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Every once in a while the life of a ghost- writer-plagiarist can turn hectic. Not everyone believes in what we refer to as Public Domain and certain people want to do very nasty things to us, the chief of which is to get us to fork over a big chunk of cash. We know when one of these raids is coming because we get a strong foreboding wave transmitted from X. It is then that we resort to our escape from behind the Rock of Plaiges, down an ancient spiral stairway to a labyrinth of tunnels and out into the village streets below, past No Great Feet Delivery Division and out into the safety of Cereal Valley:
We left out the leg of the journey through the sewers...W.B. found that worst than getting pummeled with a baseball bat.
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