BertiWise, coming into the dining room, noted how engrossed Mary and Lucilla were with tying the tiny blue plaid bows on the 10,000 toothpicks for the canapés. Her eyes wandered around the room, past the trays of marshmallows formed cleverly into the semblance of sleeping koalas, past the steaming pot of carrot/cauliflower/prune stew, to where the large bowl of mashed potatoes rested next to the peanutbutter flambé. She looked to the right. She looked to the left. She really shouldn't, she knew.....but...well, she had been deprived of her one hope in recent epis, had she not?

Stealthily, she grasped the large serving spoon, splopping a huge mound atop the birthday cake, spreading it out and down, completely covering the layer of wax. She considered forming, then, a replica of the lava plug in the center of the top layer, but that had already been done. A more original thinker than that, she proceeded lovingly to shape a perfectly exact copy of Bud's rump, having seen it so closely and for so long whilst he dangled through the floorboards of the bus. A single unmelted candle lay on the tablecloth nearby. She picked it up, holding the last spoonful of potatoes in one hand, the candle in the other as she considered....carefully....where best to place it.

So deeply in thought was she, that the noisy entrance of Ando, Arthur, and Hando surprised her. Too quickly she whirled, the large mass of buttery mashed potatoes flying out of her spoon, splattering across the thigh portions of the formerly TWP's. Ando halted, her shock too deep to find expression.

Arthur grinned, brazen and foolish. "At least it sorta covers the black soot," he said. Perhaps he might have added more, but the large section of bran loaf suddenly stuffed in his mouth prevented it.

Hando glared in that way the Melbourner had so perfected. It was one thing for him to sully the perfectitude of his denim himself. It was quite another for it to come from the hands of lesser mortals. His gleaming head turned slowly from Arthur to BertiWise. If only he had been standing in one of BugDogPugMom's baskets, Berti would have sworn she saw cobra hoods flaring out from his clenching jaw as his head moved slightly from side to side. She backed across the room as he stalked toward her, his eyes glittering like emerald ice.

Given the circumstances, how was she to have been expected to remember the exact position of the enormous punch bowl? Thank goodness it was only half full, the other half having earlier soaked into Jack's wool coat, or else her backing into its wide lip and causing the thing to tip, spilling its brilliantly pinkish contents onto the hardwood floor, not only would the entire back of Hando's TWP's have been dyed when he slipped and fell, but the front most likely would have as well.

Zack was really getting worried now. For the last hour all Susan had done was stretch out on the lounge chair where the sunlight fell full and warm on the patio, spreading her gown to absorb its rays, occasionally dipping her hand into his glass of water and sprinkling drops upon her skirt. A small smile remained constantly on her lips and to his suspicious eyes she looked almost gestatorial. "Susan," he asked softly, a slight hurt showing in his tone, "what are you doing?"

"Hmmmmmm?" she replied absently, her mind releasing thoughts of blue poppies as it moved onward to...other things.

Crossing the patio rather hurriedly, Cort asked Zack, "Have you seen Sue?"

"Not for a while," the agent replied, "but earlier she was in the freshly-plowed pea patch."

"Thanks!" Cort called back over his shoulder as he half ran in that direction. His heart thumped in his chest, not from exertion but more from anticipation as he passed the shearing barn and saw the sometimes-Vile-one sitting cross-legged in the middle of the unplanted pea patch. How lovely she looked, especially as she had obviously been rolling about somewhat in the fluffed and dry soil. From head to toe she was coated in the most marvelous layer of clinging dust.

Hearing the jangle of his spurs, she smiled, the dust forming attractive ridges near her eyes. He stopped directly in front of her and she looked slowly up the length of him, noting the absence not only of his badge but also of any dust upon his lips. The badge was unimportant, it was the lips that needed immediate attention.

Maximus kept his eyes closed for a long time. How good it was at last just to rest his head, his heart, his being atop hers.

He remained there, the last embers of the painful fire within him dying out just as the flames about them in the brush were flickering lower and lower. Peace settled over him like a canopy and he slept briefly. When he awoke, his awareness centered on the way his chest rose and fell in unison with her back as they breathed almost as one being. He tightened his arms around her and she sighed contentedly. Finally, reluctantly, he lifted his head then looked down at her hair spreading across his lap. His hands played with it for a while, wrapping long curling strands of it around and around his fingers, lifting it to his lips. He held it there, pressed closely to his mouth, his head bent, and let his lids shut once again.

The past days seemed either a deep blackness or else filled with vague dreams of....of....Sid. Sid as his younger brother in the Sheban village....Sid as the cardinal in the shearing barn. His jaw tightened and he released her hair. Joimus raised her head, her eyes mere inches from his. "What is it?" she asked, sensing his tenseness.

He inhaled deeply, the word, "Sid," coming softly at the end of his long exhale. "He must be...tended to," he added.

Joimus sat back on her heels, one corner of her mouth curving in a slight smile. "He will be," she said enigmatically. "It's been...arranged."

At that very moment, as Lucilla daintily sidestepped Hando's form sliding pinkly across the dining room floorboards, she remembered the computer chip she had found in the cracked bus vinyl. Her hand reached into her pocket and she pulled the tiny object out, studying it as it rested upon her palm. Without knowing why, she felt she had become the possessor of an important plot device.

Hando rose to his feet, crushed lemon slices clinging to his nether regions. Ando eyed them, wondering if she dared reach out and attempt to remove any of the circles of citrus. It was only the sound of his switchblade flipping open that stayed her trembling hand.

"Oh, Hando!" Mary exclaimed brightly, "how nice of you to offer to cut my cake!" She turned to Berti, "But we must replace at least the one candle." Berti looked down at the candle in her hand, then she looked at the replica of Bud's rump formed in creamy mashed potatoes. Wouldn't you know the cop would walk in the door right at that second!

With the practiced eye of a detective, he took in the entire room, his gaze settling on the familiar, rounded form atop Mary's cake. His seagreen eyes narrowed as he watched her move the candle toward the potatoes. His nostrils tensed, his jaw worked, and the fingers of his hands tightened dangerously on the back of one of Mary's Louis XVI dining room chairs. Berti gulped. Some decisions were just harder than others.

"Hello! Hello!" Sid boomed, opening the French doors as befit a cardinal named RichieSid, and striding in from the patio.

As every eye turned toward his arrival, Berti dropped the candle, quickly kicking it under the drape of the tablecloth. "Have I missed it...have I missed the dessert?" Sid asked.

Lucilla thought of saying, "You have missed the entire dinner," but it was bordering a bit too closely on Maxi-speak, so she held her tongue.

"No, Excellency, " Mary said, bowing her head slightly, "Berti was just about to insert the candle." Her eyes moved to Berti's now candleless hand. "Berti, where is the candle?"

"Candle?" Berti murmured, looking puzzled. "What candle?"

Bud stared at Berti, easily recognizing the guilty look of a candleconcealer. Unable to squelch his deep fondness for her, he permitted a smile to curve his lips. Berti sighed in relief. The world would never know the exact location she had decided to place the candle. And that was a good thing.

Sid, not knowing of Maximus' restoration, had decided to dress the part and stood before them, decked head to toe in bright cardinal red. Hearing Lucilla mutter something under her breath, he leaned towards her, "You had some comment?" he asked.

"I didn't know vultures had such scarlet plumage," she repeated, more loudly.

"Ah," he said, "I had forgotten your own deep... attachment...to Roman Generals."

As though they had a mind of their own, her fingers slid into her pocket, caressing the chip. "It is a thing," she continued, narrowing her eyes, "best not forgotten."

"Indeed?" he replied mockingly, turning his back on her and taking Mary's hand. "Happy Birthday," he greeted the matriarch of DroogHeeda. "I trust your party is going well?"

Mary looked around the room at the lemoned Hando standing in the wash of pink punch with his switchblade still poised menacingly, at the back of her Louis XVI chair dangling loosely beside the cop, at Arthur gagging on the bran loaf, at the almost totally undone Ando. She recalled the thick layer of candle wax coating her cake beneath the mashed potatoes. "Yes," she replied, "the party is going as well as one can expect in an epi."

"Mine was worse," Lucilla consoled her, remembering how her entire hacienda had melted.

"Truly," Mary replied, "and we've not yet been invaded by armed penguins." (note: this actually, um, happened at Lucilla's party...alas.)

Russell and Phyllis arrived, his arm curved possessively around her shoulders. Sid frowned at the sight of the Aussie's bare torso. "Have you no sense of dress code?" he said scornfully as he fingered his own embroidered cuff.

Phyllis had been carrying the remnants of Big Blue. "Here," she said, handing the scrap to Russell, "your shirt."

He smiled hugely. Never had there been a garment so comfortable....so airy. Not bothered in the least by the fact that it was now in two pieces and scorched to the point it should more properly be called Big Black, he put the half piece of the collar around his neck and slipped the section of one cuff over his wrist. "There!" he said in satisfaction. "All dressed!"

"Is that IT?" questioned Sid. "Is that all there is?"

Russell narrowed his seagreen eyes, leaning threateningly forward. "You got a problem with it, redbird?" Sid shuddered in disgust, removing his magnificent person from proximity to the uncouth actor.

Lucilla followed the cardinal about the dining room, unable to take her eyes off the small slot at the nape of his neck. Funny how she'd never noticed that before, but then, such a slot had not been needed in previous epis, had it? How curious, too, that it was the exact size of the small computer chip so conveniently in her pocket. As she recalled the serendipitousness of Maximus' seed having led her to its place of concealment on the bus, she also now remembered it was the very seat where Joimus had sat. Was there some connection? She would think about that tomorrow. Right now her focus was centered on Sid's slot. If only she were not quite so blasted short! She needed to test her reach. Creeping up behind him, she stretched her right hand up full length, seeing how close it came to the slot.

Sid whirled, red garments swishing. "WHAT are you doing?" he asked loudly.

"Ummm....." Lucilla ummed, "I was...I was....trying to....to...." Alas, Sid slipped on a large piece of regurgitated bran loaf, almost losing his balance. Lucilla hopped quickly behind his half-crumpled form, sliding the computer chip into the slot until it snapped in place. Sid stiffened, his whole body going rigid. A loud whirring sound came out of his nose, accompanied by a series of internal clicks and hums. He wobbled back and forth, forth and back, then did a set of irregular hops.

Lucilla took several steps back, waiting to see what relevance the four- lettered word she'd seen imprinted on the chip would have. Before the startled eyes of the assemblage, the finely-textured red garments began to turn into a roughly-woven brown robe. His handsome sash became a section of rope. What was happening to the Chipman? His countenance was softening, the proud lines of his jaw becoming relaxed...even pleasant. His posture lost its arrogance, his fine footwear disappeared entirely, leaving his feet bare. Finally the whirring and clicking stopped.

Sid looked around the room....and smiled. "Hello, " he said, as though he had just arrived. "Could someone direct me to the kangaroos?"

"Kangaroos?" repeated Bud. "What do you want with the kangaroos?"

"I am here to bless them before they undertake their long swim to New Zealand."

At last Lucilla understood why the word 'Monk' had been on the chip. It was a Monk chip, of course, and had turned ChipMan into....ChipMonk!

Maximus entered. "Brother," he said, remembering Sheba.

Brother Sid turned, smiling affectionately at the General. "Do you know where the kangaroos are?" he asked, seagreen eyes full of gentleness.

"I do," Maximus replied, pointing out the doorway to the wide sweep of open grazing land beyond the driveway. Maximus looked down at Joimus. "I thought I was the expert in revenge," he murmured softly.

The Pittsburgher smiled. "There are...sometimes...methods more effective than....swords." She looked up at the General. "Speaking of which," she continued, "here is your own....rose."

His strong fingers gripped its familiar hilt as he held it straight up before his face, his eyes traveling up and down its blade. His smile dampened a bit when he noted the encrustation towards its tip. "What is that?" he asked.

"Oh, just a bit of dried toad juice," Joimus replied. "I never got the chance to clean it. Here, allow me," she continued, taking the sword briefly back into her own hands. "I understand the fiber found in white denim is perfect for removing encrustations of toad juice from the blades of swords."

"Aieeeee!" came the cry from a formerly Welsh throat as Ando flung her body in front of the Melborne lad.

Joimus chuckled, "Just joking, Ando, just joking."

Brother Sid frowned slightly at the Pittsburgher. "Teasing is unkind," he said, taking the gladius and humbly wiping it clean on his brown robe.

Joimus looked at him, her blue eyes narrowing in deep thought. "This will never do," she mused. "Sid is our villain." Watching as Brother Sid crossed the road, reaching his hands out towards the gathering kangaroos, she realized too late her mistake. Too bad it was that with his back toward the mansion and his wide hood up, she could not see the satisfied smirk on his handsome face.