Miracle Myx Wigs Out

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"You got me up for this?"

Myx didn't sound happy. What a shock! But, I wasn't exactly excited about this excursion myself.

"Up? I thought you never slept? At least that's how I wrote you! Heh, heh!"

"I was making conversation. It was a euphemism for 'Why are you bothering me?' and I was being nice," Myx said.

It was 4:45 A.M.--Main Street--and 14 degrees (with a wicked wind!). I didn't blame Myx for rather being somewhere else.

"I wanted to get this in the dark," I told Myx, as if that explained everything.

"Nice flash reflection; that'll show off your photographic talents to our readers."

"That big white spot? They'll never notice because they'll be so intrigued by the ethereal quality of the disembodied heads," I said. Dammit! I should know better than to take a pic head-on into glass! I wouldn't give Myx the satisfaction of admitting a mistake, though.

"You're a poor photographer, Dave--but you have other qualities--"

"That make up for it?" I asked with a bit of hope.

"No. Other faults that overshadow your lack of artistic flair."

"Oh ... I mean ... HEY!"

"Let's go," Myx said, "this is creepy."

"Why?"

"I don't like the way the one on your far left is looking at me," Myx said.

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