Ai, Caramba

Ai, caramba, you never want to get unhappy news. We'll tell you all about it tomorrow.

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Meanwhile, Plot and Duck saw an extravaganza last night in Rivendell at Arwen and Elrond's house. It is spectacular. It involves horses. It is held under a huge white tent.

Parking in Rivendell, however, is truly awful. The production company forgot to remind people that parking was free for the Premiere, and they also forgot to put up a sign that said FREE. All the street parking around Saint Plotniko Medical Center, near where the show is being held, is for two hours only until 10pm. The show lasts nearly three hours and started last night at 7pm.

Plot and Duck chose the nearby lot where it said EVENT PARKING TEN DOLLARS. This is against the tenets of Reformed Plotnikkism, technically speaking, which proclaims:

"If Bill Stein Wouldn't Park There, You Shouldn't Either."

When they got into the lot, they discovered the only place to pay for your parking was at the one ticket machine, located on the far opposite corner, between San Leandro and Lake Tahoe. When they trudged over to the machine they found 100 people already in the line. The machine went very slow, and the line did not move. Meanwhile, show time approached.

There was a number hahaha to call hahaha.

A voice said "Please state name, address, phone number and size of ammo belt around waist."

No it didn't, but it was a recorded voice that led to an answering service. It was now 6:55pm.

Plot and Duck and half the crowd in line gave up. Plot wrote 'meter busted' on a piece of paper, stuck it on his windshield and went down to the tent.

When he got into the tent, the press agent said "Oh, didn't we tell you parking was free tonight? Didn't anyone put up the sign?"

When he got back to the car after the show he and everyone else in the lot had a $75 ticket on the windshield, from a private company, which Plotnik has no intention of paying, JUST TELLING YOU IN ADVANCE COLLECTION AGENCY YOU CAN KISS MY HORSE!

The show is an astonishing fantasy for eleven year old girls and rodeo riders and other people who truly love horses. In his early Big Apple years, Plotnik put too much money on those stupid, plodding oat-hogs to have any love left over, but even he had to admit the stunts pulled off by incredibly trained horsemen and horsewomen, at very high speed, while turning cartwheels and spinning on trapeezes, were worth every penny.

Of course, he got in free. Don't know if the show is worth $69-$134 EACH, plus baby sitter and ammunition to slay the meter maid before she slimes her crinkly paws around her ticketbook and...oops. Hold on. Repressed anger. Deep breath. Om and ahh.

Plotnik just re-read what he has written. He realizes he is just marking time here, refusing to feel sad yet about his best animal pal in the world, who is not doing well back in Brooklyn. Sigh. Animals. They're just animals. Right?