"no madam, it is italian."

"do you think jason could be mistaken about her name?"

"madam, i think your jason could be mistaken about his own name." we chuckled. "the river is very pretty at night, is that a house boat?" he pointed.

"pappa's playhouse, no, not really, it's a pleasure boat; i guess the only difference is that they don't live on it. a lot of people do though, on the green river."

"i shouldn't think that would be a very exciting life."

"maybe not, but a peaceful one, simpson."

"i believe that i'll deal with my present circumstances, if that's alright ma'me."

"picking hairs out of horses' tails and seeing that pork pie doesn't stroke out?"

"quite," he answered.

"god simpson, look ahead, wow, how totally neat." there were two ferris wheels and an array of carousels, a haunted house or two, all kinds of stuff. the coven was in business.

"new car, carlee?" j. p. said.

"yep, i love it."

"should have got a lexus."

"so they tell me," i answered. mr. mcstoots smiled. "j.p., may i present simpson, my friend."

"how do you do sir, any friend of carlee's is a friend of mine." j.p. looked at simpson, up and down, way up. "and i like your outfit, real good."

simpson shook his hand. "quite a set up." he said.

"yes sir, doin' it up right this year. come on you two, i'll show you around."

there were the usual game booths. "lots of kids around, mr. simpson."

"please, just simpson."

"if you don't mind me saying so sir, i'll bet we could fix you up to be very scary."

"he's not for rent j.p." i could tell that simpson was becoming uncomfortable.

"just a thought carlee, guess i'm letting this halloween get to me more that i thought."

"j.p., this is excellent, twice as much as last year, now where is the reason you summoned us."

mcstoots coughed. "well, maybe we should have a drink first. step into my office." j.p. led us to a small tent, well equipped and with a wet bar. "jack daniels ok?" simpson shook his head, so did i. "i don't have any mixers folks, except water."

"that's fine," i said.

"this bourbon is excellent, mr. mcstoots, the finest i think i've ever drunk, is it local?"

"no mr. simpson, i mean simpson, our tennessee neighbors produce this, it's a handsome blend, probably stemmed from moonshine, stored in oaken barrels for years before it's bottled."

"now j.p., spill it," i said.

"i really don't know how to begin folks, well, i do know that, but she, she's the most mysterious human being i've ever met. i ran across her in st. louis this spring, a friend told me of her, said she might be interesting at my halloween thing. she didn't work at a carnival or anything, had a small trailer, very old, she told fortunes and things to the locals, very well respected. she told me things that i had long forgotten about myself."

"tea leaves or palm?" i asked.

"neither carlee, not tarot cards either, she can simply touch you, and visions come, visions of great depths in fact."

"but you said that she knew a lot about me, i've never touched her."

"through me, carlee, that's all i can say, you'll have to spend a little time with nina, and then you'll know."

"when i was a boy, in bulgaria, there were three types of psychics," simpson said. "there were the holistics, the gyspies and the natural born. the holistic were religious in nature, they claimed that their gift was from the almighty; the gypsies were mainly itinerant hungarians who played parlour games, some very well too; the natural born were difficult to describe, they healed, they contacted those from another realm and they had uncanny abilities, truly uncanny." there was a weird expression on simpson's face as he spoke.

"miss velotti told me her abilities were 'naturally born' simpson, is that what she meant?"

"there was also a wicca set, mr. mcstoots, able to cast spells and things, they didn't call themselves pyschic though, but, yes, she sounds natural born, the scariest of the four."

"then prepare to be amazed guys. i keep her over there." j.p. pointed to a small windstar trailer that had to be fifty years old. "nina chose these quarters herself, i offered better, believe me, but she said she related to this, not much room, i'm afraid." there was no writing on the trailer, no advertising, just a rusted out old trailer that shouldn't have appealed to anyone.

"simpson, what will she be like?"

"if i didn't know better, i'd think you were sceered, madam." simpson had a shit eating grin on his face.

"smart ass," i said. j.p. opened the door of the trailer, simpson went pale.

"my god," he whispered.

"folks, meet ms. nina velotti." nina velotti sat at a round wooden table. she had the most incredible eyes i had ever seen, grey and large, almost bulging. she looked to be between forty and seventy, her skin was unwrinkled, but not young. her hair was long, straight and grey, she had on a red outfit, and she scared the shit out of me.

"welcome," she said softly. "you must be carlee."

i mustered a smile. "yes ma'me, and this is my friend simp...."

"i already know your friend, carlee," she said. simpson went pale, paler than usual. "a fellow bulgarian, i believe." she smiled.

j.p. laughed out loud. "let her read your palm carlee."

"i'd rather read the gentleman's," nina said.

"i'm sorry madam, i only submit to parlour tricks on halloween eve."

"please, indulge me, mr. simpson, i don't bite."

"go on simpson," i told him. "it can't hurt anything."

simpson looked at me, then sat down, stretched his long arm across the table. "if you say so madam." nina touched simpson's palm, ever so gently. her neck became limp and she bent it backward. her eyes rolled back in her head.

"she does that folks, don't be alarmed," j.p. said.

nina moaned some, then kind of came back to reality. "you have a very interesting palm, sir, and a nice long lifeline. i see much."

"man, she's really spooky ain't she, the main attraction this year for sure," j.p. said. simpson just stared into nina's eyes, neither said anything, they just stared. "let her do you, carlee." j.p said. simpson had broken his stare, both of them had, and neither looked happy.

i offered her my hand. "she won't suck anything out of me will she j.p.?"

"like what darling?"

"what's left of my mind."

j.p. smiled. "na, me and mr. simpson are still intact." j.p. looked ok, but simpson was quite silent. nina velotti's finger tickled my outstretched palm. she didn't go spastic when she did my palm.

"does sandy's babe have enough food and water?" she asked.

"andy's babe, not sandy's," i replied politely.

"and did you place the dew cover on your new telescope?"

"oh my gosh, i didn't think about that!" i snapped.

"collimation is quite difficult with a mirror that size dear, have mr. simpson hone it in for you when you get home, and please remember the dew cover."

"thank you ms. velotti, i'll remember that."

"and you didn't leave fresh food out for russell."

"i'm sorry again ma'me." she smiled.

"satisfied that's she's psychic folks?"

"and how, j.p," i said. we shook our head in agreement.

"sorry we don't have more time nina," j.p said. "busy night."

she smiled. "please come again, especially you, buzamarkov." simpson went paler than pale again. he nodded graciously, then we walked down. 'buzz somethin' or another, in that scandahoovian shit': pork pie's words suddenly came back to me.

"simpson, was that your real first name?" i asked.

"no madam, my first name is bart." the color had come back to his face.

"ha,ha, i like that mr. simpson, bart." j.p. laughed.

"did she suck anything out of you simpson?" i asked.

simpson crossed his eyes. "not too much," he said, with an accent that rivaled jason from the ferry.

j.p laughed again. "carlee, your fellow is amazing, cool and funny too."

"i could be of some value to you here, sir?"

"amen, mr. simpson, are you going to be around long?"

"i'm afraid not, sir."

"well, anyway, what do you all think of nina?"

"she's quite spooky j.p., she'll do nicely." simpson was quiet on the way home. i drove, and he sucked on a bottle of strawberry hill. when we pulled into the driveway, simpson said that he had to attend to andy's babe. i went in and made both of us a double bourbon, then went into the bathroom where i took a quick shower, and thought about my new telescope. i slipped into a pair of pj's with a midriff friendly top. simpson was still outside.

"hello out there? anybody out there?"

"over here madam, come, look at the babe, i braided his tail."

"what are you doing simpson?"

"collimating this telescope." andy's tail was beautiful, i petted his rump and told him that he was a good horse. "come miss carlee, i have mars."

i ran excitedly to simpson. "is it nice simpson?"

"very nice ma'me, it's diminished a great deal, you can see its moons quite well." he put his arm around my neck as i looked.

"fabulous!" i shouted. "god, the hubble couldn't be better!"

"slightly, maybe," he smiled.

i couldn't help myself, i put my arms around his neck and kissed him. "thank you so much simpson."

"it is my pleasure, madam." his blue eyes sparkled. i looked again.

"beautiful, simply beautiful," was all i could say.

"almost as beautiful as you madam."

i looked up and rubbed his cheek. "hey, i poured you a double bourbon inside simpson."

"i'll certainly drink to that," he said.

"please replace the dew cap."

simpson was sitting comfortable in my loveseat, drinking his drink, his bare feet on the coffee table, his head back. "very nice place you have here madam, i don't think i've ever been any place more comfortable."

"why thank you, simpson," i said, as i sat down beside him.

"you have such a pretty midriff, miss, you should wear nothing else but blouses like this one," he said, as he held it in his hand.

"simpson, what did you think of ms. velotti?"

"well, we didn't get to know her very well miss."

"i know, but, well, how did she know your name?"

"we sucked a lot out of each other, miss carlee," he said. "there are some very interesting things about the occult."

"like what?" i asked.

simpson smiled, and finished his drink. "well, the way two can suck things from each other."

"hmmmm, do you believe she was really from bulgaria?"

"yes, varna, i believe."

"was that where you were born, simpson?"

"no madam, i'm from balchik, a few kilometers from there."

"did you know her?"

"no, i knew her grandmother, a lady known as ms. mina, a beautiful lady with the most supernatural powers of anyone i have ever met."

"did you suck that out of her simpson?"

"i most certainly did, miss."

"are you psychic?"

"we all are to a degree, miss carlee."

"could you tell my future by just holding my hand?"

"i don't think so, madam."

"would i have to take my clothes off?"

"i really don't think so." he smiled.

"sometimes you're just not so fun, simpson," i pouted.

"alright, make me another drink, and i promise to enthral you with my psychic powers." this excited me, plus the fact that both of our glasses were empty. i scooted toward the kitchen.

"now, show me, simpson?"

"alright, think of a number between 1 and 40."

"ok, i got it."

"now multiply it by 2 and a half."

"how in the hell do you multiply by a half?"

"2.5 then." he smiled.

"ok, ok."

"now, divide by three."

"ok, got it."

"is it 23?"

"no!"

simpson laughed. "then it's 41."

"right, but that's mathematical, not psychic."

"rats!" he smiled and said. the phone rang.

"hello."

"don't hello me, goddamnit, where the fuck have you two been all day."

"we've been on the road, pork pie, busy," i said.

"by god, put buzz on the line, right now!"

"you don't have to yell pork, your upsetting us."

"put him on the goddamn line, carlee, we've got problems."

"it's for you simpson 3;"

"so i gathered miss." he took the phone. "yes," he said.

"turn the speaker mode on, simpson," i said.

"yes, mr. anderson"

"simpson, we've got to move the fuckin' horse!"

"shout that again sir," simpson modestly said.

"the babe, goddamnit, you gotta get him out of there."

"sir, i'm afraid that is impossible, miss carlee's car couldn't pull the trailer to beaver dam."

"well i don't give a fuck if you two hop on his ass and ride him to nashville, you've got to get him outta there before morning! and i mean it simpson, federal agents will be surrounding you by early tomorrow."

"oh my," simpson said.

"those fuckin' army son-of-a-bitches sold us out, buzz, and we're in big trouble."

simpson thought, russell jumped in his lap. "ahchuuu!" simpson sneezed. "i'll work this out sir, and thank you for the warning." he hung up on pork pie.

"what's the worst scenario simpson?" i asked.

"well, i'm afraid it isn't good madam, the least worst probably isn't either."

"what are we going to do?"

"try to get the trailer out of here, miss, call mr. mcstoots and ask if we could park andy's babe next to his elephants for a day or so. i really hate this for the horse miss, he deserves better."

"i agree simpson, but how could we get andy to j.p.'s even if he says ok?"

"we'll manage miss," simpson replied. i called j.p. and he said it would be wonderful if we brought andy's babe. simpson was out in a shed by the river, looking for something.

"are you finding everything simpson?"

"almost miss, yes, practically, but i need something from my room." simpson had my car parked in front of andy's trailer, and was trekking back up the hill. "you wouldn't have a spare trailer hitch, female, would you madam?"

"did you find one in the outbuilding?"

"hardly, everything else though." he smiled. "how did it go with mr. mcstoots?"

"he said that he would be glad to keep andy."

"great!" he said as he walked in the house." simpson reappeared in a few minutes with a fresh drink and a flame thrower. well, it looked like a flame thrower anyway.

"could you slowly back the car up, madam, i'll guide you." simpson put some metal slats on the trailer hitch, then stood there, flame thrower in hand. i got in and backed up slowly. "stop!" he snapped. "now, another inch or so. there, right there miss. hit the emergency brake. good, perfect." simpson held a small tube in his hand, and pushed a button on the main machine. a bright light appeared, and i smelled something burning.

"your laser deal, simpson?"

"precisely madam, and i believe it's done the trick."

"how far will it get us?"

"good question miss, it we get to the highway, we're in business, hopefully to mr. mcstoot's circus grounds."

"should we spend the night somewhere else?" i asked.

"no, it will probably be alright. they know andy was here anyway, we just have to say that a tractor came and drove away with him."

"sounds reasonable simpson." we finished our drinks then left out. simpson asked me to drive, and slowly. i went back for a convincing chat with andy's babe. horse silence, but i think he understood. i patted him on the head and told him it would be all right. it took fifteen minutes to get out of my driveway. the front of the car was at one time 30 degrees to the ground. "maybe we should let andy out simpson," i suggested.

"that would be rather self defeating, i believe miss."

"just long enough to get on the highway?"

"please just try to drive slowly miss, we're not taking him to the moon." simpson had a point. i finally got us to the highway. traveling was tough though, i had the car all over the road, the back was controlling the front, so to say. "steady as ye go, matey," simpson advised.

"i'm doing my best simpson." and i was becoming more and more frightened. as we approached rochester dam ferry, i didn't think i could make the sharp right to mcstoots', much less drive down that narrow road. i froze, and turned off my engine. "i'm sorry simpson, you'll have to take over," i said.

"i wish you hadn't stopped here miss, getting started seems to be the most difficult task." simpson got out and relieved me at the wheel. i spoke softly to andy's babe as he passed behind the rig, and i do mean 'the rig'. he got in and started up, the tires started to spin and the car was heaved 40 degrees upward.

"i don't think we have the fuel for mars, simpson." he grunted, but finally got us on track. just as we passed 'dad's pad' the car spun again in mud, and the trailer headed toward the river. the car followed. "my god in heaven!" i shouted. "we're going into the river!" i could hear the trailer splash. half the trailer was under water, i suppose it must have hit bottom, or we'd be under. "andy!" i hollared. simpson was just as concerned as i was.

"he's alright ma'me, he's moved forward in the trailer, i can hear him."

i listened carefully. "simpson, the babe is going to drown!"

"no, no he isn't miss, he can swim, i've seen him. walk back up to the ferry, see if jason can help, i'll try dad, across the road."

"no simpson, i'm not leaving the babe, i can't!" god, if we only had some light. i was about ready to cry, uncontrollably. simpson was walking toward the boat owner's house, 'dad's pad.' suddenly there was light. 'dad's pad' was a large pleasure boat, as big as a houseboat. it was littered with lights, and two or three came on beside it. simpson walked back, handed me his cap and shoes, then dove into the green. my god in heaven, i've lost both of them. i waited, breathlessly, for a moment, and the horse and simpson swam ashore.

"my hero," i said, as i hugged simpson, then andy. "andy, for goodness sakes, you smell like a fish!"

"hey, are you all alright down there?" a voice shouted, i assumed it was dad.

"yes sir, we're fine thanks, and thank you for the light." andy shook, and gave the both of us an unwanted, unneeded shower. dad came down to us. he was a pleasant looking older man, who was quite concerned. "i have a tractor out in the field folks, could probably save your trailer," he explained.

"it's alright dad, but we can just cut it loose and pick it up later," simpson said.

"oh please, don't do that, i'll get the tractor and be right back."

"as you wish sir," simpson said.

"gosh, i never knew there was a real dad, simpson, and he's very nice." simpson smiled. dad came back with three huge beach towels.

"thought you and the horse might want to dry off a bit sir." simpson thanked him, took one towel, and handed me the other two. i dried andy, and simpson attempted to dry himself, it would have taken three more. i heard an ancient tractor fire up. it sounded only a little better than my old oldsmobile.

"simpson, what did you glean from ms. velotti?"

"oh, things ma'me, visions of things."

"what kind of things?"

"of nepal and transylvania, old bulgaria, her grandmother."

"is she a for real psychic?"

"yes, i believe she is."

dad roared across the narrow highway, stopped and asked us if we were getting dry.

"hardly, sir," simpson answered.

dad examined the trailer rig on the back of my car. "no hitch," he said.

"they are welded together sir," simpson replied.

"i don't have that kind of equipment," dad said.

"i do sir, but we may lose the trailer when i free it."

"it looks secure to me," dad exclaimed.

"looks are often deceiving sir."