After finding out which one, Dr. Mouse has him lay on a gurney ready to go deeper into the bowels of the place.
“All the way back, Mr. Johnston,” Nurse Porcupeople urged. “I have you.”
“Wheel him away,” said Mouse, studying the newest form and seeing it is good. Ready for delivery.
“Sorry about the hole, Mr. Johnston.”
“Please. Call me Albert,” insisted the tall, black clothed man sitting before him, seeing each other not quite eye to eye like before but getting there. He wanted to make sure he was up close and personal with the troubled man, try to soothe his rather frayed nerves. Yes, Albert had issues. He moved from behind the desk to here, perched before him like another one of his birds.
“I have to separate the wheat from the chaff,” he explained, gazing into his face from slightly above. “As you probably noticed, all I have out there waiting any more are dummies, complete idiots.” Mouse looked down, trying to phrase his frame of mind in a more polite way. “I don’t have time for that any more,” he said, deciding to end that way. Albert’s turn now.
“I… understand?”
“You’re a real life person in this afterlife sort of situation. I appreciate that. You are tall but you can become quite small. That proves you are human. More effective than picking out chimneys on a house or signs on a road. This is not the DMV if you see what I’m saying.”
“Understand… I?”
“Yes, I know how you feel, I certainly do.” Mouse rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as he sometimes does to impress a client, especially an important client like this. Albert was here to talk about the girl: he knew that. But which one?
(to be continued)
He looked in on the proceedings with his 2 hats and his 2 perching birds, thinking: busy, good. That means the doctor, the practice is good. Here’s someone I can talk to and learn meaningful stuff from, this Mouse fellow. Never mind the failed Pooping Pigeons franchise, he follows. A bad businessman does not make for a bad something else.
He steps inside, jumps ahead of everyone else knowing they wouldn’t mind. He’s just that important.
The door was locked. The only way in, it appeared, was through this hole at the bottom. Luckily Albert brought his own Mouse costume, except his was a rat, small enough to get away with the deception and do the job. Mouse was just finishing up with another one, synchily enough. Rat named Map who use to be a member of a gang called Willard.
“Come in, big man,” he squeaked up to high-as-a-kite Albert. “If you can make it.”
“Oh I can,” he boomed down. Map Rat disappeared. Albert took his place.
(to be continued)
“We have a location on the girl. Repeat. We have a location, over.”
“Roger that, Mission. Honing in… now.”
—–
It was the first meeting of the local Umbrella Club chapter, and not all were invited, namely: men.
And *especially* Albert, who could only view the proceedings from afar, say 200 meters. That’s as close as his ankle bracelet would allow, which was probably a good thing. He just wanted to check up on her, he rationalized about the spying, make sure she’s not up to any trouble. Or if she was, he wanted to know. And, he also thinks, I suppose *this* counts. Just like the case with Franklin, pheh.
He never got around to taking off his hat, which could explain why he’s here.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0105, Nautilus, Yd Island^
Sunklands 