2nd London dispatch:
When young mystic Road reached the Trafalgar Fountain all was sunny and peaceful. He caught sight of two lovers squeezing each other. And as he strolled along a playful child’s ball bumped up against the toe of his boot. He nudged the ball forward amidst fresh and rosy laughter.
There was nothing to do.
So America’s favorite outlaw, Road, sat down at a picnic table and became involved in a game of checkers ‘tween two ghosts. The two ghosts were content as was possible for pallid ghosts to be ~ there in bustling London.
“Your move,” said one ghost to the other.
“No it’s not. It’s your move. I just took your king.”
“You didn’t, Mahatma!”
Road’s eyes went round. The feller called “Winston” was big and florid, wearing a top hat, dressed in a suit and smoking a cigar. The one called “Mahatma” was a little, wrinkled-up, old chap wearing nothing but a diaper. Could the young outlaw be sitting at a table with the ghosts of Winston Churchill and Mahatma Gandhi?
And what about the riots? Everything was so peaceful here…
(to be continued)