Disclaimer: I own nothing contained in this chapter. Otherwise, I would be a lot richer than I am now and I would probably not be writing this.

Hyde A/N: Sorry it's been so long. I think the Fount of Inspiration forgot to pay the water bill. But I will try to get this chapter done pretty soon so you all don't forget me.

"You want me to WHAT?" Michael asked Doujima in disbelief.

"I know it sounds…strange and maybe a little unnecessary, but…"

"Where the heck am I going to find that?"

"I don't know. You're the computer expert."

"I don't even know where to start looking for Amon's medical history. Heck, all I know about the guy is his name and address."

"Just do it please. Oh, and while you're at it, I need you to find someone for me. Her name is Abigail. She lives somewhere in Japan and has dark hair."

"Are you kidding? Where am I going to start? Is she a Seed? Is she Japanese or an immigrant?"

"Sounds like she's an immigrant. What Japanese person would have the name Abigail? She might be a Seed. Check Seeds first, but she might not necessarily be one."

Michael scowled. "Why do you people just call me up and expect miracles?"

Doujima ignored the question. "Thanks, Michael. Bye." She hung up on him and walked down the street. Then, to kill time until Michael called back, she headed out to do some research of her own. Where to find a place that sells blackberries and/or mashed potatoes?

Amon sat in his car and brooded darkly. He didn't entirely trust Doujima to complete her mission. And there was the Touko problem too. What to do about Touko.

Greater love hath no woman than for her breadmachine. Greater love hath no woman than for her breadmachine.

Then, Amon saw that by some weird coincidence a flyer with the following inscription was posted on a nearby telephone pole:

Are you having trouble with your relationship?

Call the Relationship Helpline to find out the things you always wanted to know about dealing with that girlfriend or boyfriend.

Toll free 1-800-555-HELP

Amon looked at it, read it three times, and experienced a moment of deliberation. Well, as long as it was anonymous…

"Excuse me, sir, I understand you are a entrepreneur of mashed potatoes?"

"Among other things, yes."

"Do you happen to notice a thin, dark-haired young woman buying from you often?"

"I…" the man began, but was interrupted by Doujima's communicator.

"Pardon," she said, turned her back, walked away a few steps, and said, "Doujima here," into her communicator.

"Its Michael. I have the results of your searches."

"Okay, lets have it."

"Which first?"

Doujima thought for only a moment before replying, "Amon."

"No medical records of any kind."

"NOTHING! That's impossible! No birth certificate?" (The entrepreneur she had been conversing with glared at her and a startled customer jumped two feet in the air.)

"Not on record anywhere."

"That's crazy. Anyway, how about that stuff on Abigail?"

"I think I've found her. She entered Japan about five years ago under the name of Abigail DeNoel. Her picture fits your description."

"Other information?"

"The usual. Her address, which is apparently an apartment, phone number, age, birthdate, race…oh, here's something interesting. I take that back, here's something strange."

"What?"

"You won't believe this."

"Just tell me, Michael."

"Her religious affiliation is listed as…Oatmealism."

"Okay, that's got to be her. Thanks, Michael. Oh, could you give me that address?"

"Hello, Relationship Helpline, Betty here. What's your problem."

"It's not a problem, it's a question."

"Okay, what's your question." Betty spoke with little enthusiasm. Even the densest person could easily perceive that she had been working this same job for ten years and had given advice to twelve thousand three hundred and eighty-six lost souls. One could as easily perceive that she would have given anything for a mocha latte or a job washing windows.

"My girlfriend's coffee pot, um…died the other day and she's really upset about it. I want to know what you think I should give her or do for her to help her."

"I can't say as I've ever been in mourning over a coffee pot. Let me connect you to someone with more experience in the tragedy area." Betty put Amon on hold and transferred him to a lady the next phone.

"Hello, Linda, crisis specialty department. State your situation."

"Recently, an object that was very dear to my girlfriend was destroyed and she's very upset. How can I help her get over it?"

"Well, I'll tell ya," Linda said, "One thing you don't want to do is get her a replacement. She won't appreciate that. When my ex-husband dropped my favorite bobby pin down the gutter, he bought me hundreds of bobby pins, but it wasn't any good, because none of them were just like my favorite one. And ya don't want to try to convince her to move on either; a woman can be very attached to things in a way that a man like yourself can never understand. Like when Joey broke that ink pen of mine. I loved that ink pen. But Joey didn't understand. He thought it was just an ink pen."

"So what do I do?"

"In my experience, the thing that helps the most is if they just gently and gradually encourage you to move on by helping you forget it and get it off your mind. Don't give her an exact replacement, but give her something else she can dote on, or…"

"Like a breadmachine…"Amon interrupted. "Thank you." He hung up. It was all clear to him now. For once, Abigail's words were not a dire prediction that he must struggle fruitlessly to avoid. They were words of advice.

"Are you Abigail?"

"Yes," the slim, dark-haired girl said serenely.

"Come with me." Doujima did her best to look ominous. Being around Amon so much caused her to be capable of a reasonable facsimile.

"You had better stop this meddling. You better stay out." Doujima glared, and got threateningly in Abigail's face.

"What? Who are you?"

"I'm from the Goddess of Oatmeal," Doujima remembered to say. "My name is none of your business."

"But I don't…"

"You heard me. Stay out, and stop interfering with business that belongs to the Goddess of Oatmeal. You have been warned."

"Is this because I left the Devoted of the Goddess of Oatmeal for the Devoted of Her sister, the Omnipotent Mother Goddess?"

"Don't play innocent, my friend, you know what this is about. Think about what I said." With that, Doujima stepped into her car and drove off. I really need to talk to Amon.

Well, it's not really that long but I want to get it posted today. Oh yeah, I was going to respond to the few reviews that I actually got last time (Ahem…hint hint).

Jessica Rabbit21: Kareoke? I don't think so. I write my stuff more on the story line and try to make the characters do things you can actually imagine them doing. No offense, but I cannot visualize any kareoke. Thanx for the suggestion anyway.

St Earns: No, Amon was never planning to send Robin because a.) she's sick and b.) he did not think Robin would actually threaten anyone if she didn't mean it. She's too mild. Doujima, however, is capable. I am glad you did not feel deprived by the comparative shortness of the brief interlude. And thank you for actually reviewing all the time. Some people looks pointedly at everyone else do not.

There you go, chapter six, however belatedly.

May your house never be filled ceiling to floor with bright green tissue paper,

Hyde