The glass tumbled off the tray and zeroed in on the floor. Before it impacted and shattered, Mags' hand caught it and she placed it on the table. The liquid cargo of the container was lost though, jettisoned.
"So sorry," the waitress said. She had been trying to juggle a few plates and cups in her hands.
"I know the score," Mags told her.
The waitress picked up the glass and walked back to the counter. Mags turned her attention back to the laptop sitting before her, fingers dancing across the keyboard like angels in the night.
She was searching the internet. Trying to locate something, some weirdness that was happening around the world. Trying to pinpoint exactly where she might be able to locate the weirdness central.
A dog with two heads in Missouri. A baby that was the spitting image of Elvis born in Canada. Jesus' face appearing on a toaster oven in Mexico. Ninjas attack brothel in Seattle. She scanned each of these items looking for a clue, looking for something to jump right out at her.
"Eureka," she whispered, as she found the something. Elvis spotted at Canadian border. She was heading for Canada. That was two references with Elvis and Canada: she had found the trail.
No comments:
Post a Comment