the eastern edge of his sheep's run, where the large pond over by you is."
"It's a small lake," said Nin, "and it only touches on the edge of our area."
"Whatever. That's where he saw you. And he's old, so he's not going to graze his sheep over an endless expanse."
"Okay."
"And everyone knows that shepherds graze the sheep between a water hole at one end and a salt lick at the other—"
"So all we have to do," interrupted Nin, "is find where the nearest salt lick is, and we can define the grazing grounds!"
"I think that's how that works."
"I hope you're right," said Nan.
"Oh, ye of little faith," said Nin. "Trust me. We'll find him."
Nan looked out the window at the parking lot. A salmon Stingray was at one end and a white Pathfinder at the other. The street signs identified the restaurant as located on Morton Street between Pickles and Lam. A blue Barracuda was cruising the lot. Abruptly, the driver switched the Barracuda into reverse and backed into a stall without ever looking behind. Unfortunately a refried-bean-colored Pinto was already in that stall and exploded when the Barracuda slammed into its infamous and exposed rearmounted gas tank. Refried-bean-colored crap blew all over the place. Someone with overalls and firefighter boots showed up with a shovel to clean up the mess.
"Nan!" Nan became conscious of the fact that Nin had been saying 'Nan!' for a few minutes. Seconds?
"What?" snapped Nan, not wanting to lose the reverie.
"Nothing. The waiter wants to know if you want another beer. Duh."
Nan looked up. Sure enough, the waiter was standing there expectantly.
"Bring me a Colt 45," snarled Nan, remembering a movie title: They Shoot Horses, Don't They? They Shoot Horses, Don't They? ounce can arrived at the table, Nan asked to borrow the waiter's pen.
Nan turned the beer upside down and slammed the pen tip through the bottom of the can, puncturing a neat round hole in it. Nan began sucking the beer out of the hole while turning the can rightside up and popping the top. The entire contents of the 24-ounce beer flew down Nan's gullet so fast that a bunch of it came out through Nan's nose. Nan's eyes watered, but, shaking it off, Nan snorted and said, "Now, what were you saying, Nin?"
"Sam was saying that the old shepherd's a crook," said Nin, which was enough for Nan, whose instant guffaw brought all the beer back up over the table.
Nin got up and got some bar rags and threw them at Nan. "Here, pig. Clean up your mess." And Nin and Sam changed tables.
The Emperor came on the television and began to speak:
"I'd like to respond to the recent outbursts that occurred at my appearance at the Stampeded Antelope resort. Those responsible will be brought to justice and, I swear, will not be misapprehended. Those who resort thus are declared enemies of the state, and their deeds will not go unattended. They will be tried, true, and convicted upon sentencing to corporal punishment of the worst kind when we find them. Let this be a lesson to those who would defrock their Emperor! Thus have I spaken!"
"Holy crap. Did he just declare tourist resorts illegal?" asked Sam. Nan wiped up the beer at the next table.
"I don't know what the hell he said," replied Nin, shrugging. "Does he even know?"
"No—he just tried to read those cue cards."
"Well, I hope he gives his son some acting lessons. We can't have an Emperor acting like this."
"No," chuckled Sam. "We can't. Maybe, after we find the shepherd, we could do something to help." He winked at Nin.
"Yeah. Maybe."
While wiping the next table, Nin noticed a fellow at the table on the other side of Nin and Sam paying undue attention to the conversation. "Nin. Sam. Shh! Taximeter cabriolets have auditory capabilities," Nan said.
Sam and Nin turned and looked at the man, who immediately hid behind a menu.
"All I know," said Sam, "is that anyone eavesdropping will be sorry."
"That's for sure," rejoindered Nin. The man buried himself even deeper in the menu. "An eavesdropper is like a peeping
"It's a small lake," said Nin, "and it only touches on the edge of our area."
"Whatever. That's where he saw you. And he's old, so he's not going to graze his sheep over an endless expanse."
"Okay."
"And everyone knows that shepherds graze the sheep between a water hole at one end and a salt lick at the other—"
"So all we have to do," interrupted Nin, "is find where the nearest salt lick is, and we can define the grazing grounds!"
"I think that's how that works."
"I hope you're right," said Nan.
"Oh, ye of little faith," said Nin. "Trust me. We'll find him."
Nan looked out the window at the parking lot. A salmon Stingray was at one end and a white Pathfinder at the other. The street signs identified the restaurant as located on Morton Street between Pickles and Lam. A blue Barracuda was cruising the lot. Abruptly, the driver switched the Barracuda into reverse and backed into a stall without ever looking behind. Unfortunately a refried-bean-colored Pinto was already in that stall and exploded when the Barracuda slammed into its infamous and exposed rearmounted gas tank. Refried-bean-colored crap blew all over the place. Someone with overalls and firefighter boots showed up with a shovel to clean up the mess.
"Nan!" Nan became conscious of the fact that Nin had been saying 'Nan!' for a few minutes. Seconds?
"What?" snapped Nan, not wanting to lose the reverie.
"Nothing. The waiter wants to know if you want another beer. Duh."
Nan looked up. Sure enough, the waiter was standing there expectantly.
"Bring me a Colt 45," snarled Nan, remembering a movie title: They Shoot Horses, Don't They? They Shoot Horses, Don't They? ounce can arrived at the table, Nan asked to borrow the waiter's pen.
Nan turned the beer upside down and slammed the pen tip through the bottom of the can, puncturing a neat round hole in it. Nan began sucking the beer out of the hole while turning the can rightside up and popping the top. The entire contents of the 24-ounce beer flew down Nan's gullet so fast that a bunch of it came out through Nan's nose. Nan's eyes watered, but, shaking it off, Nan snorted and said, "Now, what were you saying, Nin?"
"Sam was saying that the old shepherd's a crook," said Nin, which was enough for Nan, whose instant guffaw brought all the beer back up over the table.
Nin got up and got some bar rags and threw them at Nan. "Here, pig. Clean up your mess." And Nin and Sam changed tables.
The Emperor came on the television and began to speak:
"I'd like to respond to the recent outbursts that occurred at my appearance at the Stampeded Antelope resort. Those responsible will be brought to justice and, I swear, will not be misapprehended. Those who resort thus are declared enemies of the state, and their deeds will not go unattended. They will be tried, true, and convicted upon sentencing to corporal punishment of the worst kind when we find them. Let this be a lesson to those who would defrock their Emperor! Thus have I spaken!"
"Holy crap. Did he just declare tourist resorts illegal?" asked Sam. Nan wiped up the beer at the next table.
"I don't know what the hell he said," replied Nin, shrugging. "Does he even know?"
"No—he just tried to read those cue cards."
"Well, I hope he gives his son some acting lessons. We can't have an Emperor acting like this."
"No," chuckled Sam. "We can't. Maybe, after we find the shepherd, we could do something to help." He winked at Nin.
"Yeah. Maybe."
While wiping the next table, Nin noticed a fellow at the table on the other side of Nin and Sam paying undue attention to the conversation. "Nin. Sam. Shh! Taximeter cabriolets have auditory capabilities," Nan said.
Sam and Nin turned and looked at the man, who immediately hid behind a menu.
"All I know," said Sam, "is that anyone eavesdropping will be sorry."
"That's for sure," rejoindered Nin. The man buried himself even deeper in the menu. "An eavesdropper is like a peeping
Similar Books
