At a glance the Face of Everyman knew that his time was up. The Avenging Angel was fluttering down to claim his mortal soul. “Mother of Mercy. Can this be the end of the Venerable Sage?” Moments later he could breathe a sigh of relief; he was safely in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. The remainder of the day was anticlimatic.
Erstwhile longed to be back in the circus. Foraging for food was often laborious even at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. The meats of the sunflower seed seemed a poor reward for soaking before cracking. Back in the circus he had been painted up as a Mynah bird and mimicked peoples speech and was rewarded with treats plus three squares a day. the Face of Everyman offered Erstwhile a contract but couldn’t meet the generous benefits that the circus provided.
Once again The Trixster tried to evade detection by the hi-tech security system protecting the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. The klaxons howled alerting even the dosing the Face of Everyman of this dawn intrusion. The venerable sage tried to evaluate where on the food chain did a Coyote place song birds and roving house cats.
Rocky had been up all night prepping for his appearance on Jeopardy, the long running TV game show. He was almost too tired to sleep. Names, dates and formulas filled his head. the Face of Everyman had agreed to tutor this brilliant scallywag on his promise to never again spin the venerable sage like a child’s top. Rocky’s episode will be recorded on this very spot in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa and released soon as a Summer Series on a yet unnamed streaming channel. Subtitles in Esperanto will be offered.
The Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa held morning swimming lessons for pre-schoolers. Even before his first cup of coffee the Face of Everyman was forced to endure the crying, splashing, yelling and near cacophony of the fledglings. Over four billion years ago the venerable sage had sworn not to marry and have offspring. He was frequently reminded of his solemn oath.
Benchley couldn’t believe his eyes. This must be the lost Aztec city of corn that he had heard so much about. Who would leave such bounty laying about. And sunflower seeds just for the cracking. the Face of Everyman felt compelled to speak up and clarify a few points. First, this place was known as the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. Secondly, the food was bait from the kindly ol’ pensioner meant to to attract song birds into camera range. Thirdly, Benchley was welcome to return and pose for a portrait any time he chose. Glossy prints could be ordered online.
The proceedings were taking unusually long. the Face of Everyman’s contract for service and management with the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa was up for renewal. Already the usual suspects were starting to spread ugly rumors. Surely his distinguished career wouldn’t suddenly end with just the Golden Handshake.
Clan Leader of Crow Local #313 paid a courtesy call on the Face of Everyman. He suggested that Everyman provide better food to those clan members who nested in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa and surrounding area. Before leaving, Clan Leader reiterated that this was but a suggestion not muscle.
There wasn’t much fight left in “The Kid” yet he had found his way home to the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. Even that much seemed a miracle. He had lost bits of himself in every encounter. the Face of Everyman would supervise his physical therapy on the long road to full recovery. Modern 3D printers would fabricate the body parts he needed to be made whole.
Mullard knew that he owed back child support but he never thought that Mildred would have the Sheriff of Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa send a drone to serve him papers. the Face of Everyman averted his gaze; pretending not to see this new advancement in law enforcement.
torkelsbirds 