Apocalypse by Nancy Springer Page B

Gerald Wozny thought of yet another possible pet ordinance.
    â€œWhat I mean,” he said, “we ought to forbid dogs and cats from defecating on anybody’s property but their own. Their owner’s, I mean.”
    â€œWhat about urinating?” one of the women, the one not taking notes, wanted to know.
    â€œDefecating leaves a pile. Urinating don’t matter.”
    â€œIf it’s on shrubs it does,” challenged the woman. “Kills the shrubs.”
    â€œMy neighbor’s dog used to come and piss on my eggplants,” complained the only thin man in the gathering. “Would you like to eat eggplants had a dog pee on them?”
    â€œAll right, then, defecating and urinating both. Producing bodily wastes. The dog or cat is only allowed to do it on their own—their owner’s property. What do you say?”
    The council was saved from discussion of the impact, constitutionality and enforceability of this proposal by a knock on the door. A tall, husky woman no one recognized came into the room, followed by a smaller young woman everyone knew by sight: the breedy oddball who rode her horse to the post office.
    â€œShirley Danyo here.” The first one loudly announced the reason for her visit. “Me’n my friends want youse guys to know about some plenty strange things been going on.”
    Though Elspeth had come with Shirley, she did none of the talking. She stood by, quietly and contentedly conscious of her exotic beauty, as Shirley explained, in Shirley’s own inimitably voluminous fashion, about her hex sign, the cicadas out of season, the naked fetch in the woods, the baby-faced bugs.
    Without surprise Elspeth observed the council members glancing at each other, then growing too uncomfortable to glance at each other. They had, of course, already heard about the mysterious far-too-beautiful woman on the white horse. She had appeared again, on foot, at dusk, to speak to some ignorant people in Hoadley park. Tacitly the council had agreed to ignore her presence in favor of the more pressing problem of dog excrement. The national government could have learned from Hoadley natives; the latter had used censorship for generations. Entire scenes of Hoadley history had been erased from the books and had therefore never happened. Council discussions often went unnoted, to be denied if necessary. The woman on the white horse, undiscussed, therefore did not exist.
    Instinctively, then, the members of the council did not want to hear any of what this fool Danyo was saying. They rooted their hind ends deeper into their chairs, stared down at their hands and composed elaborate arrangements with their fingers. The president poked discreetly at nose and ears with his pinkie, finding nothing to distract him from his ordeal. Danyo had to be a jackass, a screwball at best, and at worst downright dangerous to say such things.
    Knowing that Shirley had never been afraid of being considered a nuthead, Elspeth allowed herself to feel darkly amused.
    â€œWhat I mean,” Shirley concluded earnestly, “it looks like the end of the world, unnatural things happening.”
    â€œWe were discussing business before you came in,” hinted the council president.
    â€œI won’t take but a minute longer. What I wanted to say, what if it ain’t God? What if it’s a witch? If that’s what it is, youse guys ought to be able to stop it.”
    A few of the council members actually blushed, as if Shirley had ripped open her work shirt and exposed her breasts. All except the woman taking notes looked profoundly discomfited. The latter (Zephyr Zook by name), as secretary, found Shirley somewhat more bearable and less offensive to her sense of parliamentary procedure than President Wozny.
    â€œAhhh—we will refer your concerns to the appropriate departments,” said that gentleman, and he got up and laid a hand on Shirley’s elbow, as if he could steer her out of