After a day of lonely wandering with nothing resembling sane sensibleness being found, I retired for the night in a scruffy little Bed & Breakfast hotel, only to be awakened at about three in the dark morning by the voice of the manager's wife screaming, "There's a bloody horse tied up outside!"
Ah. I had neglected to inform them of the presence of Apocalypse. This may be a problem on my intended travels, and the speeding black saloon car of yesterday has got me wondering, for I have a card of credit with me, being a noble Don of some pecuniary substance actually, and after explaining the presence of Apocalypse (not that the explanation was much welcomed) I then lay wondering if a little black saloon car might be a more sensible steed for my travels, rather than a big black horse that neighs angrily through the evening and deposits steaming piles of (noble) shit at regular intervals after munching his carrots, oats and hay, Hmm… I do believe I would similarly foul the streets most regularly on the same diet and with a physiognomy that made sitting on a porcelain pot impractical.
So here I am, lying alone in a strange bed, tippy typing on my trusty top of the lap computifier thing, and wondering who would give a good home to a mighty Apocalypse.
And I am also thinking of Seanso, good Seanso Planter, the rather rough but sound Germanic vegetable-growing fellow who has accompanied me on so many other quests. Might Seanso be persuaded to be of assistance too, perhaps tagging along behind my now planned little black saloon car, probably also called Apocalypse, on a rusty motorcycle (unnamed of course) instead of that damn dopey donkey of our previous adventures? Hmm… Possibilities… Perhaps… How long to ride to my assistance from German Land on a motorized cycle, I wonder?
But back to sleep now. The search for signs of sanity is proving a tiring quest already.