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Are you real bad off?" Tina held her mother's shoulders."Yes, desperately." She looked at her daughter with perfect intensity."A-alright." Tina gulped. "What d-do we do?" There's a place on the other side of town. W-will you go with me?" She asked nervously."Yes, of course. Shouldn't I change first?" We don't have time." Her mother turned toward the door and went to unlock it. Tina hurried after her.They were in the car, heading away as fast as Mrs. Brady trusted the cops to allow. Printed speed signs were ignored. Tina, aware of her own unfulfilled need, studied her mother and prayed she would never feel that desperate. She hung on to her seat belt shoulder strap as the car swerved past slower vehicles. It took about a half hour to drive across town. It was about nine-thirty when they pulled up at a conservative looking dance bar. 'Smokey Joe's Cocktail Club' she read from the flickering neon sign. Her mother pulled to a stop with a jerk and cut the engine. She gave Tina one brief. I try rather hard not to believe in the gods, largely so that they’ll choose in return not to believe in me, and more or less leave me entirely alone. It doesn’t seem to work that way however. I appear to amuse them for some reason. That early afternoon as I was making my final preparations for our night of community improvement via the aid of a jolly good fire, I had the sudden notion that I ought to be offering my own prayers to the nearby shrine, located right at the south end of the Ormsbridge. Refusing to bullied or intimidated, I acted with my usual contrariness and willfully instead pilfered a ripe apple that had been placed into the offertory bowl. Now it was accepted for tramps of the roads without a coin in their purse to freely take such divinely blessed gifts, but my act was pure puerile rebellion, and punished accordingly. From the start, nothing seemed to go right, beginning with the problem that I soon received a report that Mumford’s wagon loaded with the small pony.
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