it right?”
I quietly choke on the rabbit. Almost to death.
“Ouch! Sorry. Want me to whack you on the back?” Kate says overseeing my recovery.
“But… But how did you know?” I finally regain my breath.
“Wrong. You must say: but how did you know, Holmes?”
“Fine! But how did you know, Holmes?”
“Dear Watson, I wrote a monograph on the development of telepathic abilities by eating rabbit stew with bok choy and potatoes…”
“Stop being silly.”
“You should read the monograph, Watson! The rabbit stew does not develop telepathic abilities whatsoever. The best result is obtained by substituting the rabbit with a river rat.”
I choke on the ‘rabbit’ once again. Kate promptly saves me from a terrible death by delivering the promised whack to my back. For a girl of her size, she has a formidable whack. The continuous practice with skateboard works that way.
“OK, I will not torture you any longer. Today I went to the China-Five myself. Spied for half a day and bought this rabbit.”
“No offense. Is it a rabbit? Or a coypu?”
“How do you call it? Co-oypu-u? Texans are funny. Coypu. Must remember. Yes, dear, the stew is a river rat. You must know that our family budget can't support a rabbit-habit. But the rat is perfectly fresh – from your all-agricultural teenager volunteers. Just don't pretend you haven't eaten rats before.”
“No, Runner, nothing wrong with rat-meat. When we moved here, rats were on the menu at least once a week. And not even the river rats. The gray city rats too. But I must admit, your stew tastes nothing like a coypu. My compliments to the chef.”
“Your Mom is a chef. I am not even a sou-chef. A mere scullion.”
“Put me more of your rabbit, scullion… But wait… How come we didn't see you in the China Patch?”
“Kha-kha-ah… Twice a day – no such Rule!”
“What did you say? Oh, shit! That beggar! Wait, wait. The guy wasn't like you. He had knees!”
“Our two Korean pillows fulfilled the role. Two below-knee stumps – two pillows.”
“And where did you get the wheelchair?”
“Went to the local market and asked the military vets to help the Police. Being without legs myself, I didn't even need to do much convincing. In ten minutes the fellow vets provided everything: the uniform, the medals, the sun-glasses. Easy…”
“And the girl who pushed the wheelchair?”
“You didn't recognize her? Good I convinced the little beauty to dress in rags and smear herself with ash.”
“So who is she?”
“Our neighbor. From the Korean-Two. Remember, how I pulled her on our raft? During the hurricane? She kept asking me where her Teddy Bear was.”
“Oh! Right. I even thought: why did she look so familiar?”
“You have natural observation skills, Watson.”
“OK, stop being silly again. Better tell me why you needed all this masquerade. For sure, you unearthed something Python, Woxman, and I didn't even look at.”
“Let's do it this way. First, I am going to ask you two or three questions, and then I will tell you my theory.”
“It's a deal, partner.”
“Are we finishing the rabbit stew?”
“Is this your first question?”
“No, this is my proposal.”
I pass Kate my plate.
“OK, my first question. In your search team, you had four adults, is that right?”
“No. I had five. One man left a little earlier, you probably had not seen him.”
“Can you describe these five adults, briefly?”
“You know, the people in the China-Five, I don't know them that well. OK, listen in. Mister Duong-senior. He is the elected Patch Representative, so must help the Police. About sixty-five, but very active little man.”
“Little man?”
“Yeah, he's a shorty. I'm not tall, but he's only to about my shoulder. With thin gray beard like Comrade Ho Chi Minh.”
“I didn't see the man. Was he the one who ran way?”
“He didn't run away. As a Patch Rep, he had a good excuse. A land dispute: someone wanted to re-measure the rice paddies.”
“OK. Comrade Ho Chi Minh we can skip for now. Next?”
“Mister Duong-junior, the Rep's son. About forty years old. Tall and bony.”
“In a straw rain-hat? With little mustache?”
“That's him. The next is Missis Lim, a widow. About thirty or thirty-five, a veggie lady. But the main calling in her life – is to spy on her neighbors. If there is a good gossip to deliver, who cares about the veggies! She would not miss the search for the missing neighbor, not in her life.”
“I've seen her too. She does look like a scandalous person. The others?”
“The last two, I don't know them at all. A young man by the western name of Na-Na-Nathan, he didn't tell me his Chinese name, and I didn't ask.”
“Na-Na-Nathan?”
“Yeah. The guy is shell-shocked, just from the Army. He was in Romania. In Ploiesti, some freaking Ukrainians hit his platoon with Russian 122 mil Grad. So the guy was sent home to recover. I decided to assign the vet to an easy duty, but he was doing fine. Ran no worse than the boys.”
“Some people say shell-shocked is for life. Personally, I'd rather lose my legs. Who was the last person in your search team?”
“Mister Lee. Fifty-five years old, approximately. Solidly built, medium height, gray hair. His shack is next to the Chen's, right across the path.”
“Excellent description. I withdraw my statement about your observation skills. About this Mister Lee, can you tell me some more? Did you come to his shack in the morning?”
“No. Lee came to me. Said: I just learned my neighbor gone missing, Deputy. Would you mind if I help with the search? Strange question: if I mind! Woxman was pissing steam I hadn't got two hundred volunteers.”
“Do you know what this Mister Lee is doing for living?”
“I believe he is a scrap-catcher. Goes to the 'Fill, buys good finds from the scavengers. Repairs and sells.”
“Does he live alone?”
“I have no idea.”
“After lunch, when you and Woxman went to the Chen's… The shack on the other side of the path was locked.”
“Well, maybe Lee went to see his suppliers at the 'Fill. That's what many scrap-cat
chers do in the afternoon.”
“OK. The second question. That Mister Lee of yours. By any chance, does he have a Chinese Calligraphy hobby?”
“How the hell would I know?”
“Never mind. I have enough information already. Do you like the stew?”
“Why do you even ask? This stew is a pinnacle of your cooking career. My Mom must be jealous. Get ready for more ‘just-in-case’ food containers. They will come with double intensity.”
“Ouch! Now I'm in panic! A Category-10 hurricane our little shack will not hold for sure. I must give up cooking.”
“Give up? Hey! You have just started!”
“Just kidding. Coffee?”
“You promised to enlighten me why you went through the China Patches on the wheelchair.”
“Let's sit at the porch. Holmes has to smoke his pipe. How about you, doctor Watson? Brave enough to share a To-Ma-Gochi?”
“Doctor Watson will be smoking his tobacco,” I say, reaching for my box. “Stop teasing me. I know you come up with some cool idea.”
But Kate never misses an opportunity to tease me few minutes more. Without saying a word, she gets her bag, crawls through the door, ledges herself comfortably on the second tread of the stair, using the third tread as an arm-rest. Now she slowly, thoughtfully rolls her cigarette. Not until her famous Gunner Mermaid lighter clicks closed she starts talking.
“My dear Watson! Yesterday, we completely ignored the testimony of two key witnesses in our case.” The puff of sweet-smelling smoke dissipates in the cool evening air.
“Who exactly?” I sit at the lower tread and start rolling a cigarette of my own.
“You and Tan, of course.”
“What do you mean: ignored? Tan said there were specks of dried blood at the floor. Python checked the floor with his Luminol. He was confident somebody wiped the blood, right? You concluded Victor Chen had an accomplice. Right conclusion. Tan saw the blood, and later the blood was gone.”
“That's it! The blood was gone. But instead of the blood – something else suddenly appeared in the shack.”
“What?”
“Look carefully,” Kate reaches her bag and draws the cell phone, “This morning, I called Tom and convinced him to send me his first photo of the room. The view from the front door.”
“It's against the procedures. Tom is not supposed to send the scene photos left and right.”
“Ah! Procedures! Python follows those procedures only if he is dead-bored tracing the bootlegged gasoline. Or if he has a whole chicken inside and feels sleepy, as any self-respecting reptile. But if he is hungry and aggressive, he doesn't give shit about procedures. Cold-blooded reptilian indifference to the Police brass, instructions, and data security, all together! Remember the Sheldon Butcher case?”
“Rumors were he hacked his way into some Pentagon database.”
“An epic win! In comparison to the freaking Pentagon, the breach this time is not a big deal. I was the one who reported the incident first place, right? If I had two legs, I would be at the crime scene with everybody else and see everything with my own eyes. You'd better look at the screen.”
“Well, I am looking.”
“Is it any different from what you've seen yesterday?”
“No.”
“And if you look closer?”
“Do you take me for an idiot? Besides, there were another one and a half police officers at the scene. I am assuming each trainee for twenty-five percent of a whole policeman. Then, the room was checked by Tom. He is a top-notch professional.”
“No offense, Mister Coyote. I just want to make my point very clear. Let me continue.”
“I'm listening.”
“I called Tan at the Beat and forwarded him the same photo.”
“Oh! I completely forgot about our birthday boy. How did he do today?”
“He was fine. Completed a high-profile case of his own. A sow theft at the Vietnamerican Patch.”
“A theft of what?”
“Take it easy. The case is closed. No theft, just a fugitive. After some tough negotiations, the swine decided to return into captivity. Never mind. So I asked Tan the same question: is the photo any different from what you've seen yesterday?”
“And he?”
“He said the same as you: no.”
“It's hardly surprising.”
“So I asked: what about the blood at the floor?”
“Who can see these on a telephone screen?”
“Yeah, he said the same. But I insisted we looked closer.”
“Well?”
“So he looked some more and said: Kate, you know, on the photo, I see that Chinese scroll. Like a Chinese Calligraphy thing: a proverb, a Confucius saying, or something. I am not sure, but I think when I came to the shack, there was no scroll.”
“Wait, pass me the phone,” I look at the screen once again, “This scroll you are talking about. When Victor and I came to the shack, the scroll was just like on the photo. But today – I don't remember I've seen that thing on the wall!”
“One hundred percent sure the calligraphy has not been on the wall. I haven't endured Woxman's generous five-bucks donation for nothing! Now, try to remember carefully, dear, it's very important. From the wheelchair I can't see the whole room, right? On the floor, on the bed, on the shelves… Perhaps, this scroll is still lying somewhere in the shack?”
“Now I remember clearly. The Chinese scroll was not in the shack today. Sure! The room is not that large. But how did you know there must be this scroll first place?”
“Please play by the rules. You must say: but how did you know, Holmes?”
“Oh, stop it! Just explain.”
“And here comes my second witness. The second witness! You, my dear Watson!”
“I?”
“You and Victor. You run to the Patch-Five in great hurry. All the way, Victor's sure his father is stubbed to death. You open the door, and: bang! Victor suddenly changes his mind. As if there are fire letters hanging in the air. Victor Chen! Keep your mouth shut! Now, presumably somebody wants to write these fire letters in such way that his Mandarin-literate addressee understands them for sure, but a Korean police officer has no clue. What language should this person use? Arabic? English? Korean?”
“There is a leap of faith, Holmes. You automatically presume the policeman can't read Mandarin. We have plenty of Chinamericans in the Police Force.”
“One. The fact you and Tan are both Koreamerican – is common knowledge in the GRS. On the West side, everybody even knows the Beat clerk is not an Amerasian. Yesterday, two 'Fill scavengers called me by name and offered me a ride. Two. The Chinese wisdom, especially if written in Chinese characters, allows for free translation. No need to write: keep your mouth shut! For a smart addressee, you could write something far less obvious.”
“I'm sure you have already translated the scroll. Did you use the Internet?”
“Much simpler! If your cell phone doesn't have Chinese installed, how to enter the Chinese characters? And even if you get yourself a Chinese keyboard, I am not that proficient… To make the story short, at the market I found two Chinese dudes and asked them to translate the scroll for me. The first said: ‘Careless words bite like poisonous snakes’.”
“And the second?”
“The second translation wasn't as poetic. ‘Wrong words get relatives killed.’ But instead of ‘killed’ there could be also ‘destroyed’ or ‘poisoned’. Mandarin is not like Korean or Japanese. In Korean, you have a fifty-fifty mix of phonetic symbols and abstract sino-characters, so the specific meaning is usually more straight-forward.”
“Hey, look who is teaching me Korean! But your version is very nice. Let me summarize. After Tan leaves to call you from China-Three, someone hangs this scroll. At the same time, he or she wipes the blood from the floor. I've paid no attention to the scroll. After all, the
Chinese hieroglyphs are too different from Korean. But Victor Chen reads the scroll, understands it correctly, and demands himself the Fifth Amendment.”
“Right! By the way, did he ask for the Fifth?”
“Woxman told me so. Victor even refused the free attorney.”
“Perfect. It all fits in with my deduction. The person who hung the scroll. He or she is either an ethnic Chinese or knows Mandarin as a second-native language. He must be an enthusiast of Chinese Calligraphy, because he decided to use the Chinese proverb as a method of clandestine communication, very clever indeed. He is presumably from the GRS, because he knows the local policemen are not very strong in Mandarin. Finally, he is well-acquainted with Victor Chen.”
“How is the last one?”
“If you are not sure whether your recipient can not only read, but also correctly understand the Chinese proverb, why take the risk and hang the scroll? And most importantly, this person must live somewhere in the vicinity, very close indeed.”
“To have time to run home and write the scroll?”
“Even if he wasn't trained in calligraphic writing himself, he could have the scroll with the fitting proverb in his home collection. And if he had to write it from scratch, he also must run home. We are not in ancient China, and the calligraphers don't wander the streets with ink and brushes. Even more to it. Our calligrapher must have the key for the Chen's shack. So, our man is an immediate neighbor, a relative, or a very close friend. Who else would you trust the key from your house?”
“Do you think this man came at night and searched for something hidden in the books?”
“He scattered the books, but he didn't search.”
“Why?”
“He just wanted his scroll back. He knew that one police officer was at the scene before the scroll was placed at the wall. If you just take one thing, it will be obvious. So, he must make a big mess. Breaking stools and crashing plates were not an option – the neighbors could hear. So he scattered the books.”
“But why did he want his scroll back? If not for our Sherlock-on-skate, Tan would not remember a thing!”
“I don't know why he wanted the scroll. I have no telepathic abilities, despite I'm so full with… What's the name again? Coypu? Most likely, our calligrapher is afraid somebody may see the scroll later. Let say, someone from the Calligraphy Club. Imagine some old Chinese man comes to you and says: do you know, Deputy? That scroll in Chen's shack! It looks like Mister Lee wrote it! Only him draws this hieroglyph in such graceful stroke. And so you think to yourself: should I go to the China-Five and talk to Mister Lee one more time?”
“Mister Lee? Is he just an example, or you suspect him of murder?”
“Mister Lee is not a murderer. But after my visit to the Patch-Five, and with all the info you told me this evening, I don't just suspect. I know the murderer identity and the location of the dead body.”
“You – know?”
“One hundred percent. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Again, from my favorite book.”
“OK, Holmes! Enlighten your dumb Watson!”
“The body is presently with Mister Lee in his shack. And by tomorrow morning it will be in the irrigation ditch.”
“Explain why.”
“Remember, yesterday we had three options how the perps might get rid of the body?”
“Not three. Five! The number four was about some magic mushrooms and hypnosis and the number five was about some little green men with a flying saucer.”
“Stop teasing me. So today I went myself to the China-Five and realized yesterday I missed the fourth option altogether. In one of the stories, Holmes was telling Watson it's dangerous to make conclusions without knowing all the facts. A mental lock of sorts.”
“And what was your mental lock?”
“I placed myself in the perp's position. What would I do with a dead body if it was in this shack. Our shack, in Korean Patch-One! But there is a huge difference. In our Patch, the paths between the shacks are wide and straight. We are an ‘Obama’ slum, from right after the Meltdown. Back then, they left a lot of space, for the cars. We don't use cars, but the paths are still straight, and you can see everything, end-to-end. But the China-Five was started just three or four years ago, and they knew the cars would not be back. Their paths are narrow and all curved. In some places, even a wheelchair can barely pass.”
“I see what you are saying. So the fourth option is to carry the body to the near-by shack, right?”
“Absolutely. In the Patch like ours that would be totally impossible during the day time, but in the new slums, if you act quickly, chances the others see you are rather small. Two men can do it easy enough.”
“Why: two men?”
“Mister Lee and Mister Chen. Two men. Of course, I may be wrong. Having three men is also possible. But less likely.”
“So, after all, Victor Chen killed his father?”
“But no! Did I say: Victor Chen killed? Listen… On the second thought, wait! First, make more coffee and bring the brownies. And promise me to wash the pot. I've cooked you rabbit, remember?”
“It's a shameless blackmail! If you continue this way, we must report you to the Police,” I obey and start our Primus.
“Are you washing the pot, Deputy?”
“Yes, ma'am. The Deputy will be washing the pot.”
“Accepted. So it was like this, my dear Watson. Mister Chen-senior comes home and finds his double.”
I burst into maniacal laughter. The neighbor shack window opens and an old lady sticks her head out in obvious disapproval. The Slum Rule is to keep the things quiet, especially after dark.
“I didn't expect such a prank,” I whisper to Kate while bowing an apology to the neighbor lady. “You've tricked me into the promise to wash the pot in exchange for some science fiction story. Not the type of Sci-Fi I enjoy.”
“I promise, Coyote, there is no prank. Can't you listen to the end before laughing like mad?”
“OK. I am listening to your cheap prank Sci-Fi. Skeptically.”
“Have you seen the titles of the Chen's books, Mister Skeptic?”
“Yes, I have. Python believes they are about some very advanced engineering. And Woxman thinks it's some kind of military technology.”
“Your Woxman is not a total fool. Correct: it's some advanced military technology.”
“I'm telling you once more: he is not my Woxman. Why do you think somebody would jump on developing some advanced military technology in the slums?”
“I'm not saying Chen-senior is working on military technology now. But he could work on it earlier, before the Meltdown. It was something very important. Do you know the Chinese were constantly looking for their former compatriots, the immigrants and their family members? It was the best way for extracting the military technology intelligence from the USA.”
“Well. And why to have the double? Spy games?”
“Let say, you've decided to ransack the Chen's residence. The only way to do it in the night – you must kill the owners. Besides, searching in the night, with a flashlight in your teeth – you may miss something.”
“So you do it in the daytime.”
“Correct. But how to walk into the shack during the day time? The neighbors will see you. So your agent has to be a double of either Chen-junior or Chen-senior. The Chen-senior is more likely, the neighbors see him at the Patch during daytime. The exact copy is not required, he only needs to look like Chen from far. The main thing is the clothing, but that's easy. In the slums, nearly all the men use the second-hand Army uniforms. Having Chen's photo and several thousand dollars in your pocket, you can get all you need at the flea market, and without arousing suspicion.”
“And how your double can unlock the door?”
“Are you a cop or a barber? This type of lock can be picked in seconds. Of
course, you need proper tools.”
“Why do you think Mister Lee can't be your spy?”
“He can't. He would have known that once a month Victor Chen returns from work earlier than usual, and his father also may return a bit early.”
“OK. Your version is accepted. But I am still skeptical. Let say, Chen-senior comes home and observes Chen-two, his double, searching through the shack. What's next?”
“Chen-one was expecting an intrusion. That's why he carried the gut-driver. Bang, and Chen-two is lying on the bed with a quarter-inch hole in his chest. Chen-one rushes to his friend, Mister Lee, just across the path. Together, they watch Victor Chen comes home, glances into the shack, and runs away.”
“Presumably, the son did not know his father from the double?”
“I think he didn't. Imagine you come home this evening, get your bike chained to the pole. My skate is at the door. Runner, where are you? Silence. So you open the door, and in the far corner there is a legless Afro girl of about my size, in my second-hand Navy uniform. And on the floor at the entrance – there is the bloody gut-driver. By the way, if you get killed by a gut-driver, your face will be all-warped from agony. The death from the gut-driver wound is seldom instantaneous, there is pain shock, all such stuff.”
“Sounds cool… You must be writing horror stories.”
“So, under such circumstance, would you think: my Kate has a double, or rather: my Kate is killed?”
“I understand your logic. What's next?”
“Chen-senior and Lee were occupied with something more urgent, and couldn't stop Victor Chen's departure. Victor grabbed the gut-driver and fled. Lee and Chen-senior realized he was running to the Police. Where else to run? So what our good neighbors would do?”
“They can also come to the Police and give a statement.”
“And so they would have to explain the Chen's double? Most importantly: if someone sent one double, he may send another, or arrange something equally nasty. Hence, the only logical way out: the double's body must disappear, and Chen Te-Sheng must also disappear. If Victor Chen keeps his mouth shut, and the body is not found, no way someone can build a case.”
“It's not unreasonable. Further on?”
“Elementary. Chen-senior and Lee carry the body across the path – into the Lee's shack. The distance is less than two yards. Five seconds – and they are done. Mister Lee writes the Chinese saying. Or selects the appropriate one from his collection, it doesn't matter. Although it seems to me he was writing it himself, so it took some time. He probably knows calligraphy. At this point, here comes our birthday-boy Tan, so Chen and Lee think that all is lost. However, they get lucky. There is no dead body in the shack, and Tan is confused. He jumps on the bike and rides away – to clarify the address. Lee runs to the shack to hang the scroll. Chen-senior wipes the floor. After that, we have a couple of options. Chen Te-Sheng may leave at once, or Lee hides him in his shack till the evening. And in the night, Lee quietly gets into the Chen's shack to recover the scroll. And he scatters the books, to make it look like a burglary.”
“You are so cool at making versions!”
“My To-Ma-Gochi helps.”
“The only way to prove everything – is to go right now and confront Mister Lee.”
“Not right now.”
“Why?”
“One. We must finish our coffee. Eat the brownie, I am full.”
“And two?”
“Two. Lee is not home yet.”
“How do you know?”
“Put yourself in his place. One tiny room, the dead body in the corner. You can't open the door and the window. How long can you sit like this?”
“You are right, as always.”
“I think Lee volunteered to your search team today in order not to be at his house in the morning. What a perfect excuse! Where is our Mister Lee? He's usually at home in the morning? Here he is: on the rice paddies, helping the Police. And more to that, he has joined the search to find a good spot to dump the body tonight. Some place, which has been thoroughly looked through, so nobody will look there again.”
“You are right! It was exactly Mister Lee who shouted today there was a body under water, but there was just a snag. As if Lee lured Woxman into the ditch on purpose.”
“You see, everything comes together. Lee was conditioning the Deputy Investigator to have a negative reflex for the irrigation ditches. I will not be surprised if he dumps the body to that very Woxman's ditch. Do you remember the place well?”
“Sure thing, I remember. What do we do now?”
Kate looks at the phone's screen.
“We will go at half past nine. Before eleven, Lee will not dare to drag the body out. We have ninety minutes.”
“I understand we don't bother to call Woxman.”
“You understand right. No way I share my deductions with this greedy bastard. He didn't want to share five shitty bucks with the wounded veteran, and my version is worth way more than five bucks.”
“Do you want to invite Tan instead?” As for this clown Woxman, I am not keen to see him around. Good my dear little wife didn't know why I was ready to bit shit out of Mister Deputy Investigator today.
“Na-ah. Our birthday boy should have some rest. He had a rough day… That swine – almost got him crippled. Besides, Mister Lee is not dangerous. Doctor Watson can take his gun. Will you remember to take your gun, Watson?”
“As long as I have my shorts, Holmes, I have a back pocket, and as long as I have my back pocket I have something in it.”
“It was said not by Watson, but by Greg Lestrade, a Scotland Yard detective. And he had trousers, not shorts.”
“Only an idiot would keep the gun in the back pocket. Personally I stick the gun under my belt and cover the grip with my T-shirt. Difficult to see, easy to pull out.”
“Look who is teaching me how to hide a gun! OK, Watson, the quotation is accepted. Let's go into the house. I will give my tired deputy a refreshing massage.”
“It looks like not Tan but I is the birthday boy today. First the rabbit stew, and now – the refreshing massage. Plus the working version in the bargain.”
“But not for free, Mister Wile E. Coyote, not for free. After the massage, you must chase the Road Runner, do you?”
I don't know about the cartoon characters, but this particular Wile E. Coyote is ready to chase this particular Road Runner any time, no massage required. Despite my Road Runner has no legs, our chases are exhausting. The little shack will be shaking, and the neighbors – watch it with envy…