Write of Passage - Chapter 3 ( The Passage, Part 2)

© 2024 by the authors using the pen names UpperNorthLeft and Jalibar62.

This is Part Three (and the conclusion) of the second story in the ongoing adventures of Harry and Portia; the first being "Write 'em, Cowboy." This will make a lot more sense if you read that one first.

This picks up right where Chapter Two left off.

Any frisky frolicking, hot monkey lovin', or other sexy shenanigans are between consenting adults 18 years of age or older.

===

Roanoke to Nashville

FLISS

We were headed down I-81 and were a little ways past Bristol -- a town that straddles the Virginia-Tennessee line -- when I saw the sign: Pigeon Forge - Gatlinburg. I mean, we'd seen some strange names on our journey, but what the hell was a Pigeon Forge? I must have said it out loud because Harry perked up.

"Oh! I almost forgot! That's where Dollywood is. We should stop!"

Slowly, I said, "What... the ever-loving fuck... is Dollywood?"

"It's a theme park that Dolly Parton opened a while back. It's got rides like a regular amusement park, but of course there's country music, lots of Southern food, and Appalachian crafts. Stuff like that. Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Harry... I have two words for you. Fuck and No." And I held onto the steering wheel like grim death until we were past Knoxville and safely headed west.

===

HARRY

I chuckled to myself at Fliss's vehemence, and Portia kicked me under the table. I grinned at her and got back to coding.

A couple of hours or so later, Fliss swung into the Nashville Marriott. Betty had agreed that we could splurge on a hotel from time to time. It would be a nice break from glamping in the RV. And it was walking distance to the Vanderbilt University Bookstore, where our next reading slash signing was set up.

We got adjoining rooms and Fliss immediately opened the interior door, before falling backward onto her bed. She giggled -- still a work in progress -- and began making snow angels -- sheet angels? -- on her bed.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she grinned at Portia, who was watching her with mild amusement and leaning on the door jamb.

"Don't get me wrong; I love my little cubbyhole on the RV, but this? This, I could get used to." She flopped back, wriggled again, and sighed happily.

Portia laughed, then pulling the door part way closed, she came over to me. "What about you, cowboy? Could you get used to this?"

I pulled her close and dropped my voice half an octave. "I reckon I could get used to anything as long as you're with me." Portia's face went all squidgy, but the gagging sounds from the other room ruined the moment.

Undeterred, I continued, "That's a pretty big bed!" I waggled my eyebrows at my honey. "Give you any ideas?"

The slamming door had us both laughing.

===

Somehow, Betty had once again worked her magic, and had gotten us tickets to the Grand Ole Opry that evening. Fliss had to be dragged kicking and screaming, but once there, she grudgingly admitted that Chase Rice was "kinda cute."

Once back at the hotel, she made a point of putting in her ear buds as she gave us a knowing smirk. We took full advantage. Three times!

===

Once again, the reading went well. There were more younger women than I anticipated, but I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. We were at the university, after all.

Fliss got a few looks, but she bore them with equanimity. She even kept from rolling her eyes when a blonde with a Southern drawl thicker than molasses asked us, "What made y'all decide to have both your characters wearin' their boots during their first time in bed? That seems kinda... difficult? Wouldn't they hafta take their boots off, you know, so they could get their britches off, and then why would they put their boots back on?"

With a teasing grin, she added, "I know I wouldn't have bothered at that point!"

I overheard the girl next to her whisper, "Savannah, you're so bad!"

I noticed that the blonde was looking directly at me with a challenging grin when she asked her question. I looked at Portia to see if she wanted to field it. However, she merely quirked an amused eyebrow and extended her hand palm up to me. I glanced at Fliss, whose facial expression was neutral, but whose eyes expressed deep merriment at my dilemma.

Okay -- here goes. "That's a great question. I'll answer it with a peek inside our heads while we were writing it. We also spotted that tiny inconsistency in our plot, but were so taken with the double meaning of 'bumping boots', that we decided to leave it in. After some brainstorming, we finally decided to sell it as a state of sexual urgency between our main characters so extreme that they couldn't wait long enough to completely undress."

The blonde gave me a dubious look, so I pressed on. "Remember, our hero was the only one wearing pants in that scene, and if you recall, they were yanked down rather abruptly by the heroine. He returned the favor by ripping off her skirt and panties."

The blonde now looked a bit less skeptical. Saucily, she said, "Hmm. I guess I was in such a hurry to get to the good part that I missed the panty-rippin'!" With a salacious smirk, she continued, "And I do love me a good panty-rippin'..."

"Savannah!" hissed her mortified friend.

After the laughter died down, I continued, "So, we doubled down on that euphemism for sex and added a bit of added alliteration to get the final title of our book -- Bumping Boots at the Circle Seven. As you can tell, we never met a metaphor we didn't like!"

Dead silence reigned for several seconds, and then was finally broken by Fliss of all people, who snorted and then started laughing her ass off. The sight of our gloomy goth girl losing her shit triggered other laughter, as my terrible pun finally sank in.

I added a clincher to my argument, "Besides, that whole scene has been experimentally tested and verified by our research team."

Savannah's mouth fell open. Portia turned bright red and put her hand over her face as a fresh round of laughter broke out. When that finally died down, I added, "One of us -- who shall remain nameless -- wrote an initial draft in which our hero also wore his spurs to bed, but this was quickly vetoed by the other member of our research team."

Portia spluttered when she heard this, which triggered a final spate of laughter.

===

After the reading, we decided to head down into town, along lower Broadway. I had been wanting to see the Johnny Cash Museum and thought I would have to drag Fliss along, but she acquiesced pretty easily. Surprisingly, it was Portia who took a pass, saying she'd rather check out the Goo Goo candy store across 3rd Avenue from the museum. Well, she did have a bit of a sweet tooth. If you didn't grow up south of the Muffin-Biscuit Line, Goo Goo Clusters are yet another fine Southern tradition; similar to what other folks might call "turtles."

Anyway, once inside, Fliss joked and made a few off-color remarks as we wandered through the rooms filled with various memorabilia. Joked, that is, until we got to the end, where we watched a video loop of The Man in Black. Holy Mother Mary, talk about getting right up in your feels!

If you've never heard Johnny Cash's cover of the Nine-Inch Nails song, "Hurt," prepare yourself. Tissues and a glass of whiskey are recommended.

Fliss just stared, tears streaming, and when I touched her gently on the shoulder, she turned and buried her face in my chest. We stood there for a few moments while I held her and stroked her hair.

Outside, Portia gave me a worried look, and I mouthed, "Later," as I transferred the emotional girl to her care.

After she'd calmed a bit, and explained what had happened, we went and bought her a pair of cowboy boots. Because why not! Retail therapy! They were black, of course.

Now that we were all properly attired, we moseyed next door to Ole Red -- Blake Shelton's bar. We managed to find seats up on the rooftop, enjoyed a few drinks, and watched the crowds wander up and down Broadway.

===

Nashville to Fort Wayne

PORTIA

We had such a great time in Nashville that it was surprisingly difficult to leave. Fliss was becoming more and more like a little sister to Harry and me. But with the long drive to Indiana looming in the Wondrous WOW's ginormous windshield, it was time to buckle down to writing once more.

Harry had finally caught up on his coding, or decoding, or whatever, so we were back to cowriting. We sat facing each other across the table, laptops linked through the magic of Google Docs, and began to type.

I loved working with him like this -- bouncing ideas off each other, hashing out plot points, and keeping each other in check from some of our more outrageous ideas.

Bumping Boots had been our first collaboration together, and most of that time, we were winging it. It was a lot of fun, but perhaps a bit more chaotic than necessary. This time, we tried to write more deliberately, using the working title: Spur of the Moment.

Harry widened his eyes as I pulled out a large piece of butcher paper, covered with my chicken-scratched lists of characters, story arcs, and a much-erased and often-edited timeline. "What's that?"

I spread my hands in a 'Ta dah!' gesture, and said, "This is the 'bible' I've been building for our story. This is how we keep things organized and avoid plot holes as we're writing."

"Hmm. Why didn't we use one for Bumping Boots?"

I laughed. "That book started out as just a pleasant exercise to see if we could actually collaborate together. We just had fun pulling stuff out of our ass and sharing crazy ideas."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, that was pretty wonderful. That was the first time I got a glimpse inside the brain of another writer. It turned out to be pretty damn beautiful. It was also when I started to fall in love with you."

I leaned across the table to give him a lengthy and smoldering kiss. "Whew! Now where was I?"

Looking a tad dazed, he said, "Uhh... I forgot. Oh! Something about organizing our writing...?"

"Oh, yeah. Anyway, that was a great example of what some writing teachers call "pantsing" -- writing by the seat of your pants, and just seeing what happens."

Harry smirked. "Yep, it was great -- especially when it got me into the seat of your pants."

"Yeah, I enjoyed that part too."

We smirked at each other for a moment, and then I pulled myself together. "Ahem! So that's the pantsers, as opposed to the 'plotters', who plot out the entire story in an outline before they write it."

"Is that how you want to write our new book?"

"Actually, I'd prefer to do it a third way and be a 'plantser' -- a mix of both styles."

"Ah, so we plot out the list of scenes into your bible as a framework, and then become rogue pantsers to flesh out each of the scenes?"

"That's pretty much it."

Harry thought for a moment, and said, "Okay. Got it. I've got an idea..."

He clicked away on his laptop for about 20 minutes and then asked to borrow my bible. He then typed away for another hour, entering in data from the bible, with occasional queries for clarification. At last, he stood up, and ran a cable from his laptop to the giant LED TV in the WOW.

He sat back down and said, "Voilà! Behold, our new digital bible!"

He had entered every character, scene, date, time, plot point, and many other details into his new timeline software. He flipped through various different views of the data, showing a spreadsheet view and a master timeline view. My favorite view was the "subway" view, in which each scene was a subway station, and connecting lines showed the flow of characters among the different stops. Wow! Writing tips are definitely a two-way street!

I liked his digital bible so much that we hooked it to his iPad and kept the timeline up on the big screen. We referred to it frequently while we were writing on our own laptops.

===

Fort Wayne to Davenport

PORTIA

I felt bad for the fine folks of Fort Wayne. Between the amazing time we had in Nashville, and the impending uncertainty of our next stop, those poor Fort Wayners didn't get our best effort. Well, one Hoosier Honey did get to enjoy the excitement of what had become a regular feature of our tour stops - Harry's wedding ring loop. We had Fliss point out whoever was first in line at the event, and she became the lucky recipient of some ropin' romance.

She giggled and blushed, but still managed to rub herself all over my embarrassed hubby, who took it like a trooper. How he suffered for our art. Hah.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that you know you're starting to get tour fatigue when all of the book signings start to blur together. This is not meant to diss any of the folks we met at the Fort Wayne bookstore -- they were all perfectly lovely. It was probably just a sign that it was time for us to stop and smell the roses again. That's why I both looked forward to and dreaded our stop in the Quad City of Davenport. If you haven't been there before, it lies just across the Mississippi River from Rock Island, Illinois. Home of the Fleeglemans and their hardware store.

I love the Fleeglemans dearly. Barney is like the shy, older, hardware-obsessed brother that I never had. The only thing he loves more than hardware is Doris, who is a Force of Nature hidden inside a midwestern, middle-aged mom body. She is shorter than me, but somehow, I feel like I'm always looking up at her. I've never met anyone with the sexual intensity or libido that she possesses. Fortunately for the rest of our species, she is monomaniacally monogamous, and visits her appetites solely upon Barney, the center of her universe. Barney is too shy to say it out loud, but it's pretty clear that he considers himself one lucky bastard as well.

Barney loves hardware so much that he is happy to share this love with anyone who pushes the right button. We learned quickly that it's a pretty big button and lies very close to the surface. Any incautious bump will initiate a core dump on the topic.

Having said that, there is one part of their store that Barney is too shy to say much about -- the part that his wife has turned into The Love Forest by Doris. Doris had brought a few select items from there to my bachelorette party. Based on that small sample, I feared what a whole goddamn forest of FuckerWare would look like. Be afraid, Portia! Be very afraid!

I decided to share my concerns with Harry. "Hey, babe?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you nervous about seeing Barney and Doris again?"

"Um, yeah -- a little. It occurs to me that we're doing a reverse Macbeth with them."

"What the heck does that mean?"

"Well... in the play, Macbeth has a vision that he 'shall never vanquish'd be, until Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill shall come against him.'"

"Okaaay..." Sometimes my boo can be a bit obscure. I mean, what the hell? Where does he come up with this stuff? I was the English major, right?

"So it's like we're Macbeth, and we're heading toward the Love Forest to meet our doom in Rock Island."

"Golly, you really know how to cheer a girl up."

===

FLISS

Harry and Portia often did things that puzzle me, but they were mostly cheerful and upbeat. However, they seemed just a bit on edge during the drive to Davenport. I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, but it didn't make much sense. All I could make out were words like "doom", and "Dunsinane", and "Doris". What the fuck was that about?

I was starting to really care for them, and that scared me. But sometimes they were just fucking weird. The closer we got to Davenport, the weirder they got. Harry was mostly outwardly calm, but by the time we pulled into the parking lot of the bookstore, Portia was twitching occasionally. Harry was very sweet. He took her in his arms, and held her, rubbing her shoulders and kissing her head now and then. He didn't say a word, but I could feel the comfort he radiated from across the room. Gosh, I'd like to have someone comfort me like that some day.

After a few minutes, Portia sighed and her whole body relaxed. She looked up into Harry's eyes, gave him a slow nod, and then gave him a soft kiss. I would normally gag at such a PDA, but it was too genuine and too touching. I was slightly alarmed to feel a part of me yearning to have that same kind of affection aimed my way. Fuck! I'm starting to act like a character in one of their goddamn romances. I shuddered and went into the bookstore.

===

HARRY

Doris and Barney Fleegleman came to the bookstore early. We hugged both of them and introduced them to Fliss, who was polite, but reverted to her default 'stranger danger' mode. We told them a few tales of life on the road, and Doris reminisced about our time at the dude ranch.

The Fleeglemans sat in the front row for our performance. I did a few simple rope tricks, and then asked for a volunteer for my wedding ring rope trick. Doris teleported herself to my side before anyone else could raise their hand.

Unlike previous audience members along the tour, she did not try to hump my leg. However, as I twirled the loop, she rotated her hips in synchrony with it, as if it were a large Hula-Hoop. She also aimed a very subtle pelvic thrust toward Barney on each revolution of the rope. Barney couldn't take his eyes off her.

I ended the trick by letting the loop drop at our feet. Without missing a beat, I took Doris's right hand in my left, twirled her around one turn as if she were my lariat, and then pulled her down into a deep, tango dip. She hammed it up and kicked her front leg high into the air. I winked at her, and then set her back on her feet.

The crowd gave Doris a big hand, but before she walked back to her seat, she pulled my head down and gave me a big smackeroo on my cheek. The audience cheered heartily at this -- especially Barney.

The reading went well, but was a bit less boisterous. We signed books until our hands started to cramp. Then Doris and Barney led us across the river to park our rig at their house in Rock Island.

After showing us around their home, the girls clustered in the kitchen while I joined Barney out back, where he fired up the grill.

A few steaks later, and after some delicious sides and a surprisingly good rhubarb pie that Doris prepared, we were all rubbing our bloated bellies with satisfaction.

I couldn't resist teasing my honey. "I hope you took notes, babe. Did Doris share any recipes?" Then I leaned out of the way as she tried to smack me. Fortunately, she was in the early stages of a food coma, and couldn't give it her best effort.

After a bit more conversation, we said goodnight to the Fleeglemans, and went into the rig to get ready for bed. Fliss gave us a quizzical look, and asked, "They seem nice! A little weird, but nice. Why were you guys dreading this stop so much?"

Portia sighed. "After breakfast, they're taking us to their hardware store."

Fliss quirked her lips. "So?"

Portia looked to me for help. I said, "Doris and Barney are each obsessed by hardware in their own way, and it's hard to explain. Do you mind if we wait and just show you tomorrow?"

"Whatevs."

We went to bed, and somehow eventually got to sleep.

===

PORTIA

Doris fixed a hearty breakfast. Barney made himself a quick plate, kissed Doris, and then drove off to open the store. Harry and Fliss each tucked in -- as Harry might put it -- "like a man-eatin' bar hog". I could only stomach a few pieces of toast.

The moment of truth arrived, and Doris piled us into her SUV and carried us on to our doom.

I know that I'm sniveling like a whiny baby about this. Doris is a very dear person, and I know she wouldn't do anything to physically hurt me. I don't know if you can actually die from embarrassment -- the CDC has not yet weighed in on that -- but if I ever do perish from such a perturbation, Betty and Doris will be the most likely suspects.

When we arrived, I took Fliss by the hand before going inside. "Sweetie, I just want to apologize in advance, okay? Doris means well, but..." and I sighed. "Try not to be too shocked. I know I'm gonna try. And I'll probably fail."

The front door was a portal into another dimension. At least it felt that way. What seemed like a small storefront outside seemed to go back quite a ways inside. I craned my neck looking around, trying to estimate the size of the place.

Doris said, "Great, isn't it? We started with this little store, and then expanded into the store next door. Then the next store. It took twenty years, but we ended up owning the whole darned block."

Barney greeted us a moment later, kissed Doris, and said, "Good morning again, dumpling!" The dumpling dimpled and extended the kiss for a few more seconds.

Barney led us over to the front counter and introduced us to Marge and Ethel -- two lovely women in their fifties. As Doris had previously remarked to us when we first met, Marge was quite well-endowed, and Ethel, less well so. Marge's impressive décolletage made me flash back to the confusing 'racks of servers' conversation we had at the dude ranch. I greatly preferred Marge's rack to those at work. Both women were very sweet.

Barney looked at us hopefully. "Everybody ready for a tour of the tool section?"

Harry said, "I can't tell you how much I've looked forward to this." Somehow, he said that with a straight face. Barney beamed.

Doris took my arm in hers and began to lead me away. "You men run along, hon. I'll take Portia and Fliss over to the Forest."

I slipped out of her grasp, and said, "Let me give my sweet pea a hug before we go."

I pulled Harry up against me and whispered, "You rat bastard -- you're throwing me under the bus?"

Harry whispered back, "We're both taking one for the team, babe. Want to trade places?"

I took a moment to imagine myself spending the next several hours with Barney as he shared his vast mental Rolodex of tool tidbits. My brain blanched at the thought. "Err, no thanks, sweetie. I'll go with Doris."

===

The Love Forest was an exotic diverticulum off of the main store. My jaw actually dropped at the profusion of paraphernalia about me. I now knew how a space alien might feel if it were air-dropped into the middle of a ferret-legging convention.

It was clear that Doris was very proud of her store-within-the-store. There was quite an assortment of goods, thoughtfully arranged and artfully displayed.

In the clothing section, we passed racks of items to accentuate the rack: bras, bustiers, and basques. My eyes went round as I examined something called a guêpière. Oh, my. I imagined Harry's face seeing me in something like that, and I felt my face getting warm.

Then we saw shelves of panties. The variety was astounding. Boy shorts, bikinis, tangas, thongs, high-cut, low-cut, and everything in between. Fliss held up a triangle of silk the size of a postage stamp with some dental floss attached, and quirked an eyebrow at me. "Something for Harry's wish list?"

She chuckled as I mimed sticking my finger down my throat.

The men's section wasn't quite as extensive; lingerie being more of a thing for women. However, there was quite an assortment of junk for the junk, ranging from banana hammocks to boxer-briefs.

But, dare I say, the hardware? Pun definitely intended. To name just a few, there were vibrators and dildos of every imaginable size and color. Cock rings of seemingly endless varieties, and attachments. Yes, attachments. Marital aids of every sort. We saw battery operated boyfriends and girlfriends. Fliss picked one up and then put it back down again -- quickly.

"What the fuck, Portia?" she whispered.

"Precisely," Doris replied, having overheard.

As we followed our Brownian path through the goods, Doris quizzed me about Harry's and my latest collaboration. I told her enough to intrigue her, without giving out any spoilers.

She said, "Well, anytime you two get writer's block in one of your romances, I'll bet you dollars to dildos that something on our shelves will goose that plot right along."

I had no doubt that if I were a cancer researcher having trouble with a treatment protocol, she would have given me the same advice. There's an old saying that when you're a hammer, everything looks like a nail. The same adage probably applies to sex shop owners. I mentally shivered.

My mind lurched as we walked by a whole aisle labeled "Dilators". Without going too deeply into TMI-ville, no object was too large -- no orifice too small. Certainly, none of the bodily orifices that I knew of had been neglected, and even a few custom orifices were well-represented. To my eternal regret.

I kept my eye on Fliss, to make sure she wasn't freaking out. Au contraire -- she looked maybe a little wide-eyed, but otherwise seemed to be bearing up just fine. But the girl had hidden depths, and I had no idea what thoughts thrummed behind her calm exterior. I could tell that the lights were definitely on inside and the occupant was paying careful attention to everything we encountered.

===

FLISS

Holy crap.

I had always thought that I was the world's biggest weirdo, living way out on the farthest point in the spectrum of life. I thought that I was so extreme, that I could look over the edge of life and actually see the abyss yawning below.

I now saw that as the delusion of a child. For the first time since I was six, I didn't feel like the heel on the loaf of life, standing out on the periphery and looking in on all of the happy "normal" slices. I could now see endless variations on oddness extending out in all directions from me. What a strange sensation, feeling normal. Well, almost.

Coming into Doris's sex shop reminded me of my first funeral -- dreading it going in and feeling calm and peaceful coming out. This place was a celebration of life! It was weird to feel the same sense of peace about life that I had always felt about death. What a foreign concept! That being said, there was way too much stuff here to comprehend in one visit.

It wasn't like I was a complete noob to sex toys. I was no virgin. I wasn't a slut, either, but I did spend a normal amount of my college experience on my sexual due diligence. I had sampled sex with several people. I had pitched and batted for several sides, searching for but never finding my side, my people, or my tribe. Most of my experiences were pleasant, but bland. It soothed a certain mild urge, but it didn't satisfy or nourish. It definitely didn't transport me.

I certainly never found anyone that I wanted to spend all my spare time with, much less the rest of my life. Heck, I didn't even have any friends. Every acquaintance I had from college had drifted away.

Even Brad from the museum, who I used to occasionally eat lunch with. He was even more introverted than I was, but he was easy to talk to -- or talk at, I should say. He didn't say much. But after I got 'downsized' at work, that was the end of that.

At least until I met Portia and Harry. Their calm acceptance of me and my quirks was an epiphany. At first, their devotion to each other seemed cloying and fake. But after spending nearly a month on the road with them in the WOW, it was now pretty clear that it was anything but. It was profound.

===

HARRY

I was dreading this moment. Barney is a great guy, but has always seemed rather singularly focused when it came to hardware. I was expecting to hear a core dump of every screw, bolt, nut and fastener in the building.

But Barney surprised me and said, "You and Portia are doing a Great Thing." I could hear the capital letters.

"Uh... Thanks?" I paused to try and figure out what that thing could be. "Which specific great thing were you thinking of?"

"Fliss."

He could see my confusion, and explained. "She doesn't smile much and trusts less. But she worships you two. She's like a cat that has lived in the woods for so long and hasn't been loved for so long that she's gone feral, hiding in a deep dark hole. Except around you two. You guys are the light at the cave mouth for her. Because of you, she's on her way back."

'Stunned' doesn't touch it. I had never heard this many words coming out of Barney's mouth that weren't hardware related. Now that we were away from the glare of the larger-than-life presence that is Doris, I could see details in his personality and speech that were not apparent to me before.

I said, "Thanks, Barney. I'm not sure that we deserve that much credit. But I appreciate your insights, and they jibe with mine. It's not easy to get through the walls Fliss puts up around herself. So we just let her know that we cared, and we were there, and let her start to break them down herself. Now, after nearly a month together, Portia and I feel really close to her. There's not much that we wouldn't do for her."

He nodded. "I can see that. And even more importantly, I think that she can see it too. Well done." He gripped my shoulder and gave it a squeeze, as we shared a moment.

"Now, what do you want to do for the next few hours? It may be that long before Doris is done playing catch and release with them over in the Love Forest." He peered at me a bit more closely. "You don't seriously want to hear me talk about hardware the whole time, do you?"

I blinked. "Uh... You'll have to excuse me, but you sound a lot different than the Barney we've gotten to know over the past few months."

He laughed. "Well, you've seen Doris. When she's on a tear, she can suck most of the oxygen out of the room. But I love her, so I cut her a lot of slack. I let her run in full-tilt Doris-mode until she runs out of steam. That's worked well for us for years. So, I usually play along and cosplay a caricature that makes her happy."

I took a moment to digest all of that.

Barney said, "However, I think we know each other well enough that I can be myself with you. Do you mind?"

"Of course not." I put out my hand and smiled. "Pleased to meet you, Barney."

He beamed, and shook my hand. "Happy wife, happy life. And... she makes the same allowances for me."

He paused for just a moment, before adding, "Seeing you two almost reminds me of when Doris and I first started out, actually. It's been great hearing about your adventures on this tour. It's clear that those experiences have taught you both a lot more about each other."

"Thanks, Barney. It's been quite a ride, in every sense of the word."

Barney did give me a cursory tour of the store, but couched it as a metaphor for his growing relationship with Doris over the years. Their hard work, love, and character growth were reflected throughout the store -- especially in the way they and their employees interacted.

We did finally talk about actual hardware. I gave Barney a tour of the Great and Powerful WOW, and he very quickly identified several minor nuisances that had bugged us throughout the tour. He went and grabbed a cordless screwdriver and a small bag of assorted items from the store. Minutes later, multiple pain points had been erased. I tried to give him a small bag of cash, but he waved me off. "Maybe Doris and I could borrow the WOW the next time we're down in Texas?"

"I'll get Betty right on it." We high-fived.

===

We ended up spending most of the day at the store. After gently torturing Portia and Fliss with the vast panoply of pleasure on display in the Love Forest, Doris finally relented. All three women joined me and Barney in the Wondrous WOW for a takeout lunch.

Portia and Fliss gave Doris the grand tour after lunch. She immediately spotted all of Barney's upgrades, and then suggested a dozen more of her own. She took both women back into the store for 30 minutes, and returned with several bags of items that were quickly deployed. Like Barney, she waved off any payment from us, and was quite content with a promissory note for future WOW-glamping in Texas.

===

Even Fliss seemed a bit misty when we left Rock Island the next morning. Barney and Doris fed us another mighty breakfast and gave Portia and me fierce hugs.

Doris took both of Fliss's hands in hers. "You, dear girl, are welcome back here any time. Any time."

Fliss surprised all of us by pulling first Doris, and then Barney in for quick hugs. Then she quickly walked to the WOW and got in the driver's seat, staring straight ahead.

Barney smiled at us and said, "Great Things!"

And then we were off.

===

Davenport to Omaha

PORTIA

Omaha, I'm afraid, suffered the same fate as Fort Wayne. Lovely people and a great audience, but we were... distracted.

By now, we had fine-tuned our book reading so that the audience was engaged and entertained, but no one spontaneously broke out in orgasms. Harry had gradually incorporated me into some of his rope tricks, and had me jumping in and out of his loops like a buckle bunny. When Harry was in cowboy mode, well... Hippity hop, baby.

But we were still recovering from our visit with the Fleeglemans, and our final destination was looming over me like a rotund wrecking ball. Yes, Betty had insisted that we return to Fargo, and I just knew that I had not seen the last of... Mort.

===

Omaha to Fargo

HARRY

So, we're finally back to where I started the whole story, with Portia's pointy elbow digging into my bruised rib cage.

Portia and I were on our final foray through Fargo at the end of our first book tour together. I had just signed a book for a very nice lady, when Portia jabbed me and whispered a single panicked word:

"Mort!"

Portia had briefed me on her previous abortive book tour here last winter, during a blizzard braved only by a single soul -- Mort the Mouth-Breather. Mort, who made eye contact only with her breasts. Mort, who unnerved her with his inappropriate facial affect. Mort, who made her never want to return to the Dakotas, much less Fargo, ever again.

From her description, I expected to see a huge, human bowling ball. The man that approached us now was obese, but not morbidly so. He was a few inches shorter than I, and had pink, puffy cheeks. He wheezed his way toward our table, clutching a book in his hand. I couldn't tell if it was ours, or one of Portia's.

He didn't look all that threatening to me, but Portia gripped the table edge, white knuckled, and looked like she was about to bolt for the nearest exit. The last time I saw her eyes this wide was during a close encounter with a large venomous reptile in Texas.

I looked around to signal Fliss to intervene, but she had taken a bathroom break. I knew I had to do something, but had no clear plan in mind -- I just figured that Portia could use a bit of space. So, I stood up and scooted over the tabletop in a poor man's version of the classic Starsky and Hutch hood slide. I landed just in front of him. "Hey, you must be Mort, right?"

He looked at me blankly, as if seeing me for the first time. Which he was. "Huh?"

I pumped his hand enthusiastically. "I'm Harry, Portia's husband, and occasional co-writer. She's told me so much about you."

"She has?" His pink cheeks got pinker.

"Yep, she told me that you were the only fan brave enough to trek through the blizzard and come to her book signing here last winter."

"Oh. Yeah. It really snowed a lot that day."

"Look, Portia has a few more books to sign for the store. Come over here and chat with me while she gets that done." I steered him over to one end of a couch a few feet away, and I sat down on the other end.

"But-but-but..." he stuttered, holding out his book with both hands.

"Oh, no worries, I'm sure she'll want a chance to catch up. I promise, she'll sign it for you."

"O-okay," he wheezed.

As he sat down, I glanced over at Portia, who mouthed, "Thank you!"

I winked at her and turned back to Mort. "So, how many of Portia's books have you read?"

"All of them."

"Wow, a true fan! Which one was your favorite?"

"They're all great, but Prescription for Passion is my favorite."

"Interesting! What did you like about that one?"

"Umm, one of the characters had an elusive endocrine problem, and the beautiful doctor in the book finally made the diagnosis. I really identified with him. Portia's book changed my life."

Portia had been listening to us as she signed her books, but paused when she heard this. Fliss had returned from her break, and was also watching us closely. No doubt preparing to apply some kung fu, if he blinked the wrong way.

Surreptitiously waving her off, I said, "Really! Why's that?"

"Because I had the same problem as the guy in her book."

"Omigosh. I'm so sorry."

"I have really bad asthma. You can probably tell from my wheezing."

"Umm... Now that you mention it, yes, a little." And Noah's Flood was caused by a little rain.

"My doctor gave me a steroid inhaler that really helped the asthma. But she didn't realize that it could interact with the antidepressants I was taking. I started gaining a lot of weight and began to feel weak all the time."

"That's awful!"

He nodded. "The last time Portia was in town, I was a real zombie from all the meds I was on. It caused me to lose my job and forced me to move into my mom's basement. I had just enough energy to watch TV and read, but not much else. I read most of her books, but like I said, I loved Prescription. As I was reading it, I realized that the character in the book sounded a lot like me. So, I asked my doctor if I might have Cushing's syndrome. She was dubious, but ran some tests.

"I dragged myself to your last book event here, but was too zonked out to convey how I loved your books, and what they meant to me."

Portia was now staring at Mort with glistening eyes and with her hands over her mouth.

Mort said, "Dr. Johnson was amazed when my tests showed that I did indeed have Cushing's syndrome. She switched me to a non-steroid inhaler and adjusted my antidepressants. Since then, I've lost a lot of weight, and my brain feels like it's coming out of the fog."

Portia wept openly. Fliss's eyes were shining, and I got a bit misty myself.

Mort turned to Portia and said, "I came back here today to say thank you. Your book saved my life."

That pushed Portia over the edge, and I wasn't far behind. I walked over and pulled her to her feet and embraced her as she blubbered.

Mort was astonished. "What's wrong? I didn't mean to upset you!"

Portia released me and ran over to put her arms around Mort, where she sobbed on his shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry! I just thought you were a crazy stalker the last time I was here. I told Harry about you and even made fun of you. I'm such a jerk!"

I felt like an asshole myself. Mort just hugged her, patted her on the back and said, "It's okay. It's okay. I forgive you. I was such a mess back then that I must have creeped a lot of people out."

By now Phyllis, the bookstore owner, had come over, and wondered why everyone was so upset. The waterworks started all over again when we filled her in.

Once everyone calmed down, Portia insisted on treating Mort and Phyllis to dinner at the best steakhouse in Fargo.

===

PORTIA

Fliss begged off from the restaurant, saying that she needed some "me" time. We admonished her playfully about not taking candy from strangers, but seriously, to please be careful.

She rolled her eyes, gave me a, "I promise, Mom," and she ambled off.

I turned to Harry. "Our little girl is growing up!" I teased. But then I thought aloud, "Is it just me or has she gotten taller?"

He gave me a soft smile, then cut his eyes toward Fliss, angling them downward. I followed his gaze, and saw that she was wearing the boots we'd gotten her in Nashville.

"Hasn't worn anything else since we got 'em," he told me. "Her Doc Martens are gathering dust in some corner."

===

After our dinner with Mort and Phyllis, we made our way back to the RV. Harry stopped short as he opened the door, and I nearly bumped into him.

"Uhh, hi," I heard him say, and then he slowly entered. I followed, wondering what had caused his surprise, when I heard a distinct North Dakotan voice say, "Oh, hello! I'm Agnes."

As I came in behind Harry, I saw a sturdy woman with a thick blond braid hanging halfway down her back. She had bright blue eyes and seemed to be about Fliss's age. She was shaking hands with Harry and smiling.

"Harry," said Harry. "And this is my wife, Portia. Nice to meet you?" he finished with a questioning look at Fliss.

I also offered my hand to the young woman as Fliss said, "Yeah, I met her at the cemetery."

Harry laughed out loud. "Of course you did. Where else?"

She stuck out her tongue at him. "Agnes was visiting her grandparents' graves, and I was looking at the headstones. There are some really fascinating ones there. Anyway, we got to talking, and... well, long story short, she's gonna ride back to Houston with me in the RV."

I glanced at Harry. He back glanced at me. Fliss glanced at both of us. Agnes just smiled.

"Well..." I began.

"We were a bit worried about you driving back alone..." Harry continued. He and I were flying back, but the RV still needed to get home to Fliss's parents in Houston.

"Don't worry," Fliss said, "I totally asked her if she was a serial killer."

Looking as innocent as a newborn lamb, Agnes shook her head 'no' and drew a little 'x' over her heart with one finger.

"See?" Fliss said with a 'so there' expression.

Harry and I both looked at each other, then turned back to the girls.

"Welcome aboard, I reckon," Harry said.

===

HARRY

When we turned in that night, Portia said, "I know we need to talk about the elephant in the room. But first, I wanted to tell you that I can't get over the way you dealt with Mort today. How did you know that that was the right way to handle him?"

"I didn't, really. All I could see was how upset you were. Tackling him or roping him seemed a little over the top. And letting Fliss put him in a sleeper hold seemed premature. Sooo... my secret Jedi plan was just to deflect him for a few minutes and give you some space."

"Well, Obi-Wan McMurtry, powerful your words were." She gave me a mischievous look and said, "Maybe we should call our next book..." She paused for dramatic effect. "'The Mort Whisperer'! Or should that be 'Darth Mort'?"

I pulled her on top of me in bed and gently swatted her bottom several times. "Naughty Portia! No! More! Whispering! Books!"

She giggled and bit my earlobe gently, and then breathed, "Whisper! Whisper! Whisper!"

I paddled her butt a few more times, and we snuggled happily.

A bit more soberly, Portia asked, "So, what do you think about Agnes? Awfully uncharacteristic of Fliss to latch onto someone like that."

I kissed her, and said, "You've been a good influence on Fliss." I thought for a bit, then said, "I guess my only concern is why -- why Agnes wants to get out of Fargo. I mean, it kinda sounds like a spur of the moment decision."

"Well, maybe. But on the other hand, maybe she has had reasons for wanting to leave for a while, but didn't quite know how to do that. Then this opportunity fell in her lap. Either way, Fliss is an adult. We need to let her make her own decisions."

I rolled over on top of her. Gazing down at her, I whispered, "You're gonna be a great mom someday. Her eyes filled with tears, and she tried to stick her tongue down my throat. We both lost all power of coherent speech.

Before long, our clothes had vanished, and we were making tender love with each other. We tried to keep it quiet, and hopefully we didn't traumatize the girls overly, but hey, that's why God invented noise-cancelling ear buds.

===

Fargo to Austin

HARRY

Fliss and Agnes dropped us off at the airport just outside of town. Portia gave Fliss a big hug and kissed her cheek. I did the same, and said, "Have a safe trip back to Texas, cowgirl. Make good choices!"

She laughed, until I added, "...and we love you."

Fliss sniffled and clutched me tightly, whispering, "I love you guys too."

We shook hands with Agnes, whose eyes were suspiciously bright, and wished her well.

We left town with much happier hearts than when we first arrived, and held hands on the plane back to Austin. After takeoff, Portia leaned her head on my shoulder and said, "Goddamned Betty."

I raised my eyebrows. "What did she do this time?"

Portia said, "I've whinged for years about book tours. I whine about how tedious and unnecessary they are. I bitch and moan about how I could use that time to write more books instead of just signing them." She looked glum. "Once she hears the details about this tour, she'll be absolutely insufferable. She'll never let us stop."

I kissed the top of her head. "I know, sweetie. Life on the road can be a pain. But... if you somehow got a do-over, would you really want to give up the memory of how you changed Mort's life... and how he changed yours?"

She wrinkled her nose at me, and then sighed. "Damn it. You're right. I wouldn't trade anything for that memory, or any of the others. Especially our time with Fliss."

"Yes. Especially Fliss."

===

Betty had thoughtfully provided a car and driver, who awaited us at the airport. I had always wanted to come off a plane to see someone holding a sign with my name on it!

We relaxed in the back seat as we were whisked away from Austin-Bergstrom on our interminable 15-minute drive to my -- well, now it was our place in East Oak Hill.

Shoot, I didn't even need to tip the guy. "Already taken care of, sir," he said while touching the bill of his cap. As he pulled away, Portia and I staggered through the door.

"Shower!" she moaned. "Airplanes always feel like gigantic, flying Petri dishes to me."

"Need me to help with those hard-to-reach places?" I asked with a suggestive leer.

She giggled, and replied, "Always."

Much later, and after the shock of cold water on sensitive parts, I decided that the first order of business tomorrow would be to start looking into a bigger hot water heater. Ooh, one of those tankless things -- they never run out!

===

PORTIA

Harry was so conscientious about making sure we were squeaky clean. Especially me. Of course that led to some other activities, and afterward, we fell into bed and slept the sleep of the... really tired.

Harry had to go into the office; after all, we'd been away for over a month. I played hooky. It was funny, I had six published novels of my own, and now it felt odd to write without Harry. Plus, we were so close to finishing the first draft of Spur that it felt wrong to work on it alone.

I did have my seventh solo book in draft, and I pecked away half-heartedly at it for a while, spoke to Betty a little bit about the tour, and arranged a meeting to go over everything.

To be honest, I wasn't feeling 100%. Damn airplanes... I decided to take a nap.

I awoke, bleary-eyed, to see a concerned Harry sitting on the side of the bed with the back of his hand on my forehead.

"Hey, babe. You feeling okay?"

"Hmm," I blinked sleepily. "Hi, sweetie. What time is it?"

"About half past five."

"Oh, crap! I just meant to lie down for a quick nap! Sorry!"

"All good. You okay?" he repeated.

I took mental stock. "Yeah, fine. That little snooze did the trick. How was work?"

"Oh, fine... Margaret was more worried about ARGH and her cameo than my project," he laughed. "Hungry?" he asked over his shoulder, as he got up and headed for the kitchen. "I got Franklinnnn's..." he sang.

I about knocked him down on my way to the food. As I was stuffing my face with Franklin's finest, I mumbled, "How did you manage to score this on a workday?"

He chuckled. "Don't talk with your mouth full," I flipped him off with a sauce-coated finger, and he laughed louder.

"Margaret couldn't meet until the afternoon, so I took my laptop, a folding camp chair, and some drinks, and staked out a spot in line first thing. It took a while, but once I finally made it through the line, I grabbed our loot, took it back to work, and stashed it in the fridge with an armed guard watching it 'til it was time to come home."

Braving the long line at Franklin's for one's sweetie is tantamount to foreplay in Austin, and I was starting to get a little revved up. I wiped barbecue sauce off my cheek and dialed my smile up to smolder -- at least as much as I could smolder with brisket stuck between my teeth. "Better hurry up and eat, coz you're gettin' lucky pretty soon, mister!"

Harry chewed faster.

===

A couple of days later, we met with Betty. Fortunately, she had set up several meetings in Austin, so we didn't have to make the drive to her home office in Houston.

Despite innumerable phone calls, FaceChats, and SnapTimes during the tour, Betty wanted to hear all the details in person. We focused mostly on what worked well and also what didn't work -- I seemed to learn something new on every tour. She tried not to look too smug when we mentioned how the WOW had spoiled us for conventional travel.

Betty said, "So Fliss didn't drive y'all crazy on the trip?"

I shook my head. "Not even a little! She was wonderful."

Harry nodded. "Yep, we're even thinking about adopting her."

Betty's face lit up with a lovely smile, absent all of her usual trademark snark. "That's a story I'm going to have to hear, but another time. Now, how are your two book projects coming along?"

Harry told her, "We're still using Spur of the Moment as the working title for our collaboration, and it's about this close to a completed first draft." He held his fingers about an inch apart. "Do you want to see it first? Or should we send it straight to Eunice?"

Eunice Grimsby was my long-time editor, and Betty had her working on our collaborations now as well. She was... challenging to work with, and wielded a ruthless red pen. But she was an excellent editor, and well worth all the pain and suffering she caused us.

"Run it by me, and I'll send it along," she said. "You know me, I like to keep my hand in."

"You got it," Harry said, affable as ever.

Betty turned to me. "How's The Snake Whisperer coming? You know you're gonna hafta change that; it's an awful double-entendre dick joke, you know."

I said, "Yeah, that was a poor choice in retrospect," I said, turning pink. "I was just referring to the way Harry calmed down that huge snake during our dude ranch trip. We'll figure out another title, though. That book has enough innuendos as it is."

"Not to mention all the outuendos," said Harry.

Betty and I glared at him.

I stopped, hoping she'd forgotten her question. No such luck, not with Betty. "And the book itself? Making progress?"

I sighed. "Well... if you define progress as more words than the last time you asked, then yes. There's been progress. But please don't ask me how many words."

"Oh, Portia..." Betty sighed.

"I know, I know... it's just so much more fun now that I have Harry to write with! Writing on my own is kinda meh right now." Then something occurred to me.

Cutting my eyes at Harry, I said, "But don't worry, Betty... it won't be long before the morning dew fades from the pumpkin, and we'll be back to writing in separate beds. We'll put the collaboration on hold, and I'll get back to my solo projects."

Betty gaped at me in horror, but Harry burst out laughing. I knew he'd remember the mangled metaphors of our "Happily Ever After" conversation.

We explained it to her, and she sucked in a relieved breath. It was nice to get some sweet payback once in a while.

Harry said, "Don't worry, Betty. As soon as we're finished with Spur, I promise to help keep her focused on my snake. Err... her Snake. Um... snake book."

I blushed and Betty guffawed.

===

We had been back in Austin for a week or so when I heard the clarion call of "La Cucaracha" blaring outside our house. That goddamn tune had never sounded so good! My face broke into a huge smile, and I ran outside.

Fliss stood in contrapposto outside the WOW, wearing her usual black T with a skull. I was surprised to see that the current version was a Dia de los Muertos sugar skull, in bright pink, green, and purple. I had never seen Fliss in anything but black, white, or gray, and this... well, it was still within her typical death motif, but the fact that she was wearing colors might really mean something.

Her black cowboy boots and a knee-length black skirt completed her ensemble. Her grin matched my own. I bounded down the walk and grabbed her in a huge hug as Agnes came down the steps behind her and shut the door to our erstwhile home on wheels.

I walked past Fliss and pulled a surprised Agnes into a hug of her own. As I stepped back, I noticed that she was wearing a white cotton blouse, short denim skirt, and new red cowboy boots.

"Nice boots!" I said.

Agnes smiled. "We stopped in Dallas on the way down. Fliss insisted that I get these."

I looked back at Fliss, who seemed to have just a slight hint of color in her cheeks.

I said, "Well, y'all come on in and relax. Harry should be home shortly. Then we'll go get something to eat. How does Tex-Mex sound?"

===

Harry arrived about 30 minutes later. He immediately seized Fliss in a hug that lifted her off the ground. He spun her around and gave her a kiss on the cheek, and she actually squealed. He put her down and stepped back. "I missed you, sweetie! Have a good drive down?"

Fliss seemed slightly breathless, and just nodded.

Harry turned to Agnes. "An invasion of cowgirls! Good to see you!" He gave her a slightly less demonstrative hug, which she received with equanimity.

I said, "I thought we might take these two hungry cowgirls out to Taco Deli."

"Great idea! Agnes, have you ever had real Tex-Mex?"

She shook her head. "We have a few Mexican restaurants in Fargo, but I'm hardly a good judge. I've never been south of Minneapolis."

"Well, you're in for a treat -- let's go!"

We hopped into Harry's quad cab pickup and were soon sitting outside at a wooden table under a large live oak tree, munching our way through a tray of tasty tacos.

The girls gave us a brief recap of their trip south, which apparently included a stop in Rock Island with Barney and Doris. Fliss didn't say much about it. Agnes merely raised one eyebrow, and said, "It was eye-opening."

Fliss said, "Agnes helped me with the driving."

Agnes said, "After driving farm machinery for years, the WOW was a piece of cake."

===

When we got back home, I said, "The guest bedroom is all made up. It's a queen, though; shall I make up the couch too?"

Fliss and Agnes exchanged a glance, and then shook their heads. Fliss said, "Nope, the guest bedroom is fine."

Harry didn't even blink -- he just smiled with his eyes, and said, 'What are y'all up to next?"

Fliss said, "We thought we'd head for Houston in the morning, get the WOW detailed, and then hand it back over to Phil and Shirley."

"Who?"

"My parents."

"Ah." Of course she called them by their first names.

"Then I need to run over to Betty's office. She owes me a month's pay for hauling you two around." She paused, then smirked. "I may put in for hazardous duty."

I said, "I hope it wasn't too much of a hardship. I'm not sure if I want to go back on tour unless you're driving us."

Fliss's face squinched for a moment, as if she were about to cry, but then it passed. "I'll mention that to Betty tomorrow."

After a good night's sleep and a few breakfast burritos (and more hugs), Fliss and Agnes -- with one last blare of La Kook on that infernal horn -- headed east for Houston in the Wonderful World of WOW.

After they left, Harry said, "Damn, I already miss them. This place sure feels empty without those two around."

"You big softie..." I sighed. "I agree; I feel like an empty nester, and we don't even have kids!"

He chuckled. "Did you mean what you said about 'No Fliss, No Tour'?"

"Yeah, I did. I suppose I should have asked you first. What do you think?"

"Nope, that's fine. You know exactly how I feel about that girl. I'm with you on the 'No Fliss, No Tour' tour. Think Betty will go along with it?"

"We won't give her any other option!"

===

Slowly, our life returned to normal. We made steady progress on Spur of the Moment. Toward the end of our first collaboration on Bumping Boots, we had pasted up pages of paper all over the house. That worked out so well that we did it all over again in the final stages of Spur. We wandered the halls together and separately for days, making notes, crossing out extraneous text and adding Oxford commas.

Finally, we had done all the damage we could, and sent it off to Betty and Eunice for the editorial Night of the Long Knives. And thank goodness we were done with it, because whatever bug I had picked up on the plane just wasn't going away.

"Babe, I've been feeling cruddy ever since we got back from Fargo. I'm tired all the time, and frankly, I've been a bit of a bitch to be around. Don't deny it," I added, as I saw him open his mouth. "Thanks for putting up with me."

"Think you got some new mutant flavor of COVID during our travels?"

"I thought of that, but I've tested negative twice."

"Then what..." he started, but I held up a shaky hand.

Taking a big breath, I laid it on him. "I missed my period... so, I did another test."

I handed him the test strip.

===

Normally, my Harry is the epitome of 'unflappable.'

Attacked by a huge venomous reptile? He makes friends with the damn thing.

Saddled with a moody goth girl? He turns her into his new little sister.

Ambushed by a velociraptor? He'd probably rope it and ride it.

But now? He just sat there, his mouth moving, but no sounds coming out.

"Harry? Babe?"

Just as I was starting to get worried, he took me by the hand and led me outside into our backyard, stopping only to pick up his Stetson. It was now my turn to be speechless.

Harry said, "Only one way to answer that, sweetie." And a huge grin exploded across his face.

He tossed his hat as high up in the air as he could throw it.

A loud "Yahooooo!!" echoed among the cliffs of Barton Creek.

===

AFTERWORD

As far as we know, the 'Love Forest by Doris' does not actually exist in Rock Island. However, if you find it there or elsewhere, please let us know. Our description is extrapolated from data collected on 'research' field trips to much smaller 'hardware' stores in our own villages. As far as the exhaustive field-testing... well, you can draw your own conclusions.

The block-eating layout of the Fleegleman's hardware store was inspired by Powell's City of Books in Portland, OR. Powell's is a holy place, and no trip to Portland is complete without a stop there to worship the words, books, and writers that collect there.

One doesn't normally get Cushing's syndrome from inhaled corticosteroids. However, other medications, such as antidepressants can interact and amplify the effect of an inhaled steroid, as they did in our fictional character. One can read more details of this unfortunate interaction on PubMed Central, article number PMC3436715.

Don't worry (or maybe, DO worry); you haven't seen the last of these characters. As always, thanks for reading.