Cornelius agreed we would have todispose of them: not simply to discard them, but to deplete their magicif that were possible.Figs are fruits, he sai...; fruits have seeds. Should we discard the figsin the nearest rubbish heap, more Golden Fig trees might grow. That wouldbe disastrous; the availability of the magic fruits would multiply.Instead, we would have to put them out of her reach, entrust them to thosewith whom she would never willingly consort. Cornelius would give them tothe Bacchae. I probably shouldn’t because sometimes I’d forget and do it when someone could hear.I fussed with breakfast, loved on the cats and then I called Hairy.“I need a ride, Hairy.” I begged. “I have to be in Cheyenne by 10 in the am Monday and Denver as soon as I can get there after Cheyenne.”“You know those voices that told you the lottery numbers?” I asked him.“They’re talking to me now.” I explained“You can have ‘em back for all of me,” I said. “They wouldn’t let me fly.”“WHAT?” That almost. More

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