Quietly, Quiggly stepped into the darkness as he stealthily approached and steeled himself for the moment when he would pounce. But just as he got close, the man’s eyes flicked to the left. Quiggly was suddenly struck with the realization that he was being watched. “Ahhhh!” Quiggly said as he jumped and turned away from the man. “Now he’s got me on the run!” Quiggly turned again, just to see the man was already gone. He cursed to himself, the air in the alley still heavy with the stench of sewage. Quickly, he went back out into the street, but just as he was turning to continue down the road he heard a voice. “Mr. Turdles!” the voice said. “Wait! You’re just in time. We’re about to bring down the curtains on a special night of theater and song.” Quiggly turned in surprise to see Mr. Turdles, who held a candle and an umbrella as he stood with his fat stomach on the sidewalk. Mr. Turdles pulled a small bottle from his pocket, unscrewed the lid, and poured the contents into the opening. Quickly, he handed it to Quiggly. “Here,” he said. “Keep that safe. You never know what can happen.” “But I don’t smoke,” Quiggly said as he put the bottle into his pocket. “Never you mind,” Mr. Turdles said, looking up into the sky. “Things will get real interesting in a few minutes.” “Well, I’ll be off now,” Quiggly said. “I wouldn’t want to be late for the show.” Mr. Turdles opened the umbrella, held it up high so that the sky wouldn’t pour down on them, and gave Quiggly a shove. “I know the way, Mr. Turdles,” Quiggly said. “It’s in a very dark alley.” Mr. Turdles gave Quiggly another shove. “I know that. That’s the whole point. There’s no light down there. Now I know I gave you a shove, but I was just teasing you. You’ll see the play before it ends.” “Very well,” Quiggly said as he turned and began walking toward the alley. But as he turned, something was staring at him from out of the darkness. It was a large, white owl with a black face and pointed ears. The owl blinked as it flew down, and to the side. “Now, we’re not allowed in there,” the owl said. “And that’s the way it’s always been. Now that we’re in, we can’t leave. And now, we’re not allowed to take the light from the candle. So we’re stuck. But you have a friend in there who can let us out. We’ll stay until then, and then we’ll go home. But we can’t leave.” “Who’s that?” Quiggly asked as he stared at the owl. “Who is that?” Quiggly looked around. Mr. Turdles was long gone. He pulled the bottle out of his pocket and took a deep breath. As he breathed in the scent of mothballs, his eyes widened and he gasped. “Is that… mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmm?” he asked. “I’ve never smelled anything like that before. It’s so…” “Oh, you know it,” the owl said. “It’s you.” “Me?” Quiggly said. “Yes,” the owl said. “Your smell. It’s you. It’s so nice. You don’t smell like mothballs, though. You smell like… mints. Mints and… oranges. I know. It’s almost like a mixture of oranges and mints.” Quiggly smiled as he thought of the way he smelled and the way he felt right then. “You’re right,” he said. “That’s what it is. It’s the way I smell right now.” “I know,” the owl said. “It’s amazing. But that doesn’t help me. It doesn’t mean I can leave. I’m in this with you, and that means I can’t leave. But you can. I know you can. You can say good-bye to Mr. Turdles and come with me.” “I don’t want to leave you,” Quiggly said. “But I think I need to.” The owl flapped its wings. “You can’t leave me,” the owl said. “Not in there. You must stay with me. Come on, let’s go home.” Quiggly looked at the owl for a moment. “All right,” Quiggly said as he lifted the candle in his hand. He didn’t really want to, but he knew there was no choice. “But I’m sorry.” The owl blinked and flapped its wings once. “Then you understand,” it said. “You’ll have to do without me for a few hours.” “I understand,” Quiggly said as he headed down the dark, dank alleyway with the owl. “You can smell mints,” the owl said. “That’s how you know me. You can smell them when you’re close by me. It’s just a little bit, but it’s you.” Quiggly walked toward the darkness. “I’m so excited to be by your side for a while,” Quiggly said. “You’re so excited to be close to me,” the owl said. “You don’t understand what I am. I’m someone who knows about the things that you’re really good at.” Quiggly walked through the darkness. “It’s only a few hours,” Quiggly said. “I don’t think I can wait that long.” “Why not?” the owl said. “I think you can wait that long. I think you have to.” Quiggly turned in surprise and saw Mr. Turdles standing at the end of the alley. “It’s almost time for the play to begin,” Mr. Turdles said. “So if you’re not coming to the play, I have to ask you to leave. Please do me a favor and go on back to the alley and wait for me there. I’ll meet you on my way back.” “Is that what you want?” Quiggly asked. “Well, it is what the show needs,” Mr. Turdles said. “Just wait for me there. If I don’t see you, it means you weren’t there.” Quiggly looked down the alley. “I’ll be there,” he said. “I promise.” “Then it’s settled,” Mr. Turdles said as he pulled a large key from his pocket and turned to unlock the front door. “The play is just beginning.” Quiggly turned and walked away. He felt like he was rushing and rushing until he was no longer near the end of the alleyway. It was then that he slowed down. He heard the owl flapping behind him. “I’m right behind you,” the owl said. “I’m so excited to have you by my side.” Quiggly was afraid, but he couldn’t turn around. He kept going. He turned the corner and stopped for a moment. “You can smell it,” the owl said. “That’s how you know me.” Quiggly took a deep breath and felt the sweet smell of mints around him. It was almost as if he could feel it against his skin. But then it got stronger. And it didn’t smell like mints. It smelled like oranges. “It’s just for a few hours,” Quiggly said. “It won’t be that long.” “I know,” the owl said. “And I won’t tell you about the play. I’ll only tell you a few facts about it. You’ll have to be excited to be by my side. You’ll have to be willing to wait for a few hours.” Quiggly turned to face the owl and was shocked to see him standing a few feet away with the same black, pointed ears. “We won’t even leave the alley,” the owl said. “We’ll stay right here. It’s all right. It’s no problem.” Quiggly took another deep breath. The scent was strong. “Mints and oranges,” he said. “It’s a mixture.” “Exactly,” the owl said. “Come on, let’s go.” The owl flapped its wings and took flight. Quiggly followed him as they flew over the rooftops. When they arrived at the end of the alley, the owl turned and pointed with his claw to where they had landed. “That’s our house,” the owl said. “It’s just up the way. I live in the attic. I’m an actor.” “I’m in the play too,” Quiggly said. “Are you?” the owl asked. “I’ve been waiting for you. I thought you were coming with me.” Quiggly shook his head and turned to leave. “No,” Quiggly said. “You’re the one who’s supposed to stay with me.” “You said you were going home,” the owl said. “That was a lie. You’re supposed to stay with me. I know it. You can’t leave me. I won’t let you leave me. I’ll tell the people in the alley. They’ll know it’s you. They’ll know you stayed. You have to stay.” Quiggly turned and faced the owl. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t.” “Yes, you can,” the owl said. “Don’t say no. You have to stay with me. It’s you. It’s who you are. You’re the one. You have to stay.” Quiggly walked away from the owl and went up the way to the house. The attic door was at the top of the stairs and it was unlocked. Quiggly walked through the attic and closed the door. He could hear the owl flapping on the other side of the door and he wanted to tell the owl that he would wait for him. The owl was there for a reason and Quiggly felt responsible for him. But then the owls ears became sharp and pointed. He knew they couldn’t hear anything in the attic. Quiggly closed his eyes and felt a lump rise in his throat. “Wait for me,” the owl said. “I’ll be right behind you. I won’t leave you.” Quiggly opened his eyes and saw the owl standing there as if it was waiting for something. He felt the guilt again. “Don’t go. I won’t leave you,” the owl said. Quiggly stepped into the room. The room was dimly lit and dark as though no one lived there. There were no chairs, or tables, or lamps. It was just a long attic room. There was a small window on the far wall and it was closed. Quiggly wondered if he should open it. The air in the room felt heavy and humid and it seemed to be getting more so by the second. Quiggly heard the owl flapping behind him, but he couldn’t feel him. “I have to go,” Quiggly said. “I have to leave. I have to find the mints.” “Wait,” the owl said. “You can’t leave. You have to stay with me. You can’t leave me.” Quiggly pulled the mints from his pocket and felt them under his fingers. He placed them in the air and they took the shape of a key. “Is this what you want?” Quiggly said. “Is it you?” The owl took a small step forward. “Of course it is,” the owl said. “It has to be you. You have to be. You can’t leave me. I won’t let you. You’ll stay with me.” Quiggly felt his face fall as he heard the owl speak. But then he felt something else. The same thing he had felt when he had first seen Mr. Turdles standing at the end of the alley. “Wait for me,” the owl said. “I’ll be right behind you.” Quiggly shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t.” Quiggly pulled out the mints and the key and placed them in his pocket. “You can’t leave me,” the owl said. “You have to stay with me.” Quiggly felt the pain in his chest again. He reached out his hand and the owl was standing there. “Wait for me,” the owl said. “I’ll be right behind you. I won’t leave you. I won’t let you go. I’ll stay with you.” Quiggly felt his eyes water. “It’s all right,” the owl said. “It’s just for a few hours. I won’t tell you about the play.” Quiggly took a deep breath and felt the scent of oranges around him. It was stronger than ever. “No,” Quiggly said. “It can’t be me. You’re lying. It can’t be you.” Quiggly reached out and grabbed the owl’s claw. He shook it as if to break it off and the feathers fell from the claw and he saw it was just a claw. The owl’s face had shrunk into the claw and the eyes were no longer there. “I know,” the owl said. “It’s just a few hours. We’ll have fun.” Quiggly opened his mouth to speak and found he had no words. The owl was wearing the mask of an actor. He wore a black leather jacket and black pants and black boots. He was wearing an orange top that covered his throat and his mouth. The owl opened his mouth and the words were spoken. “I’m here for a few hours,” the owl said. “That’s all.” Quiggly didn’t speak. The owl leaned forward and kissed Quiggly’s lips with his claw. It was cold and there was a terrible taste in his mouth. “It’s only for a few hours,” the owl said. “You can’t say no. You have to stay with me.” “Stop,” Quiggly said. “It’s not what you think.” The owl put his face into Quiggly’s and he felt the smell of oranges. It was stronger than ever and it made him feel sick. The pain in his chest was worse than ever and he thought he was going to die. “It’s what I want,” the owl said. “It’s just for a few hours. You can’t say no. You have to stay with me. I won’t let you go. I’ll stay with you.” Quiggly’s hands were shaking and he thought he might be sick. The pain in his chest was unbearable. “You’re lying,” Quiggly said. “It’s not what you think.” The owl’s claws dug into Quiggly’s arms. He smelled oranges and knew he was going to die. The pain in his chest was unbearable. “I’m here for a few hours,”