Tell me, do you feel lucky? Well? Do ya? Punk?
[It's been two days since Cuthbert opened his eyes from where he'd thought he'd been seated at the foot of Jericho Hill in Mid-World only to find himself . . . on a bench. Surrounded by towering buildings, cars he's never seen running in his lifetime, and people who he'd figured out pretty quickly would be no use in figuring out just where the hell he'd ended up in.
T'was the first night he'd noticed the sun setting in its proper westerly direction. Rising in the morning in it's proper easterly direction. Then, for the second night in a row, setting, once again, in the west; and rising in the east for the second morning in a row. Cuthbert observed this and drew from it the only conclusion he could: He really isn't in Mid-World.
Now, if'n you're familiar with the phrase "wild west cowboy," you'll have some idea of who's walking down this here sidewalk, keen eyes taking in everything he sees, muttering curses at some of the machinery he passes by, looking for another set of eyes that looks like they might have some brains behind it, do ya kennit, thankee sai.]
T'was the first night he'd noticed the sun setting in its proper westerly direction. Rising in the morning in it's proper easterly direction. Then, for the second night in a row, setting, once again, in the west; and rising in the east for the second morning in a row. Cuthbert observed this and drew from it the only conclusion he could: He really isn't in Mid-World.
Now, if'n you're familiar with the phrase "wild west cowboy," you'll have some idea of who's walking down this here sidewalk, keen eyes taking in everything he sees, muttering curses at some of the machinery he passes by, looking for another set of eyes that looks like they might have some brains behind it, do ya kennit, thankee sai.]