Dear Auntie Ora,

It's not my fault. I told my brother if he didn't stop goofing around with him, something was gonna happen, but he's a fartbrain and didn't listen, and now Peter Gabriel's broken. We gotta do something before my parents get home. My brother says if we put Elton John in a white suit and slick his hair back they won't notice the difference, but I don't know. What should we do?

Pythia DiStefano looked after the guy as he slammed the door and dodged two or three few toothy furballs on his way out. "So much for joy of life." She turned to Sibyl. "Were you serious about the superglue for Peter Gabriel?"

"Of course not. You don't glue real people together, do you? This one's is just a collector's item. You should have seen the -rest- of the junk in that household. The hat collection alone would have made even Jackie Kennedy green with envy. Such an utter waste of money, and so tasteless, too. I'm sure glad *I* don't have to clean house in all that clutter."

"What? What are you guys talking about? Hats? Did you bring any? I need one for my red winter outfit, the cashmere one, I'm sure I've told you about it. Come to think of it I need a handbag, too. And nail polish, of course. Why are you looking at me like that? Hey, what's -that-? Gross!!" Cassie McBlonde, a bit green now, continued, "A corpse! Call the police!! Weird, I didn't know that people were hollow inside! And what are all those metal thingies? Do I have those too?" She looked dubiously down herself: "Funny, everytime I cut myself it's just red inside. Not dirty white, like this guy."

Sibyl gave Cass a tired look. "This is a wax replica. I expect we can get him all fixed up soon enough. Now, where'd you put the superglue? Oh, there you are. Thanks."

<An hour went by, with a lot of concentrated puzzling. Sound effects included a few muttered "Don't drop that, it's fragi... graaarrgh!" or "Right, hand me the left arm now.", and a few comments like "Oooh, gorgeous outfit. It suits him so well!" and "Wow, what a cool hat. Just what I need for Saturday night." from Cassie, who helped by not participating in the puzzling together ... >

Then Pythia looked up and swore. "Damn. Sibyl, hey, Sibyl! Stop doing the toes for a moment and look at this. I didn't even know superglue could *do* that to wax." (mumbled) "Must be something in the dye they used. I wonder if Cass saved any of those aromatherapy candles..." (shouted) "Cassie, hey, do you still have those aromatherapy candles? I think we could use them. ... Wow, that many? Right, thanks."

<Another hour or two of work, with a few "Damn! Be -careful- with that, it's hot!" from Pythia, and some "Hold this in place now, dear" from Sibyl>

Finally Sibyl sits back to surveys their work. "Right, Pythia. Good idea to scent up his armpits and feet. But, really, did you *have* to use all the blue wax in *that* particular spot?"

"Sure. Think about it, Sibyl. This guy hasn't been laid for, well, ages. His balls simply _have_ to be blue."