I told the time merchant my plan but confessed I wasn’t looking forwards, or backwards, to stuffing both Oldman and myself into Fly’s Teleport Booth.
“Hatrack, forget your hangups.” the old clock retearman said.
“You are about to embark in my new puppy.
A two seater with a look that will sleigh you.”
It did look like something horse drawn, if you happen to know a horse that can draw.
We climbed aboard, set the dials to our last visit and whiz, bang, there we were back in Baba Alley.
Oldman was sitting in the Five And Dine with his smoking jacket just recently put out.
“Okay”, I said, “before the deja view clears up and I take you home, what is suppose to happen?”
But you’ve already taken me home, dear boy.”
From the locked jaw look in his eye, I knew I’d never get him to buzz off from his B-girl again.
So I tried to get the mixologist, Sue Veneer, to take Connell’s seat and come away with me from the cash bar.
But when the Moona Leta lookalike refused, I did what any tourist would do, took her picture and ran.
It was only later when I got the painting home that I noticed the nervous signature of Lee Nardo Deflinchy.