Today is Saturday, the 26th of January 2019.
Kylie is calling from Tennessee. Not from Memphis, Tennessee, but from Springfield. She is nervous. Last night in the light of a nine-three-quarters moon the llama has left the motel room and started strolling the streets. It has not returned yet. Kylie fears it might have turned into an English-speaking Werebus, one of those red London double-decker ones, searching for victims to take to the nearest square-dance contest. Kylie is reading the newspaper this morning. There is a story about a schoolbus full of catholic priests that ran over Springfield Cliff last night. The sad result and news is - they all survived. Now she is sitting in a restaurant near the town hall. Her mind is wandering off to that song she heard on the radio the other day while she is staring through the windowpane into the cold air of a late morning. She saw the ghost of Elvis on Union Avenue, followed him up to the gates of Graceland. Then she watched him walk right through. Springfield, not Memphis, she has to remind herself. The waitress pours another cup of coffee and asks her, 'Tell me are you a Christian child?' And she says, 'Ma'am, I am tonight'. Kylie is shivering. Goosebumps are giving her the chills. Not walking in Memphis, she tells herself. And maybe Bromford Bibble is that strange Werebus creature she has never heard or read about - not the animal. Outside the restaurant on Union Avenue a red double-decker bus overtakes a convertible car with a driver with large sun-glasses and long black hair and thick sideburns. Has anybody seen Sam Lowry?
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