Young Ruby had fallen asleep at the dining table while reading Mabel’s Diary No. 3 again. Such fascinating stuff: Fishers Island and New Island are one! “3 palms and the truth,” Mabel kept repeating as a mantra within. And she *must* visit this Artist Point Interactive, where she left off reading before cutting the z’s. Maybe, perhaps… tonight? But Mabel also warned never EVER go in there alone. What were those two potheads thinking when promoting it as a so-called up and coming New Island art gallery, hmph? Didn’t they understand who was secretly the center of it all, this Hazel or Mrs. Hazelhurst or Mid Hazel? A powerful witch, and one not to be f-ck with according to the book by any means. That’s yet another reason this place should be named Fisher or perhaps Fishers Island overall. Ruby was the chosen namer of Queen Mabel. She and she alone had that power, that ability. But when to affect it?
Ruby checked the clock on the wall: 11:46. I wonder if that interesting tomboy lady Shirley Boot I met this morning when she came over here to see the potheads might want to accompanying me? Maybe I’ll give her a ring. Yes, a ring.
Now where was Mabel’s phone in this place? Oh yeah, she remembered. Upstairs now. With the potheads — their new business line until they set up something on their own, out of *our* house, pheh. She hated going up there…
… because it was always something like this.
“A little to the right, Marty,” Jay was saying, engrossed in the moment and not paying a bit of heed to the suddenly materialized Ruby. “No, a little to the left now. No, back to the right.”
Annie spotted the phone. A quick call and she’s out of this madhouse.