The question, of course, was: what the hell happened to all the petty
cash? There should have been at least fifty bucks and some change in
that jar, but when Pythia turned it over and shook it a couple of times,
the only things to fall onto the counter were a bus token from the Mt.
Olympus transit system, a couple of pomegranate seeds, and the severed
head of a Barbie doll.
Something was very very wrong. Pythia knew of only one
pomegranate-eating, bus-riding pervert with a Barbie doll fixation, and
he didn't belong here. Zadoc.
Pythia shuddered. She knew what could happen if the mythos' crossed.
Like "The Fly", only much much much worse, as if Jeff Goldblum were a
Neanderthal with a spiky club and yelping "Auntie Ora! Help me!" Cassie
mixed with Lisa, Sybil with the body of Thag.... she had to stop it, but
There was only one place to turn. Pythia picked up a pen.
"Oracle most wise..."