Later that evening, Larry fed Squeaky some low-fat cottage cheese, then phoned for a pepperoni-and-anchovy pizza. After making sure his apartment number hadn't spontaneously broken again ("Pizza Angel" was based on fact, if exaggerated for humor), he cleaned up his living room enough for him to concentrate and turned on his reading lamp. He placed his bible on the side table, and settled on the couch with a legal pad and a pencil. He tapped the eraser against his chin, gazing at the blue lines for several minutes before he slumped back with a sigh.

Ordinarily, Larry would say (sometimes sing) a prayer before he began writing, asking God for direction and thanking Him in advance for good ideas, but today he felt strangely reluctant to ask for help. Either Petunia wasn't the girl for him and this whole writing thing was a waste of time, or she was — and Larry might have to approach her before he felt ready.

The wall clock ticked for several minutes, and Larry popped his lips a few times, then clicked his tongue, imitating a turn signal. Still, the legal pad remained blank. Larry glanced up at the ceiling, then down. He checked the clock. He yawned, stretching. He wiggled on the couch.

The legal pad was still blank.

Larry had to do something.

Sighing, he tilted over and flopped on his side, at last surrendering.

"God," he said, "do You think it's gross for a guy my age to like a lady who is Petunia's age?"

He rolled on his back, gazing up at the white ceiling. "I know we're both adults, but if we were meant to be together, why not have me be younger, or her be older? You could have made us be born closer together. Or does the age difference automatically mean that You never meant her for me?"

On his parents' anniversary, Larry's father liked to quote both Proverbs 18:22 and Proverbs 19:14. One said whosoever who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord while the other said a prudent wife was from the Lord. In either case, God had something to say in whom a guy married. If God meant Petunia for someone else, then Larry was spinning his wheels in neutral trying to get her attention.

And Larry really, really, super really hoped that wasn't the case.

He raised himself up a little only to plop back down. "God, can You… let me know, either way?"

He exhaled and reached for his legal pad, positioning it on his stomach. He closed his eyes and tried to picture a story.

A protagonist who felt too old to tell a pretty woman he liked her. Simple. Relatable. Who could Larry use? What advice did his protagonist need? What was the climax where the protagonist overcame his problem?

Maybe it was because he was working on Celery Night Fever, but Lanny Wilson appeared in his mind, standing in Larry's apartment. He was dressed in his magician costume, and his receding white hair formed something like a half-eaten donut around his green head.

Boy, he sure looks sad, Larry thought.

He followed the elderly man's gaze, and he realized Ms. Petunia sat at his kitchen table grading papers. She contently hummed "Together" while her red pen glided over a worksheet. Although Ms. Petunia wasn't officially his love interest in the upcoming episode, Wilson gazed at her with pure longing.

The retired disco star sighed. "Even if she wasn't Laura's teacher, a young, pretty thing like her wouldn't want to date a guy old enough to be her father."

"Probably not," Larry said sadly. "She could have her pick of the younger guys."

In his imagination, Wilson turned to frown at him. "Wow. Ouch."

"What? I agreed with you!" Larry protested.

"Yeah, but you didn't have to say it out loud!" Wilson pouted, plopping his top hat on his balding head.

Larry imagined himself rising and crossing over to the grumpy, lovelorn cuke.

"So, how am I supposed to— uh, how may I help you, Lanny?" he asked.

Wilson looked up. "Ever played matchmaker for a disco star and a school teacher?"

"No, but I once performed a wedding for my two gerbils."

Wilson sighed. "I guess that's better than nothing."

He flopped onto the wooden chair which Larry's brothers had made for his birthday. He pulled out one of his trick wands and gave it a wave. The tip burst with purple smoke, and a bouquet of paper daisies sprouted. He swiveled toward Ms. Petunia — and then tossed the bouquet over his shoulder, where it landed neatly in Larry's waste basket.

Wilson seemed to wilt. "Do I even have a chance with her?"

Larry took a deep breath, running through his writer checklist. Sometimes it helped him to pretend he was an interviewer for his characters.

"Okay, when I have to work on a story, I have to ask what my character wants and why they want it. In your case, it's pretty obvious what you want."

"It's not that obvious, isn't it?" Wilson asked, his eyes darting around.

"But why do you lov— uh, like Ms. Petunia?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Wilson's eyes turned back to the lovely teacher. "She's super kind to her students, especially my Laura. She's enthusiastic about music. She's passionate and determined."

"A lot like the real Petunia," Larry observed quietly.

"She came to the benefit concert super early in order to get a good spot, and she made the sign to cheer me on specifically."

"She might like you — you know, a little."

Wilson lifted himself up and flopped against the wooden backrest. "She's my granddaughter's teacher! Not my daughter's teacher, my granddaughter's! If I wasn't a Groovy Brother, she wouldn't see me as anything but a kooky old guy who came to Grandparents Day."

"But you're her favorite band member," Larry offered helpfully.

"Yeah, but she's not the type to fall for a guy for his celebrity status," Wilson said. "A lady like that needs to be romanced properly — but I can't even talk to her about that stuff!"

"How did you talk to your wife?" Larry asked. "You know, Laura's grandmother?"

Wilson shook his head.

"That was different. We were both young when we got married, and, well, I haven't been involved with anyone since she passed away," he sighed. "I'm out of practice in the dating department."

"And I have zero practice," Larry murmured. "This isn't like marrying your gerbils together at all."

Larry paced the floor, thinking hard. Ms. Petunia smiled at him whenever he looked at her but otherwise continued to grade papers. She appeared so non-threatening, so nice — and somehow that made it harder to talk to her.

"We need a really brave guy," Larry decided. He knitted his nonexistent brow in thought, then gave a little jump. "Larry-Boy!"

Almost at once, a clunk! echoed in the apartment, and Larry whirled around to see a plunger had lobbed itself onto his ceiling. It was connected to a taut yellow cord, and the cord led outside to his balcony, and a silhouette stood in the darkness.

Larry gasped. "It's a bird! It's a plane! It's—"

The figure gave a jerk, using his cord like a swinging vine, and he soared into the room. A look of determination was etched into his masked face, and he landed neatly, jerking his head again, now to recall the plunger, which flew back into place on his purple helmet like a pull string on a toy.

"Larry-Boy," the superhero said, puffing out his chest.

"This is so cool!" Larry cried, leaping up.

Wilson studied the newcomer. "Why aren't you called Larry-Man?"

The superhero shot him a look as if wondering whether that was a real question. "Because I'm Larry-Boy."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I guess that makes sense."

Larry-Boy ignored him and struck a heroic pose. "And how can I be of service, Citizens? Is the Milk Money Bandit on the loose? Is Awful Alvin up to his old tricks?"

"Something scarier," Larry sighed.

"Girl trouble," Wilson vouchsafed.

Larry-Boy nearly toppled over. He looked at both men incredulously.

"Um, are you sure you need me? That sounds like a job for an advice columnist."

"Maybe you can give us some heroic advice anyway," Larry pleaded, nudging his head toward Ms. Petunia, who was still calmly grading papers.

Larry-Boy brightened. "Hey, I didn't know Petunia was teaching now. Good for her!"

"Actually—" Wilson began, but Larry-Boy chuckled, not paying attention.

"She's so versatile. Teacher, news reporter, fashion-themed superheroine— uh, I mean—" Larry-Boy's eyes widened, realizing he had said too much. He looked guiltily at the other cucumbers. "Pretend you didn't hear that."

"Larry knows Vogue's secret identity already," Wilson deadpanned.

Larry-Boy gasped. "Who told you?!"

"Um…" Larry gave him a look, not sure how he was supposed to answer.

Comprehension clicked on Larry-Boy's face, and he broke into a laugh. "Right, sorry. Sometimes I forget I'm a fictional character."

"Anyway," Larry said, wanting to get back on target, "this version of Petunia belongs to Lanny's world, and he needs help. How would you ask out Vogue, if, you know, you were ready to?"

Larry had never seen a cucumber turn red before, but anything was possible in one's imagination.

"M-Me and Vogue?" Larry-Boy stammered, stumbling back. "W-Why would you think that? She's not interested in me like that!"

"Are you sweating because you're wearing spandex, or because of something else?" Wilson asked with a Bob-like knowing look.

"Uh, um…" Larry-Boy looked around for a quick exit.

"And didn't you already have another love interest?" Wilson asked. "Valerie or something?"

Larry-Boy looked at the floor. "V-Vicki."

"Did you ever ask her out?"

"Kinda?"

"Dark Crow ended up being a third wheel on their date to the Founders' Day Dance," Larry explained for him.

Wilson nodded. "And where's Vicki now?"

Larry-Boy shifted uncomfortably.

"In Lollyhaven, with Dark Crow — but I really do wish them both well," he insisted, "especially since I have Vog— Vo—"

He gulped suddenly, resembling a fish.

"C'mon, Larry-Boy," Larry pleaded, wishing he had hands so that he could fold them in supplication. "We did a whole story about conquering fear. Can't you give me any advice?"

Larry-Boy gulped again, but before he could form a response, a suave voice spoke.

"If you want a hero who has actually been on a real date, you could give me a call."

It was then Larry realized someone was sitting in his armchair by the balcony. His posture and smirk exhibited cool confidence. A brown fedora rested on his head, and he wore a leather jacket.

"Minnesota Cuke!" Larry cried happily.

Minnesota tipped his fedora. "You were expecting maybe Harrison Ford?"

"Wow, he's pretty cool," Wilson said.

"Not that cool," Larry-Boy muttered, flexing his super-suction ears.

Larry hurried to his creation's side. "So, you've been on a date, Minn?"

"Isn't that what you put in my back story with Julia?" Minnesota grinned, sliding off the chair.

Larry stammered, "Y-Yeah, but…"

Minnesota straightened and tipped his hat again. "Thanks for that, by the way, pal."

Larry's face felt like an oven, and he turned away with a groan.

"Well, how did you work up the nerve to ask her out?" Wilson asked, looking at Minnesota with a little awe.

"It helped that we had common ground," Minnesota explained. "Archaeology, children's museums, chocolate malts. After a few conversations, we caught a bite to eat, then a movie. Everything worked out."

"Didn't you do something to make Julia give up archaeology, though?" Wilson frowned.

Minnesota coughed, pulling his fedora down to his eyes. "Why do you gotta bring up old stuff..."

Larry thinned his lips, mulling on what Minnesota had said about common ground. He and Petunia had a lot in common. They liked show biz, Westerns, chocolate, video games and cool hats. They both wanted to use their acting careers to serve God and help children with their problems. Was that enough to let them develop their friendship into something deeper?

"I don't know…" Larry muttered to himself.

"Hey, I have a few ideas!" cried a new, albeit similar, voice.

"Oh, great," Wilson rolled his eyes.

"What? It's only the Italian Scallion," Larry said, surprised and a little defensive, as a sumo wrestler burst into the room. He wore a dark-green mask, which had three stalks like a scallion, and a yellow mawashi loincloth.

Minnesota Cuke snorted. "You have ideas about getting a date?"

"Date? I prefer umeboshi," answered Scallion, shaking his masked head, "and I was actually talking about ideas for the sequels."

Larry stared at him. "Huh?"

"You know," Scallion grinned, "the second film is where Apollo Gourd and I have a rematch. The third film, Apollo Gourd trains me against Po Tato because I have the Eye of the Tiger Bike. The fourth film I face off against a Russian—"

"We're not talking about a franchise," Larry-Boy cut in. "We're talking about real problems."

Scallion shrugged, unfazed. "Whatever it is, you guys need to persevere! Keep on keeping on!"

"Even when it comes to a cute girl?" Larry asked.

Scallion blinked. "What cute girl?"

The others nudged their heads toward Ms. Petunia, and Scallion turned — and promptly did a double take. His small mouth spasmed, and he nervously drew himself up to his full height, dipping into a deep bow.

"Konnichi wa!" he squeaked.

"Konbon wa," Ms. Petunia twinkled back, bowing her head. "Watashi no namae wa Petunia desu. O-genki desu ka?"

"Ha-Hai… Hajimemashite," he answered, looking like he was about to collapse. "Anata wa koko ni yoku kimasu ka?"

Larry-Boy crossed over to the quaking sumo wrestler and gave him a playful nudge with the edge of his plunger.

"So, Scallion, how would you 'persevere' with Ms. Petunia?"

"Well, uh, I—I—" Scallion cleared his throat, smoothing down the bendable stalks on his headpiece.

"Can you not?" Wilson complained. "I've heard of third wheels, but this bike is getting overcrowded."

Scallion did not seem to hear. He hopped closer to Petunia.

"Uhh, M-Ms. Petunia?"

She laid aside her red pen. "Yes, Scallion-san?"

He cleared his throat. "M-May I ask you something?"

"Of course," Petunia smiled.

Scallion looked at the floor.

"Would... Would you like to grab a coff—" Scallion spun away. "Hey, look! A distraction!"

Ms. Petunia turned, and Scallion ducked behind Larry-Boy. He had not lied, however; just then another cucumber hopped out of Larry's bathroom. He wore a crown and a purple robe that looked more like a bathrobe. He carried a yellow rubber ducky and shook an empty bottle upside down.

"Hey, Larry, you're out of bubble bath," he called, disappointed.

"King George!" Larry cried, genuinely confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to take a bath, for starters," the king replied, hopping to the kitchen to toss away the bottle.

"No, I mean, you don't have a queen," Larry reminded him. "How can you help out with a girl problem?"

"I don't know," King George shrugged. He glanced at Ms. Petunia, and then suddenly tilted his head. He studied her for a moment before he said, "She bears a striking resemblance to Great-Grandma Petunia, Duchess of Scone, though."

"What about helping Lanny Wilson with his love interest?" Larry questioned.

"Well, I'm not sure. Bathsheba was replaced by a bath toy." He squeaked his rubber ducky.

"Oh, yeah," Larry remembered.

"But I'm based on King David, and he had a number of wives," King George pointed out. "He even had a lovely maiden named Abishag take care of him in his old age."

"That's not too bad," Minnesota Cuke said.

Larry grabbed his bible to check, and King George told him to look up the first chapter of 1 Kings.

"He's right," Larry said.

"Yeah, but that was David," Wilson said sadly. "You know, 'David and Goliath' David, 'Wrote a Book of the Bible' David, 'Ancestor of Jesus' David. He wasn't an old disco star."

"But he did write songs," Minnesota Cuke pointed out helpfully.

"But not disco."

"You do have a point," King George nodded, before he returned to his ducky and gave it a few squeaks.

Minnesota Cuke glared at him, then addressed Larry. "Haven't you played guys who have been, you know, actually married?"

"Sure, there's my very first role where I was in a wedding," Larry said. "Duke Duke."

Almost immediately, his bedroom door opened, and a snappy dresser sauntered into the living room. He was dressed in a red hat with a white feather and a medieval tunic accessorized with a belt that bore a large buckle.

"Hello, gentlemen," he said with a noble bow.

"Boy, am I glad to see you!" Larry crossed over to him. "You actually got the girl in your story."

"Only because she wanted to marry me," Duke said, looking suddenly shy.

"How did you get to that point in your relationship?" Larry-Boy asked, reaching for Larry's legal pad to take notes.

"Well, it helped that I jousted for her and got her first husband's castle back," Duke replied.

"I don't think that'll help here," Wilson deadpanned.

"But," Duke continued, "Sweet, Sweet Petunia was already falling in love with me because she thought I was nice — can you believe it?" he asked dreamily. "A kind, beautiful princess like her thought I was nice, and she fell in love with me!"

"I'm pretty nice," Larry said to himself, "but am I nice enough?"

Wilson, meanwhile, countered, "But, Duke, you didn't have a big age difference between you and Princess Petunia."

"Oh, no?" Duke grinned. "Don't you know Larry's mom based her story on the Book of Ruth?"

"That's true," Larry murmured, reaching for his bible.

Duke looked kindly at him. "Check out Chapter Three, and you'll see Boaz was older than Ruth."

Duke addressed the rest of the group. "When Ruth asked him to marry her as part of Hebrew law, Boaz was pleased she didn't try to marry one of the younger men. They got married and had a baby, who became the grandfather of David, you know."

"He's right," said Minnesota Cuke, who had gone over to read over Larry's shoulder. "Right there in the B-I-B-L-E."

He gave Larry a nudge. Larry wiggled, looking away.

King George, who had meanwhile been happily tossing his rubber duck in the air, suddenly caught sight of Duke. He stopped, gasping.

"Wait a minute! Great-Grandpa Duke?"

Duke broke into a smile. "Great-Grandson Georgie Porgie Pudding and Pie?"

King George beamed. "If anyone else ever called me that, I'd lock them in my dungeon!"

The two embraced heartily.

"Did you bring me any presents?" King George asked.

Minnesota turned to Larry with a smirk. "Sooo, an older guy managed to marry a younger girl and have a family with her. You looked up to Duke since you were a kid, right?"

"Knock it off, Minn," Larry mumbled.

Minnesota shook his head. "Alright, if you won't listen to Duke, let's bring out somebody else. Name another one of your married characters."

"I guess Stewart Green and Moe," said Larry.

The words had barely left his mouth when an animalistic snort arose from the balcony outside his front door. Larry straightened.

"Is that a water buffalo I hear?" he asked.

As if in reply, a brown mass wearing a black mask burst through the door. Two green figures sat on the back, one dressed in a cowboy outfit, the other in a blue suit with a hat.

Moe looked over Zippy's furry shoulder. "No, he's a regular buffalo."

Stewart leapt to the ground, wincing. "Next time, let's take a train."

Minnesota Cuke hopped forward. "Great! You guys actually have some life experience. As husbands and fathers, what can you say to Larry about asking out Petunia Rhubarb?"

"You mean Lanny Wilson asking out Ms. Petunia," Larry said quickly.

Minnesota Cuke rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Anyway…"

Moe slid off Zippy's back and tied the reins to the nearby closet door handle. "You could always rescue her from a bear."

"We don't exactly have those around these parts," Larry pointed out.

"Pray for God's direction?"

"I've done that. A little," Larry mumbled. "Still waiting for an answer."

"Moe," Minnesota Cuke jumped in, "you're based on Moses, right? He was pretty old."

Moe gave him a deadpanned look. "Yes…"

"Did he ever marry a younger woman?"

"I guess that Ethiopian lady was probably younger than him," Moe mused, leaning against Zippy. "You know, the one Miriam disapproved of, so she became stricken with leprosy."

"I heard that story way back in Sunday school," Larry remembered.

Wilson sighed. "But that was Moses. You know, 'Baby in the Ark' Moses, 'Prince of Egypt' Moses, 'Parted the Red Sea' Moses, 'Leader over the Twelve Tribes' Moses. That impresses women more than disco."

"What about you, Stewart?" Larry asked, turning to the other newcomer. "How did you win Donna?"

Stewart straightened his blue hat with a smile. "When it came to Donna, I gave it one hundred and ten percent, even when we were high-school sweethearts."

"Ms. Petunia wasn't alive when I was in high school," Wilson sighed glumly. "She wasn't even alive when the Groovy Brothers were big — or when I went solo."

Stewart grew sympathetic. "Wow. Bummer."

"You don't have to say it like that," Wilson snapped.

While Stewart quickly apologized, Scallion suddenly perked up.

"Hey, Larry-Boy, Moe, c'mere!"

The two obliged him, and Scallion grinned.

"We're the Three Mask-keteers!"

Larry-Boy leaned away. "Okay, that pun hurt even me."

Wilson rolled his eyes and turned to Larry. "Are any of your other characters paired with a Petunia?"

"I guess there's Captain Cuke," Larry mused. "He was fun to play."

Something whirred to his left, and Larry realized a hovering log with an antenna had zipped into the room. A second later, a cucumber in a white jumpsuit strode in.

"Captain's log, star date: Saturday," he dictated. "I seem to have landed on a planet of cucumbers. Camouflage should be easier than normal. Captain's log out."

"Anyone else hear a theremin playing?" Stewart asked, looking around.

Larry hurried toward the starship captain. "Great! Maybe you can give me—uh, Lanny Wilson some advice. What's the story with you and Luna?"

Captain Cuke shrugged. "Why are you asking me? You wrote the script."

"Mostly the jokes and slapstick," Larry insisted sheepishly.

"Well, Bob sure didn't write the two of us flirting."

"Oooooooooh," hooted the other cucumbers.

"Knock it off, guys," Larry clipped.

Minnesota Cuke adjusted his fedora, smirking. "The real Petunia is right. Even when you guys aren't paired, you're still paired."

"You knock it off too, Minn."

Duke grinned mischievously. "You really do like having Petunia in episodes ever since you filmed my story."

"She's a great actress," Larry mumbled, hopping back toward the couch. "I'm really… comfortable playing against her."

"She's really loving," Stewart nodded, pulling out his wallet to gaze tenderly at a black-and-white photo of him and Donna.

"And kind," Duke sighed, drawing out a wallet-sized painting of his own bride.

"She's really decisive," Larry-Boy blushed.

"And she's super smart," Minnesota Cuke added.

"A sapphire in the rough," Captain Cuke quipped dreamily.

"Incredibly sweet," Moe said, and Zippy nodded in agreement.

"Very, very sweet," Larry murmured.

A rustling arose from the kitchen, and a young character hopped out with a piece of chocolate. He had a white baseball cap with a rabbit silhouette, and he wore a red tie with yellow polka dots.

Larry squinted at him. "Wait, I remember you. You're, uh… uh… starts with Y…"

"Benny," the newcomer replied.

"Ends with a Y," Larry corrected himself.

"I'm from the episode with 'The Bunny Song'," Benny said. "You know, the one based on the three Hebrew boys in the fiery furnace — the episode, I mean, not 'The Bunny Song.'"

Larry nodded. "Riiiiiight."

"That was from back when you still took children's roles."

"Oh, yeah. Bob and I used to play characters in Junior's age group," Larry remembered. "Well, do you got any advice about girls?"

"I dunno," shrugged the younger. "Am I even old enough to like girls…" He trailed off, suddenly brightening when he spotted Ms. Petunia. "Wow! Do I get to marry her when I grow up?"

Ms. Petunia chuckled good-naturedly, as if she were used to her students developing crushes on her. Wilson, however, hopped between her and Benny.

"Get in line, Junior," he frowned.

"No, Junior's the asparagus," Larry-Boy corrected. "Benny's a cucumber."

"You'd think he'd remember a thing like that," King George whispered to Duke Duke.

Minnesota Cuke turned to Larry. "Why did you imagine Benny coming here?"

"I don't know. Maybe I wanted the chocolate in the pantry," Larry guessed. "That pizza I ordered is taking a pretty long time."

"Did somebody say… 'pizza'?"

From the pantry popped another cucumber, this one with a red necktie and a cow-shaped hat on his head. He presented a steaming pepperoni pizza no doubt fresh from MacPotiphar's restaurant.

Some of the other cucumbers gathered around him.

"Great! Superhero work sure builds up an appetite." Larry-Boy declared.

"Intergalactic travel does too," Captain Cuke bragged.

"Hey, Uncle Little Joe," Moe greeted him.

"Hey, Nephew Moe," Little Joe smiled back.

"Quite a day for family get-togethers," Duke commented.

While the hungry, hungry cucumbers grabbed plates, Little Joe passed around chilled bottles of root beer. Just as Larry got in line, wondering whether imaginary pizza would be filling, Minnesota Cuke drew him aside.

"You got a lotta guys here to help you," he whispered. "What are you gonna do about Petunia?"

"Ignore the problem and hope it goes away?" Larry smiled weakly.

Minnesota Cuke rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Larry. Who else do you need to show up before you make a move?"

The words had barely left his mouth when a foghorn blared outside. Larry spun toward the balcony, squinting, and his mind registered that a large mass was plowing toward his second-floor apartment. Minnesota Cuke knocked him to the side just in time to avoid a large steel ship bursting into his living room.

The other cucumbers shrieked, jumping out of the way — Zippy reared in fright — Wilson scooped up Ms. Petunia and bolted to safety — and the ship crashed into the opposite wall.

"Why are you imagining that?!" Minnesota Cuke demanded, rounding on Larry.

"I — don't — know!" Larry screamed.

The engine in the ship shut off, and footfalls echoed in the cabin, then pattered across the deck. A moment later, a stern cucumber head appeared over the ledge. He had thick, dark eyebrows and beard, and he wore a furry cap with a white polar-bear sewn on the front.

Larry gasped. "Captain Larry Romanov!"

"World-famous, Russian, ice-breaker pilot!" Larry-Boy whistled.

Captain Romanov nodded without a smile. "Vsem privet."

"What are you doing here?" Stewart cried, hopping forward. "You weren't even a real character that Larry played, just a daydream."

"And you didn't have a love interest either," King George pointed out.

Romanov raised a thick eyebrow. "Love interest? What love interest?"

Moe nudged his head toward the original Larry. "This cowhand here is stuck on a right pretty lady."

"Where is lady now?"

"I'm a character she plays," Ms. Petunia said amiably.

Wilson still carried her. He had been staring at the ship in shock, but the moment Ms. Petunia spoke, he snapped out of it, and his mind finally registered their close proximity. He quickly set her down and leapt back.

Captain Romanov peered down at Ms. Petunia and actually smiled a little, tipping his furry cap. "Zdravstvuyte."

"Don't 'zdravstuyte' her." Wilson glared.

"So what is problem?" Captain Romanov asked, still gazing at Ms. Petunia. "Pretty lady likes Larry-chik, da?"

"We don't know," Stewart admitted. "Larr' here can't work up the nerve to ask her out."

"I see. He is like Pierrot, who sighs for Malvina," Captain Romanov nodded sagely. "He does not need malina. He does not fear angina, if only his Malvina loves him alone."

"I don't even know what you're talking about," Larry said blankly.

Captain Romanov shrugged. "What do you want from me? This is your fantasy, Larry-chik." He turned to the others. "Now, who wants to help free whales from ice?"

Most of the identical faces lit up. "Me! Me! Me!"

Several of the cucumbers began hopping on board. Minnesota Cuke, however, shot Larry a look.

"Okay, this is getting silly, even for you."

Wilson nodded, scowling. "Yeah, weren't you supposed to help me with Ms. Petunia?"

"Are you sure you need help at this point?" Stewart asked, picking up his overturned plate of pizza. "She's heard every word we've said."

Ms. Petunia smiled, mirth shining from her eyes. She turned expectantly toward Wilson, but he spun away.

"No, no, I can't!" he groaned. "It'll be a disaster!"

Larry glanced at Ms. Petunia, who still wore that special look he had seen so many times on the real Petunia when they were acting out a romantic scene. While this woman was a fictional character, those emotions were real in her mind, and she wanted Wilson to know that.

"She might say yes," Larry said slowly.

"But why would she?" Wilson cried. "She could go after younger men. She doesn't need me."

"Well, Ruth didn't go after younger men," Larry pointed out. "She married Boaz."

"But I'm not Boaz."

Larry frowned. "Well… so what? God isn't a respecter of persons. If Boaz can marry a younger woman — or Moses marry the Ethiopian woman — or David be nursed by Abishag, then why is it weird for Lanny Wilson to marry Ms. Petunia?"

"But Ms. Petunia probably doesn't see it that way."

Larry looked again at the longing in Ms. Petunia's gaze, and he started to feel annoyed. "Why don't you just ask her out? The worst she can do is say no."

"But once I ask her out, she'll know I like her," Wilson protested.

"Well — well — at least she'll know where you stand with her!" Larry said exasperatedly. "'Open rebuke is better than secret love,' you know!"

Stewart leapt between them, smiling. "Exactly, Larry."

Larry stared. "Huh?"

Minnesota Cuke nudged him playfully. "You said it yourself, pal. Let your Petunia know where you stand with her."

Larry jumped away as if bitten. "W-Wait! Hang on!"

His other characters leaned over the side of Captain Romanov's boat, wearing encouraging smiles.

"Let her know you want her to be your queen," advised King George, giving his ducky a veggie hug.

"And that you're over the moon about her," Captain Cuke winked.

"And that you want to be her hero!" Larry-Boy added, shooting his plunger out to swing down to Larry's level. "You — are — that — hero!"

"Tell her what a rare find she is," Minnesota Cuke smirked.

"Break the ice!" Captain Romanov called out.

"You never know," Moe put in cheerfully, tugging the brim of his hat. "Maybe she's just a-hankerin' to be a cowboy's sweetheart."

"C'mon, Larry!" Scallion cried, waving a triangular flag with ラリー written on it. "Faito!"

"One hundred and ten percent!" Stewart encouraged.

Duke Duke chirped, "Joust do it."

The others joined in, hopping off the boat. "Do it! Do it! Do it!"

Larry backed away, feeling the heat drain from his face. "Hey, this is my fantasy. You guys aren't supposed to gang up on me like this!"

Wilson, meanwhile, looked tentatively toward Ms. Petunia, but then he squared his shoulders, stuck out his chest, and hopped over to her. He waved his wand, causing a bouquet of fake daisies to sprout, and he handed it to her. She batted her eyes at him — with no thought of breaking a blinking record behind her gaze — and closed the distance between them. Wilson pulled her close, and she leaned against him with a sigh, before they both turned to Larry.

"Isn't this worth the risk?" Wilson asked.

Larry squeaked, but before he could form a better reply, a loud knocking drew him back to reality.