I wanted to know. I needed to know. Was he doing it now?, I wondered.As a matter of fact, no, he wasn't, as I found out from the phone call, that came...just before I started my engine. Instead, apparently, he was standing at my door getting soaked in the freezing drizzle.Silly boy. Silly, silly boy, I kept thinking as I raced home.'What the hell are you doing here?' I attacked him, when I found him on my doorstep. I can't say, I like surprises. I'm too much of a control freak to like surprises.. His pants were little better, but by selectively tearing theirremains into strips, he fashioned a crude loincloth. He shoes, made ofbuckskin, were pitted with tiny holes but usable. He cursed his ruinedoutfit but dressed anyway and listened as warm breezes washed through thebranches around him. He heard the throaty grumble of his pony close by, butthe equestrian sounds were also of exertion and he came upon the b**stsurrounded by an astonishing looking bit of greenery; gigantic. More

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