H2 looked up as Legless emerged from the red dust like Australia’s Uluru through the early morning mist. She blinked into the sun and stopped.
“Oh! It’s a lap bag,” she said. “Silly me.”
“It’s a celebration of the spark plug,” said the ambitious statue worker.
“I see,” said H2, not really seeing at all.
The crowd stared.
“I thought a spark plug was small, and its smallness was its power,” said a market stall owner.
“It is metaphorical,” said the ambitious statue worker.
“What’s that when it’s at home?” yelled a voice from the back.
Woody, a would-be writer who knew a thing or two about metaphors, jumped onto Mex’s cocktail bar, preparing to explain and soothe. Not that anyone listened; once Woody appeared, they just wanted to look. He could have said Planet Hy Man was burning and n
