e9c12ac8d703d9a536f23183edf8b22c

Buster turned to me.“See? This is what’s been happening, Max. People come in, get a whiff of Fido’s new project, and run out as quick as their legs can carry them.”

“I see,” I said, and I did. This was indeed a lot more serious than I’d thought at first.

“If this keeps up I will be out on the street,” said our friend. “And Fido will be out on the street alongside me. We’ll be living in a cardboard box in an alley and digging through dumpsters.”

Fido, who’d sagged down on his chair again with a deep sigh, held up his scissors for a moment, then murmured, “Life is tough right now, sweetheart, but we’re not giving up—oh, no. People have a right to know the truth.”

“And now he’s talking to his scissors,” said Buster, shaking his head in dismay.

Clearly he was right: this called for an intervention. But what could we do? How could we drive this crazy idea from that poor man’s head? Frankly I didn’t have a clue. Like I said before, I’m not a shrink, so I don’t know how to remedy what must surely be some kind of fatal flaw in the mental makeup of the human species. But I couldn’t allow our friend to be kicked out of his own home because his human had gone cuckoo, so I placed a paw on Buster’s shoulder and said solemnly, “We’ll fix this, buddy. I promise.”

“Why, thanks, Max,” said Buster, perking up considerably. “I feel better already.”

“So we’re going on a trip around the world?” asked Dooley.

“No, Dooley,” I said. “We’re definitely not going on a trip around the world.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“But what?”

Well now that, of course, was the big question.

5

Vesta Muffin was seated in the outside dining area of the Star hotel, her usual hangout of a morning, taking in the human traffic on Main Street, as was her habit. Her eagle-eyed glances would have discomforted the objects of her inspection, if they’d known they were under observation. In spite of her advanced age, there was nothing wrong with Vesta’s eyesight, or her mind, which was as sharp as it had ever been—almost as sharp as her tongue, some of her detractors would have said.

Next to her, her friend Scarlett Canyon sat enjoying her iced caramel macchiato with extra foam and chocolate sprinkles on top. She licked her lips and said,“Did you hear about Fido?”

“Is he dead?” asked Vesta, perhaps with a touch too much eagerness in her voice.

Lately exactly nothing had happened in her world, and frankly she was bored, and eager for anything to happen, even the death of a fine hairdresser like Fido.

“He’s joined a cult,” said Scarlett, looking as pleased as the cat that got the cream that there was gossip she was aware of that her friend wasn’t.

“A cult? What cult?”

“Here. He gave me this when I went in to have my roots done last night.” She placed a flyer on the table and Vesta gratefully took it and gave it a quick perusal.

“Flat Earth Society? What in God’s name is the Flat Earth Society?”

“Exactly what it says: they believe that the earth is flat and anyone who says different is an idiot.”

“Huh,” said Vesta, a small smile playing about her lips. “And Fido believes this crap?”

“He sure does. He talked me through the whole thing last night. I would have left, but he’d already applied the dye.” She licked her lips again, only this time not for the purpose of sampling an extra helping of cream but reliving the scene. “He told me that I wouldn’t believe the number of people who fall off the face of the earth each year, and it’s all being hushed up by the government.”

“Is that a fact?”

“He says that most deaths are actually attributed to people falling off the earth, and if only they’d tell people to watch out, a lot of casualties could be avoided. Birds, too.”

“Birds?” asked Vesta, looking up from the flyer to take in her friend. Scarlett was dressed in a revealing red top of some kind of stretchy material, which hugged her impressive assets, and a miniskirt which accentuated her long legs. She might be Vesta’s age, but she looked one or two decades younger. That bright red hair had a lot to do with it, of course. And Botox—plenty of Botox.

“Yeah, he says that a lot of birds go missing each year, because they fly past the point of no return, and then they can’t find their way back.”

“Poor birds.”

“So of course I asked him what’s beyond the earth, you know, if it makes birds get lost, and he says that the government knows, but they’re refusing to tell us. Afraid to cause a panic.” She nodded seriously as she took another sip from her delicious drink, then picked up one of the miniature cakes the Star hotel likes to provide its loyal customers.

“So what’s so terrible that it might cause a panic?” asked Vesta, putting down the flyer and picking up her own drink, a nice big hot cocoa with plenty of cream on top and even a cherry this time, bless the server’s heart.

“Fido says it must be something really, really terrible. Like monsters or something. And he says that armed guards make sure the monsters don’t come and eat us all.”