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We staggered away from each other, smiles on our
bloodied faces from such a marvelous battle. Yet before we
could renew our enjoyment for the sport of Wolves, sounds
of chaos filled the air. In moments, dozens of White Wigs
flooded the chamber.
Laughably unbalanced, they proceeded to cartwheel and
roll and skip a thick circle around us. Hide and I glanced
at each other, each thinking the other responsible for the
intrusion. Suddenly, the horde of pale lunatics parted,
making way for a creature of markedly higher pedigree. He
was stately for a madman, even poetic. There was an almost
biblical quality to his presence—authority mixed with fear
and wonder, all of it balanced upon the sharpened edge of a
single ridiculous idea.
I was immediately glad of the white-haired creature’s
arrival, whose otherworldly feel was much compounded
by his strange attire. He wore a straitjacket repurposed
into a serviceable coat, and in his right hand he held a long
butterfly net. All of it he topped off with a tiny tinfoil crown,
glittering despite the wayward lighting.
The madman drew himself up and addressed the chamber.
“This silly contest of Wolves is hereby disbanded by my
decree, the Lord of Lollipops, and the divine right of the
Talking Vegetables Who Haveth No Names, and by the
authority of several other really important folks, all of whom
have names that begin with extremely big, blood-dripping
capital letters. With this royal broccoli-mation set forth,
we will now proceed to the turning inside-out of you two
gentlemen until you mostly resemble a fat red wad of half-
chewed taffy.” He tapped the butt of his butterfly net on the
ground solemnly. “Sound good?”
Hide and I glanced at each other again, this time in
amazement. Before either of us could answer, the lunatic
began again. “I’m just joshing you, my great big friends.
But we do have to take you to see someone really special,

324 | Mark Anzalone