Breakfast had been set out, but none of the servants were around. I seemed to have the place to myself. Just in case they had deserted, I snaffled a couple of bagels to see me through the day.
Which turned out to be wise. I went for a long walk, and nothing was stirring. The display at the shopping mall told me it was 40 degrees, which is about 4 or 5 in new money, but there was a stiff breeze blowing. The seven dollars I spent in Walmarts on a puffy jacket proved to be money well spent. I came back braced and uncobwebbed.
Right in the middle of the walk, while I was actually crossing a big wide a road junction, I got the key idea for the story that's been holding me up. It's really just as well there was nobody about, or I might have been in trouble.
Lunch was a turkey bagel with "Miracle on 34th Street". And some of the beer I'd gone all the way to Bowling Green to fetch.
The bar I found on Wednesday night was themed South-Western, meaning Arizona-New Mexico. It had a stuffed animal head over the bar, a very large, horned rabbit. It looked very convincing, but it is a mythical beast of the desert, known as a "Jackalope". After the "34th Street", there was a program of those wonderful Pixar shorts, the best being "Presto and his Hat". But there was also one I hadn't seen before, called "Boundin'", featuring, would you believe, a jackalope.
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If (When) you get your own grandchildren sitting on your knee and they ask you to tell them a story, then you may make the connection that a Jackalope may be a Gruffalo in disguise.
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