Copyright (c) 1996

                         SHOW ME THE MONEY!

     Thunk!
     Del Freeman looked up from the latest Grisham, glanced at her
husband David.  "Did you hear that?"
     Dave was wiping the counter at Ruby's Truck Stop, periodically
glancing toward the traffic rushing by on the Information Superhighway
just outside.  "Hear what?"
     Thunk! Thunk!
     "That," Del said, folding down the corner of the current page. 
"You don't think..."
     Thunk!  Thunkety-thunk-thunk-thunk!
     Dave grinned.  "He's back."

                              *   *   *

     Del was careful to holler "Incoming!" before opening the door to
the back office.  She found more-or-less what she expected:  seated
behind the desk, feet resting on the corner, armed cocked to fire a
dart at the dartboard on the back of the door, was The Man in the Grey
Leather Jacket.
     "Hey, Del--what's shakin'?" he asked, motioning a "close me" toward
the door.  She shut the door, he fired the dart he was holding.  Jimmy
Stewart sprouted another feathered missile.
     "Why are you picking on Jimmy?" Del asked.  "Don't you know 'tis
the season to be jolly?"
     "It ain't a wonderful life, Freeman--otherwise, the real Michael
Hahn wouldn't be confused, and I wouldn't be here."  He lined up
another throw.  "Mikie's got his jockeys in a wad over his occupation
again.  He gets upset, I get to play."  Thunk!
     "I've never really understood how that works, you know.  I'm stuck
with Ruby all the time," Del said, shaking her head.  "So what's the
problem?"
     "Well," said The Man in Grey, grabbing a couple more darts from
the bucket by his side, "the independent group he helped to form after
leaving Clueless, Inc. is a step up, but his co-workers are still
basically the same squad.  I don't think he really knew how much these
people get on his nerves.
     "Now the one he's been waiting for to join the group is doing the
smart thing, and has found herself greener pastures.  This leaves him,"
the Man in Grey said, neatly skewering Jimmy's left eye, "up the
proverbial creek."
     "So in other words, he's thinking about hunting for another job,
huh," Del said.
     "Yup.  Hates it, too.  He's such a stick-in-the-mud; hates
adventure, hates the beach, doesn't drink or dance or do anything but
pound on his keyboard."  He fired two darts simultaneously, piercing
Jimmy's ears.  "He starts to daydream, and I get to surface.  Last
month he was at the annual conference for the industry, and I got to
spend a night hanging out in the bar."
     Del shook her head.  "You're lucky Ruby wasn't there with you."
     He grinned his trademark half-smile.  "She might have been, but
Boston is cold in November, and Ruby doesn't do cold.  I told her it
was an outdoor event."
     "Speaking of Ruby, have you seen her lately?  David's almost to
the point where he wants to unpack the, uh, travel bag he keeps by the
door."
     The Man in Grey chuckled.  "I don't think she'll be around for a
bit," he added.  "I gave her an assignment, and she jumped on it with
both feet."
     "Assignment?" Del asked, puzzled.
     "I sent her to the movies, then I told her Mikie needs an agent."
He chuckled again.  "She should be in Virginia right about now..."

                              *   *   *

     "Lissen, Bub, ah'm gonna get ya a new job."  She filed her mauve
nails with a matching mauve nail file from her "so many men, so little
time--but take a number" tote bag.
     "Ruby!" protested a thoroughly harried and rapidly balding Michael
Hahn.  "I don't need an agent.  And I don't really think you should
have called the White House and yelled 'Show me the money!' at the
President."
     "Me an' Bill is buds, so don't ya pay it no nevermind.  Ah figger
they'll be gettin' in touch with ya any ol' time now."  She stopped
filing and looked him in the eye.  "Now let's discuss my fee..."
     "Oboy," said Michael.

                                   -end-