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throw a rock at their tree. Who knew how much pain he’d have to endure if he did that.
    His number-one priority was to get home before his family, if that was still possible. Vincent walked as fast as he could, unable to run because of his sore bum.
    While he walked, Vincent had time to consider the implications of what had been done to him. He had a magical bug living inside his nose, put there by a race Chanteuse had described as mischievous. As long as that bug was up there, the elves could make him do whatever they wanted.
    What if they asked him to gnaw off his arms? Or told him to kill someone? He was totally under their control for as long as the obyon lived.
    How long did obyons live? And what (gulp) did they eat?
    “Steady on, Vincent,” he told himself as he hobbled. “There has to be a way out of this. Think!”
    He thought. And while he did so, he followed the bike path out of the park and turned left. Now he only had a few blocks to go before he was safe and sound.
    “I could blow it out!” Vincent thought, and he dug around in his pocket for a tissue. He had none, so he pulled up his shirt bottom and tried that.
    Several blows later, he realized it was hopeless. The obyon was anchored too tightly to simply be blown out.
    “Wait a minute,” Vincent snapped his fingers. “It’s an insect, right? I could squirt some bug spray up my nose!”
    He walked a few more meters feeling very happy before he remembered that bug spray was poisonous.
    “Darn!” he said, his spirits dropping again. It was a moot point, anyway; his parents believed in the sanctity of all life, and so there wasn’t any bug spray in the house.
    “If I just took a small dose,” he wondered aloud. “I could go over to Big Tom’s place and use some there. I know they have some … ”
    Big Tom’s home was practically an insect hive. Every time Vincent went over, he spent a good deal of his time helping the family spray roaches. They had boxes of big, black cans in their basement, each with large and foreboding symbols on the front. Breathing the stuff in was not recommended.
    “Too big a risk,” he said as he turned the corner onto his street. “There must be something else I can do. Maybe if I stuck something up my nose … ”
    “Who’s he talking to?”
    “Himself, I think.”
    Vincent couldn’t say for sure if he’d really heard the voices or not. They’d been so faint, just on the edge of his hearing. He looked up and saw the sign for his street above him, with two tiny people sitting upon it.
    “What gives?” he said. “All of a sudden, there are weird critters everywhere!”
    The two tiny people stood up, and golden wings unfolded behind their backs.
    “He sees us!” one of them said.
    “No, I didn’t!” Vincent said hastily, backing away quickly. “No need to stick a bug up my nose. I’m leaving!”
    With that, he turned and ran. Fast.
    • • •
    Vincent had already slammed the front door behind him when he remembered he was supposed to be quiet. It had been his intention to sneak back into the house and re-seal himself in the chapel, just on the off chance his parents hadn’t checked up on him when they’d arrived home.
    And they were home. In his flight from the tiny winged people, Vincent had nevertheless noticed the car was back in the driveway. If he was lucky, they might have gone straight to bed. If he was unlucky …
    Vincent heard a commotion upstairs in his parents’ bedroom. They were coming to investigate! Vincent moved quickly, ignoring his pained bottom as he hurried to the basement. They were in their room, so they probably didn’t know he’d been out. If they did know, he reasoned, they would have stayed up and waited for him to come home. If he could get to the chapel before he was seen, he might just get away with it yet.
    Vincent hopped off the last stair and made for the still-ajar chapel doors. Upstairs, he could hear his father’s footsteps coming down the stairs to the front