One Last Reminder ...

[Larry DeLuca <henrik@EDDIE.MIT.EDU>]

	The dim light suddenly changed to black - the occupants of the
	all-too-small room crouched silently, hunched over electronic
	equipment, checking displays, listening intently, hardly
	breathing, and waited for the sirens to pass.  They have not 
	come for us yet, they thought.  As the last bits of visual
	information flickered and went out, the sirens swept up and
	around, wailing like accusing fingers of sound, and a barrage
	of blue light and radio static converged on the place.

	"Open up!", a voice said through the door, and still the inhabitants
	did not move.  "Open up now, I say!  It's the police!".

	Reluctantly, one of the number crept to the door, opening it a
	crack, perring cautiously into the hallway as if half-asleep,
	muttering a single word.  "Yes?".

	"We've received a complaint from the neighbors downstairs.  They
	claim they can hear you Through the Ceiling, and that the noise
	is carrying all the way to the Edge of Town.  I don't know what
	kind of an Ivory Tower you think you live in, but was standing
	In Your Garden and could hear you wailing like a drunken Sailor
	who was already Halfway to Heaven.  Now, we hate to be Hounds
	about it, but your labour of Love is disturbing Mrs. Stevenson
	and she requests that you quiet down.  It is midnight, after
	all."

	With that he turned, went back to his car, and sped off into
	the night.

	"Run for your life," I thought, as I waited for the cry of the
	Seagulls, and Bright, Cold Morning.

Tour of Larry
Part II
TT The Bear's Place
Wednesday, 6 June 1990
9 PM