Chapter 6: Romance at Ground Level.

"Ragnor" must have abandoned me at the airport, and I found myself being conveyed on the luggage turnstile, between a bag of golf clubs and a small box. The box was labeled "Mr. Fluffers" and sported airholes, and a rather putrid stench. I shook it but there was no sound. Mr. Fluffers, if still inside, was resting with the type of comfort one can only achieve on pure down bedding, or in a closed casket.

"You look like you're alone in the world too," I said to the box, only half-expecting an anthropomorphic response. "Let's be alone together," I chirped, suppressing my gag reflex and holding my thumbs over some of the airholes.

The urge welled up from within me to perform a Disney-esque musical number with my new friend in the box. So I lifted it on high, spun wildly, and sang a song of my own invention:

We're after the same rainbow's end
Waiting around the bend
My Huckleberry friend
Moon River and me...

Security was distracted performing a full-cavity search of an elderly woman with a full beard and a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher.

I then remembered that I was supposed to be reclaiming my crown. Yes, the crown! It's the crown, stupid! Sergei had it, and I had to find him. I approached the ticket counter with the cool air of sophistication afforded of exiled nobility carrying a box of dead dog. The woman at the counter was a female, as women are prone to be, and her feminine female sight reminded me that it had been at least two rohypnol-laced drinks since my loins had been satiated. "Excuse me, miss," I asked, "can I get a one-way ticket to your dampest port-of-call?"

The blonde, pert tart pretended not to know what I was talking about. "Excuse me," she stammered, "you want to go somewhere damp?" The vixen! She was playing hard-to-get! What a sly little minx she was! "You know what I'm talking about. Friendly skies? The mile-high club?" I flipped my hair seductively, pulling a neck muscle and wincing.

"Is something wrong," she asked, "Did something crawl into your box and die?"

"I beg your pardon! You haven't even seen it!"

"The box, ma'am, on the ground next to you. With the Mr. Fluffers sticker. With the ant trail leading in. The one with the smell that makes me want to trigger the chemical alarm."

Clearly we were starting off on the wrong foot.