Over a plain dinner we discussed Angela's forthcoming commission for Frau Meyer. By tacit agreement, we did not discuss the death of Mickey the Mouth ...r any other of the day's events. It was still all there, though, a spectre at the feast. I think we were all too worn down by the experience of living inside an enigma to face it yet again. Angela decided that she would honour her intention stated when we first met. She would 'do' Trotsky. A completely naturalistic piece, she promised. No. Steve looked at the brass covered ashtray in his hand. Funny, he didn't remember winning it at any of the concession booths. In fact, he didn't remember much of anything since the cute redhead, his ninth attempt, had told him to go into Myrtle the Mystic's tent to "Get a future!" *Wow* he thought; *I must have really tied one on at the beer tent after that!* Without thinking, he began to rub the ashtray on the leg of his jeans. Smoke exploded from the ashtray, knocking him over onto his side on. More

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