Sent away for at least a month, Patricia went back to hoeing at the retreat where she was staying.
“Shoo Storkie. Trying to work.”
But then she saw a snake and was glad Storkie hung around. Gobbled it down quick he did, eager for more than just plant food ’round these here parts. Lots of plants for all the vegetarians like Patricia living at the Zen compound; little kosher meat for the rest like the carnivorous animals and birds.
She tries to calm herself after the event by meditating, with Waterbuffaloie looking on and sniffing the air for more possible snakes around, not to eat but just to avoid as well. He’s a herbivore like Patricia. They get along swell and sometimes even eat with each other in the cold winter months, huddling together for warmth. Rhesus the wacky monkey sometimes joins them. Sometimes Fred the rat. But never Gertrude, a snootier cow from one of the Massachusetts super-capes, perhaps Nantucket but also perhaps not. No eating with the common types for her.
Meditation complete and a sense of calmness returned, she watches Storkie roam the garden looking for additional meat. He’d had a taste and he wanted more. One little ribbon snake — not filling enough.
Ribbons, hmm. I think I know how to work Patricia back into the main story. Change of a dress coupled with a change of address. Get her off the farm and back in the city working for The Mann.
—-
“All I can offer you currently is a 2 week temporary slot,” he said, thinking about the weeds that needed hoeing and the grass that needed mowing around his stately manor. Jill the regular gardener had come down with Pill. And lawn care partner Jack fell off the John Deere while mowing that steep hill. If she could do the work of both he’d keep her on, paying her half of what he did Jack plus Jill. The Mann only sees the bottom line, the profit margin. Typical.
“Are there snakes?” she asked.
“Bunches.”
“Sold?” And she extended her hand for a snake to seal the deal which she then fed to Storkie who had come with her from the country. Many more out on the grounds, he knew. Many many more.
“Just give him a fortnight to clean up the place and I’ll return,” came Patricia’s last term, which The Mann, not well versed in Shakespeare and other classics, accepted thinking that fortnight meant one night. Two weeks later she returned but Jack and Jill were back on the job by then and she and Storkie had to retreat again to the compound. “Sorry Storkie,” she said, but Storkie was so full of food he was at a loss for words. Back at the farm he remained stuffed for a while and soon the garden there was also overrun with serpents. If only there was a saint who could take care of this problem for her. She checked the calendar. March 16. One night, she said to herself. One night. 2 weeks later, being a career Shakespearian actor use to adjusting such mistakes, he showed up but Patricia had returned to the city by then.
“Open up in there!” she blared at the Secret Door Bookshelf, our circle of text complete. “Ooh. Penn. Uuupp!”
—–
She sat down. She changed into who she really was, dumping the last of the green and Patricia along with it. The shiny locomotive with the golden front still poked out the side of the Xmas Winter tree on the screen before her. Her index finger wavered over the DELETE key. If the train went, then so did the whole tree. Tree minus train = 1/2 of what it was.
“Do it,” said Tania now behind her on the small sofa. “Finish me off. Do. It.”
PRESS. She was alone in the golden or yellow Room in the center of the manor or villa. Wayne’s villa. And she a legit Waynesvillian now. She recalled Batcorn.
Sunklands 