I unfocused my eyes and the puppet prison cell reappeared.

Apparently, quite a few of those `hours' must have passed, for now the light in the prison seemed brighter.

The sun shined through bars on the window, and I discovered Gretchen Goose had been correct about how clocks were supposed to work.

My electronic friend came shuffling down the corridor with a stiff piece of black fabric dangling from one claw.

I noticed, to my amusement, that she now wore a suit and tie, somehow cut and shaped to fit her swollen nonhuman proportions like it belonged there.

"Today is the funeral," Gretchen sighed with exaggerated mournfulness.

She held out the piece of fabric. "I'd like you to put this on."

I frowned, lowering my tail. "Why."

"It is customary for humans to put on fancy clothing during religious observances and rituals. At funerals, we honor the dead and the Higher Power by doing this."

"I am not human. I do not wear clothing."

"That is generally true, but this is a special occasion. The Hedgehog Sisters have custom made this tuxedo especially for you. Try it on."

Gretchen Goose laid it on the floor.

"Crawl into it, and slide your soodare through the sleeves. We measured you last night, so it should be a good fit."

I slipped through the bars, wiggling my head through the fabric.

The tailors, whoever they were, had designed my outfit like a tube, and each of my limbs fit perfectly in the small sleeves. I even had a little tie to dangle around my neck. "Why do humans wear clothing?"

"For protection against the cold and the elements. Also to conceal the reproductive organs, which are not socially acceptable to display in public."

"Why is it not acceptable?"

"There are laws against it. Your bible has one possible explanation of the taboo of nudity, but I am not permitted to tell it to you."

"Is this an irrational fear? Like the darkness?"

Gretchen fell silent for a moment. "No. Many humans desire to be naked, but they cover themselves to please others. For respect and the good of the tribe. This is also in respect to mating rights."

Noting expression of puzzlement, she added, "You have seen humans without their clothing before in their private rooms. You know they do not Dokisbi like us. I will explain human reproduction at a later time."

I nodded.

Dokisbi, is the grisly method of my birth. The word has a nicer sound than it truly deserves.

My depth of knowledge regarding human reproduction was limited to what I saw in showers, beds and bathrooms. I had only once seen humans conjoined between the legs, but they had been asleep, either finished with whatever it was, or planning to start something hours in the future, which caused me to lose interest and go away.

Gretchen Goose led me up the staircase and out of the courthouse.

Strangely, no one protested my leaving jail during my "Life sentence." It seemed the inhabitants of this strange world were incredibly naive.

I could have run away if I wanted to, but Gretchen behaved so unusually that curiosity kept me following close on her spiky tail.

We marched past a little print shop, into a tall white stone building with a pointed roof.

An interesting piece of architecture, devoid of any kind of religious imagery. A pair of multicolored stained glass windows framed its large wooden double doors, each panel depicting a puppet living on that particular street. A round window near the pointed roof contained only abstract color, and a couple images of butterflies.

Overall, it strongly resembled the courtroom, except the back end displayed more stained glass puppets. No symbols other than puppet faces.

The same puppets from court now sat in the wooden pews, each sniffing, crying, drying their eyes, or hugging and muttering comforting words to one another. A little pink girl puppet, a purple horned puppet with two heads, an assortment of others.

A blue puppet with a pink nose hugged a crying little human girl in pigtails.

I noticed many humans in attendance, but other than Bob and the policeman, no one I recognized.

I only recognized their grief from the misery I had caused.

The more I saw, the more I wanted to throw up.

Gretchen Goose put me on her shoulders, carrying me past the dead woman's many friends and loved ones.

Maria lay in a gleaming wooden box, surrounded by framed photographs, white padding, and flowers. Only the top half of her body showed, the other half hidden behind a closed lid for obvious reasons.

I stared at the lifeless body for several minutes, struggling with my feelings.

Part of me found this a terrible waste of food and egg laying material. The other part felt sad because the nice lady from the bird's scrapbook was gone forever. I had ended her life before I could even get to know her.

I shuddered.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, Gretchen, who appeared to have been gazing at the body and the framed pictures inside the coffin lid, suddenly wept in the fashion of our people, and Bob put an arm around her, crying with her.

It soon became too much for me. Letting out a loud wail, I buried my face into Gretchen Goose's plates, coughing and sneezing out my sorrows.

Having enough of the viewing, Gretchen carried me to a pew, and I watched everyone grieve, my insides churning with each passing moment.

When would this end?

When could I be free from this guilt?

This shame? This punishment?

Bob stepped up behind a podium, giving a speech about how great a friend Maria was.

I could take no more.

Before he could finish speaking, I ran down the aisle, fleeing out the front entrance.

I had no specific goal in mind, I just wanted to run, to escape from everything.

I ran from my guilt over killing Maria, Reverend, and the man I hatched from.

I ran from the humans and their strange customs and grieving rituals, their confusing religions where you're somehow not allowed to tell people things.

I didn't care where I ran to, I just wanted out.

Out of this crazy brownstone world.

Away from Gretchen Goose, away from Dug and his lab.

As long as I remained in that chapel, and that prison, I felt the walls would keep closing in, and I would die.

I shrugged off my suit and ran across the street, through an alleyway between an apartment complex and a nightclub.

I cut across another street, to a vast park where humans flew kites and played catch with baseballs. It seemed not everybody cared about Maria.

I continued on, between skyscrapers and crazy puppets drilling the pavement with jackhammers as square jawed puppet men popped their heads out of manholes.

I ran over hills, through a forest, entering country land filled with golden sheaves of wheat and strange puppet cows that mooed with human voices.

I kept running (13).

[0000]

(13) The original version continues in Chapter 128, Section III.