as she swept up the straw and droppings from the barroom floor. Wiping her nose daintily on a rag she often used to clean the KB's tables, she turned her allergy-reddened eyes to a table in the corner where her son was arguing with his chicken.

'Consarned chicken,' she muttered under her breath as she carefully felt her nosering for any stray strands of snot. Deciding it was dry enough, she looped the damp rag back in her belt.

'Chicken'll be the death of 'im,' she mumbled as she returned the broom to its place behind the bar. 'Why he coulda got hisself a near anybody for a wife! And now look at 'im, followin' that trampy chicken around while she gambles and takes up with strangers.'

Looking sadly at her son, she shook her head. Even King Zig hadn't been in the hay as much as that unfaithful chicken. 'Mary,' she spat. 'Hussy's more like it.'

There was a good crowd tonight. That flamboyant woman had brought in some friends of hers, too. Good, repeat business. Suddenly Hildebeest stood straight. She peered through the swirls of dust she'd been stirring up with her sweeping. Her eyes widened, her bosom heaved, her loins quivered. She had spied MEN! BIG HUNKY, GORGEOUS MEN! With MUSCLES! An ABUNDANCE of muscles.

Her walk was seductive, her smile girlish, her voice like honey as she approached one of the THINGS.

"Well, hello," she batted her eyelashes and coyly caressed the brawny arm on the bar. "My," she trilled coyly, "aren't you the handsome one!"