Thanks to all of those who sent notes of support and inquiry.

Pamela-Not-Nobody

After finishing issue 12, we at The Egress were thrown into a sudden panic when we realized the next issue would be . . . number 13. I am not saying that we are superstitious or anything, but we *had* all just finished watching the video of *Apollo 13* and we didn't want to take any chances. We wondered what the hell we were going to do. We've pretty much been wondering that ever since. We've been collecting material, letters to Maddy and the like, but we haven't felt comfortable about going to print.

Then just last week, Bunnie-Sue McGillicuty Shwartz, our wandering and occasional etiquette and "art of living" reporter (and occasionally, our wandering and incoherent reporter--but that hasn't happened since her last change of meds) said, "Hey, ya'll, I got an idea. You remember in the old days how they used to build skyscrapers without a thirteenth floor? They'd just skip over thirteen and go from twelve to fourteen. Why don't we do that with The Egress?"

Although all of us were very glad we weren't old enough to remember the old days Bunnie-Sue was talking about, we decided it was a pretty good idea. We immediately swung and sprung into action, and the result is this, issue 14 in an occasional series of Egressi. I hope our readers enjoy it, even those who don't know who the hell we are and why we are bothering them.

Nobody
Editor, The Egress

HINT: While fondling Walter's differential calibrator, only remove the face and stick your hand inside if your ultra high heeled shoes have thick rubber soles.

HINT: Afterwards, for a really neat joke, stick a light bulb in your mouth. This will amuse some and arouse others, so be careful.

HINT: While arranging flowers, never let Michael into your apartment.

HINT: While trying to hand off an illicit disk to Uncle Miltie, be sure you get there good and early.

HINT: When returning home from a botched attempt at handing off an illicit disk to Uncle Miltie, be sure to check the livingroom for bodies before settling in.

HINT: When trying to decide the fate of the world, think very, very carefully.

"*Mr. Power-Monger* - Oh, I knew this was a bad idea, but the begging and pleading was becoming a distraction. Not an unpleasurable experience, but I would've enjoyed it a bit more had he not kept asking me to "spank him for being a naughty, naughty boy". Upon reflection, I think I rather liked that.

"*Kibbles-n-Bits* - As my late mother-the unforgiving witch-used to say 'what can you expect from a pig but a grunt?'"

"*Bandanna Man - Who ever thought I could have such an interesting encounter sprawled on a beanbag chair, in a blacklit room, with Hendrix blasting on the stereo? There is something to be said for experience after all.

"*Mr. Failed Takeover* - Borrrringggg! I do-zed off in the middle. If I was him, I wouldn't be throwing around the term 'incompetence.'

"*My Funny Valentine* - You have to appreciate a man so eager to please, and he told the most delightful anecdotes.

"*The Sand Man* - That was nine years ago. You expect me to remember?

"*Emerald Eyes* - Well, he's been of no use to me at all since we recruited that blonde Amazon, but prior to that...ooh-la-la. C'est magnifique. It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?"

The list goes on...and on...and on. Where does the lady find time to do her job?

Rumors are flying that our wondrous and benevolent (cough...cough) leader is really interested in--dare I say it?--ruling the world. All we can say is if he can find a way to ban that darn Celine Dion/Titanic song from the airwaves and keep Regis & Kathie Lee off the TV in the employee lounge, then you have my full support, "Your Royal Smugness."

Female operatives, and the fellas down in wardrobe, were aghast when news leaked out that "Section's #1 Heartthrob" had shorn his shoulder-length, auburn locks. Take a deep breath ladies--and Bruce and Philip--we're sure that he'll continue to keep pulses racing, regardless of hair length.

What fun-loving, designer drug-taking, green-listed informant got the shock of his life while in the midst of a heavy slap and tickle session with a tasty bit of crumpet he picked up at a London hotspot? Things were starting to sizzle, when "Mr. Party" discovered his lovely lady was a man, baby!! This startling revelation has our "Goofy Go-Between" laying low for a while.

Come on "Miss Gullible"! You didn't actually believe the "Boy Wonder" when he feigned ignorance of the location of the "Black Knight's" humble abode? Where do you think the weekly S.T.U.D.M.A.N poker game is held?

You all know this gossip diva has long kept a watchful eye on the ever-changing relationship between "Mr. Conflicted" and "Miss Spunky." And although these two have hit more bumps than Helen Keller reading the Braille version of *War & Peace,* apparently the fire still burns. Reliable sources inform us that the tortured twosome were seen sharing a chaste kiss and tentative hug right in the middle of Section! It might not be much, romance fans, but we're still encouraged.

Dedicated Section computer genius by day, smooth-talking party animal by night. Oh, yes, folks! It's true. Since shedding his flighty galpal, this "Cool Under Pressure" operative has been tripping the light fantastic at the chicest clubs in town, leaving in his wake a string of very satisfied beauties. You wouldn't know it to look at him, but this "Logged-On Lothario" has turned into quite the lady killer.

That's all that's under the covers this week . . . Val . . .

Bari, Lynn, Ann and Boodles, poisoned in a health food
        restaurant, RIP
Haldeman, Ehrlichman, Mitchell and Dean, in the line of
        Uncle Miltie, RIP
Ames, Aames, Eames, Aims, in the Deep Level, Deep Cover,
        Double Dealing Hornswoggle, RIP
Lola, Lurena, Gacy, Bundy, Daumer, Bianchi, O.j., Rico, Coco,
        Harley, Farley, Puff, Duff, Lough, Slough, Ghoti, Jack,
        Daniels, Jim, Beam, Hiram, Walker, Bush, Mills, T.J.,
        Swan, Boris, Gudunov, Peer, Gynt, Carmen, Andrea, Chenier,
        Faust, Manon, Lescaut, The Captain, Tenielle,
        and Reilly, in the line of duty, RIP

DOB: 1965

Place of birth: Marseilles, France

Following is a list of hypothetical questions. You must answer all questions completely. "Not applicable" is not an applicable answer. Nor is "I don't know," "Neither one," "Who writes this stuff?" or "You've got to be kidding." We are assuredly *not* kidding. And don't try lying to us. This questionnaire has invisible monofilaments woven through it which can not only tell whether you are lying, but can track your every move. (You know, like the ones in the US dollar bill.)

1. If you were stranded on a desert island and could only have five books with you, what would they be?

No PDAs or PCs? No satellite links? Just books??? Oh well...

1. *One Hundred and One Uses For a Coconut*

2. *Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid To Ask*

3. *Robinson Crusoe*

4. The USMC Field Survival Manual

5. Madeline's Rescue

2. Which would you rather kill, a monkey or a cat?

My answer would be entirely situational. If, for instance, the monkey had a howitzer and the cat had only an Uzzi, I would take out the monkey first, diving and rolling, and as I came up would nail the cat right between the eyes. If, on the other hand, the monkey was armed with a sword and the cat had a AK-47, I would certainly take out the cat first, although it might be a close shave with that sword-wielding monkey. If you just want an answer on general principles, I would probably kill the monkey. When I was a child, my Cousin Gaston was always trying to get me to play with his monkey and I haven't been able to get close to one since.

3. If you knew for certain there was a God, which would you rather be: a priest, a preacher, or a rabbi?

A priest would clearly not work for me. I don't like the hairstyles of most preachers I've seen. Hmm...Would that be an orthodox or reformed rabbi? I guess I'd have to go with being a reformed rabbi.

4. If you had to lose one of the following twinned body parts, which would you rather lose? A kidney, a testicle, or an eye?

Well, I think losing a testicle might negatively impact at least half my Section One missions, and losing a kidney would seriously impact my ability to process all those mind-altering drugs I'm given during interrogations, not to mention the anti-smiling drugs and libido boosters Section One gives me. So, I suppose--although it would impinge on my depth perception --an eyeball would be the best answer. Besides, the black patch would go well with my wardrobe.

5. Paper or plastic?

Paper. The plastic bags don't work nearly so well as masks. It's hard to breathe in them. You can also make very nice hats from the paper ones, as well as semi-functional toy boats.

DOB: 1975

Place of birth: Picnic Rock, Australia

1. If you were stranded on a desert island and could only have five books with you, what would they be?

A. Oh, I guess a collection of poems by William Wadsworth. You know, that famous old English poet. I think he wrote something about a Tinted Abbey, and something called, uh, Intimate Immortality, or something, and, oh yeah, She Walks In Beauty. I really like that one!

B. Let's see. The Collected Works of William Shakespeare, I guess. That ought to eat up a lot of time. I'm assuming I'd be *really* bored anyway on this desert island, right?

C. James Joyce's *Ulysses*. I've been trying to get through it for ever so long, but I just can't seem to. He keeps repeating himself so much and it's really hard to follow the train of thought! I mean, it *rambles* for crying out loud! How this thing ever got to be a classic is beyond me! (Although I do like that Molly Bloom.)

D. Maddy suggested I read Dianetics. She said she'd found it to be very helpful in her work. I guess I could give that a whirl.

E. Birkoff recommended something called Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I'm not much into technical reading and I don't have a motorcycle to work on--that's more Michael's line--but he seemed to think it was real swell. (He's such a brain, you know?)

2. Which would you rather kill, a monkey or a cat?

A monkey? A cute little monkey?? I could never kill a cute little innocent monkey! And a cat??? Ohmygod! Never! Never ever never would I kill a cute little pussycat! They're so cuddly and oogly and innocent! (Gee, I wonder whatever happened to that kitty Alex gave me? Now that I think about it, I haven't see it in over a year.)

3. If you knew for certain there was a God, which would you rather be: a priest, a preacher, or a rabbi?

How can you talk about God when you've just asked me to kill a little furry creature?????

4. If you had to lose one of the following twinned body parts, which would you rather lose? A kidney, a breast, or an eye?

I'm sorry, I'm just so upset about this question about the cat and the monkey that I can't even worry about myself! How could you ask that? How could *anyone* expect me to kill such cute little furry creatures? I mean, that's inhuman!

5. Paper or plastic?

I mean, would *you* kill a cute little furry creature???

Congratulations! You are one of the rare Section operatives to have reached retirement age alive and you have just been declared incompetent. You're probably wondering, "Gee, what's next? Row 07, Plot 01?" Hey! Would good ol' Mother Section do a thing like that to its formerly- valuable operatives? I think not!

Section One is always plotting and planning how best to use and reuse its operatives, and when the time comes for them to walk into that Golden Sunset, you can rest assured that we will do our utmost to squeeze the utmost out of your declining, post-useful years. That is why Section One, in conjunction with other ultra-covert agencies, has set up the ultra-chic, ultra-luxurious, ultra-imprisoning Section One (Et Al.) Retirement Villa Compound, located on the super-secret, super-cloaked, super-semi-mythological island of Lyonnais off the coast of Wales near the lovely seaside resort town of Port Marion. (But forget about Port Marion. *You'll* never see it.)

Once on Lyonnais, retired operatives will get a chance to mingle with other post-productive operatives from other ultra-covert agencies and you won't have to worry at all about spilling Section beans. Talk old war stories all you like! Since no one outside Lyonnais will ever see you or your fellow retirees again, have a gab fest!

The amenities on Lyonnais are only the *best.* (Would we do less for our formerly-effective brethren?) Each previously-efficient operative gets their own lushly furnished, condo-like cell, appointed with:

     --  Three plumbing taps in the kitchen--hot, cold, and
            liquid Maalox.

        --  Three plumbing taps in the bathroom--hot, cold, and
            Grecian Formula.

        --  Round-the-clock surveillance (only in case you fall
            and can't get up).

        --  Free diaper service.

        --  A Rascal of your very own.

        --  A well-stocked video library, including every episode
            ever produced of Barnaby Jones, Matlock, Murder She Wrote,
            Diagnosis Murder, and Cannon.

        --  An extensive set of games:  mah jongg, cribbage, checkers,
            pinochle, and yahtze.

And let's not forget about socializing!

        -- Join your erstwhile-capable confreres at the fiber
           therapy bar for the delicious citrus drink of your choice.

        -- Marvel at the intricacies of the power struggles which supply
           your community with an ever-changing series of leaders
           (affectionately called #2--and not because of that fiber
           therapy bar!  Who is #1?  We'll never tell!).

        -- Mingle with other minions at the Retirement Cotillion for
           those Starlight Dance & Slow Motion Martial Arts Contests.

        -- Mosey over the hills and dales of lovely Lyonnais without a
           care (because you'll all be implanted with tracking devices and
           we can find you if you get lost).

        -- And best of all, those of you not absolutely non compos mentis
           will be put to work being surrogate grandparents at the Section
           One (Et Al.) Nursery Villa Compound on the *other* side of
           Lyonnais.

But one thing our heretofore-daring operatives must never, ever do: try to escape. Because anyone who tries to leave the island of Lyonnais by unauthorized conveyance will be faced by a fearsome security device-- giant, white plastic balloons which emerge from the sea and engulf prisoners, er, retirees and return them to the peace, safety, and sanctity of Lyonnais at the conclusion of each episode, er, transgression. (Because, after all, we know what's best for you, and wouldn't want you to go out into the big, bad world and get into trouble.)

Be Seeing You,

Your Inhuman Resources Director
Ray Leeds

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