1st: Robert Matthew. Or Matthew Robert, whichever. Like Shelley and her horse before him, came down from Beatrice, via a rowboat in his case but, later, some say a duck to match his yellow. Or a yellow horse, whatever. Anyway, here he is, arriving from the north. Invited by Constantynople Prime Minister Baker Bloch himself to solve some obvious town issues. Too much human stuff going on; it’s becoming a weakness, maybe even part of a curse. Like Robert’s old Soap swampland he fortunately sold to a gullible man from Mark Twain, Florida.
“Town hall, please.”
“Right, then left through the tree, hehe, huhu, hooo.”
He watched him walk away, then: “Did — did I do well, Tom?”
Reply in head.
“A white aggie, eh? Best one yet!”
Sunklands 