Abel waved his cane in surrender and sent me back through his hall of montezuma to the door of triple E.
On a desk was a stack of risky photos which I put in my pocket, but no jar of pimentos.
Those, he swore. he sold months ago to Professor Gobbles, the owner of Jackassic Park.
I didn’t think my Keister could make it all the way to Basketune, so I caught the “Blue Streak”, at the Blunder Bus Station, and headed up island, where I got the Blue Ferry to Warp Seed Harbour.
I flagged a cab that took me through Ripe Pillage and up to the surly gates of Jackassic Park.
Under the legend: “Laugh Clone, Laugh”, was a padlock indicating it was closed for the night.
Now I always say the only good defence is a grate off fence, which I found soon enough.
After I wriggled through, it was as quiet as church lice, except for the distant hee-hawing of the giant pre-hysterical beasts.
They must have heard me as well because it wasn’t lawn before my ass was grass, surrounded by a group of the biggest donkeys that ever brayed on my kind.