Thursday Feb 22, 2007
Early this morning, I called that place that you jokingly call a hotel. I didn't understand the name of the person who answered the phone, and I’m not even sure whether it was a man or a woman, but I’m leaning toward woman, so I’ll go with that.
She said, “Miss M,” which I assume is you, my dear, “Left with Manuel before sunup.” Then I think she said, “On Manuel’s ox cart, but that couldn't be right---could it?
By the way, that hotel sounds like a cross between the Calgary Stampede and the Democratic National Convention. I’m not complaining you understand. I’m just glad that you found a place to stay, what with the international import-export convention in town.
I once heard that more criminal organizations and subversive government activities operate under the cover, import-export business, than any other single disguise.
That woman at the hotel must have heard that too, or else she just has a hell of a sense of humor. She called the delegates to the convention “fucking terrorists.”
She also said the only way to the evil forest was by ox cart.
I said, “Evil forest? I thought it was the enchanted forest.”
Marissa, you’ll love this, she said, “Evil, enchanted, it’s the same thing. I have to go now, Senor, a group of terrorists are checking in.”
Then she hung up before I could say another word. That woman has quite a sense of humor.
Marissa, she is kidding, isn't she?”