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thing, but I find a talking dog to be more intrinsically startling than - a seven-foot flying cyborg. But she didn’t blink. Well, I had warned her.
    In that charming German accent of his (he is a Shepherd), Ralph told a fairly complex story about a demonically possessed lady of his acquaintance whom he had exorcised after even a bishop had failed; the yarn built inexorably, to the line, “Possession is nine points of the paw,” and produced some very canine howls of agony from the innocent bystanders.
    Which of course only inspired Doe Webster. “Damned if I’ll be outpunned by a genuine son of a bitch,” he boomed, and folks made way grinning for him as he stepped forward. Physically the Doc resembles a Sumo wrestler gone to fat. He is the All-time Punday Night Champion and probably always will be; only Long-Drink and I still cherish a hope of supplanting him anymore.
    “As many of you know,” the Doc began, “I just got back from visiting Juan Oitiz, an obstetrician friend of mine in Los Angeles. He was nominally on vacation, but one day there was an emergency delivery he just had to attend, so he deputized his brother-in-law Obie Stihl-honest to God, that’s his name, I’d never make up a name like that-deputized Obie to show me around town. We went to Disneyland. Obie turned out to be a dedicated Star Wars freak, with a sense of humor even more depraved than my own-we passed by three sailors on the way in, for instance, and when he noticed they were all Chief Petty Officers, he niade sure to point out the ‘Three C.P.O.s’ (sounds of gagging and dismay from the audience). “So he took me to Adventureland, where you go on a Jungle Boat Ride. Robot hippos come up out of the water and spit at you and so forth.” (“Maybe they were relatives of yours,” Long-Drink murmured, and Callahan shushed him.) “But the worst part was the damned boat captain. Through the whole voyage he kept up a running monologue that had shin splints: bad jokes, worse puns, mother-in-law jokes even. I was in severe pain; fella thought he was a real hot dog. But the wurst was yet to come.” (Gasps.) “As we got back to the wharf, just as I was stepping off the boat, Obie leaned over and whispered in my ear, ‘Now you’re getting to see the dock side of the farce..
    A roar of collective anguish went up, and glasses began to fly toward the hearth. “Rest of us might as well fold up,” Tommy Janssen said. “That’s a winner.”
    “Strictly speaking,” Callahan said with some reluctance, “I’m afraid it ain’t. That story’d probably take the honors if this was Punday Night-but I don’t really see it as a Tall Tale.”
    “He’s right,” Long-Drink said. “It’s nice if the Tall Tale ends with a crime like that, but the Tale itself has to have fantastic elements to it. Sorry, Doc: syntax error.”
    The Doc frowned, but what could he say? They were right. And then divine fire touched me, as it had Noah a while earlier.
    I wanted to impress my new love, and I wanted to help Doe Webster, and it just slipped out before I knew I was going to speak: “I’m surprised at you boys. The fantastic element in that story is staring you all right in the face.”
    Even the Doe looked puzzled. “How’s that, Jake?” Callahan asked.
    “Well, how many of you have ever toured Disneyland, or anyplace else, with a fictional character?”
    The Doe was the only one who saw it coming; his frown left.
    “Doe told you who his guide was: O.B. Juan’s kin, Obie.”
    A frozen silence. Group catatonic shock. And then Ralph began to howl, and was joined by the rest. Every glass in the room, full or empty, began a journey whose terminus was the fireplace; Eddie tried to play the Star Wars theme but was laughing so hard he couldn’t get his hands to agree on a key; Callahan reached threateningly for a seltzer bottle; Doc Webster shook my hand respectfully.
    I glanced aroUnd for Mary to see if she was suitably impressed, and found her staring