the empty room laughed.
maybe i made a mistake, sam jones mused mournfully.
remembrance flooded back.
all the awful images resurfaced in his brain.
it all began at funnyman ’s new year party.
doctor ninety-seven was there, having just completed his prison term.
some of the guests ignored him. others treated him as a conquering hero.
sam jones had still been young and innocent when the doctor’s trial had been such a cause celebre.
but now, of course, it had been swept under the rug of time with john wilkes booth and the pig lady and the highway 77 killers.
very soon, i can make my mistake, i mean my escape, sam thought.
but just then queen catherine appeared at his side in her violet dress.
are you having a good time, she purred.
of course, what other kind of time would i be having?
it is useless to try to taunt you, is it not, ma cheri?
some people here seem to be enjoying themselves.
some people have the happy facility of always enjoying themselves.
let us flee this place.
excuse me, but i have responsibilities to our host, the ambassador.
of course, what was i thinking - my mind must have gone blank.
are not all minds blank - waitig for fate to write on them?
you told me once that i was a strange man.
if you were not, you might be the ambassador.
are we not all ambassadors - if we are not kings and queens?
here is the vice consul now, with a tray of drinks.
ah, vice consul. do you bring good good tidings, along with these nicely frosted concoctions?
your majesty is in a particularly cordial mood this evening.
get along with you! the queen laughed.
but things may turn grim before the night is over.
but, in truth, the festivities had just begun.
when the vice consul was out of hearing, the queen put her slender hand on sam jones’s arm.
come, we must flee this place,
we have fled it too many times - i am tired of flight.
does the butterfly tire of flight? does the seagull? does the pterodactyl?
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