Nick's attempt at going to Western Union hits a few hurdles:
My Dear Reverend West,
I have had a Howard of a day! A real bastard. This, my day, such as it was, is probably no concern to you but I will tell you about it anyway.
Normally I seem to be able to walk down the street without people paying any heed to me at all; cats see me and high-tail it away but people expect cats to do that and think nothing of it. It is sort of a knack I have. Or had.
Today I was walking down the street, innocently tripping folk up, when a little girl pointed at me and shouted out "Mummy, Mummy, that man has horns on his head!". Well, I ask you! Anyway it seemed to break the spell as it were. The mother looked at me for a few moments, a look of cold comprehension crossed her face and then scurried off down her blouse somewhere. She screamed. A lovely, long discordant thing, warmed my heart it did, but it did unsettle the other pedestrians, who all turned to stare. I tried to look nonchalant, swinging my tail and whistling a tune from Orpheus.
Someone threw a cabbage and then it was on for young and old. The heroes, they threw everything that they could pick up at me. I could, of course, have brought forth the bats out of hell to help me but it usually gets me a bad press. I took the discrete route, as much as an unclad, half-man, half goat, with horns a tail, a fork and a body odour that can strip the paint off a battle cruiser, can be discrete. I turned and ran.
The upshot of it all is that I did not get a chance to return to the Western Union office. It was just not possible.
It distresses me to tell you this information, believe me it does. But I will get there tomorrow without fail. This is becoming a quest for me, Sir. I will finish this transaction! You have my word on it.
Now, the brimstone is boiling, I am off for a bath.
The Brimstone Chapel,
964/502 Victoria Street,
NORTH MELBOURNE, 3051,
Phone: (+613) 9838 4333
Fax : (+613) 9328 5338