Copyright 1993(c)

               IF YOU PAY PEANUTS, YOU GET MONKEYS

     "Yo, Freeman!"
     "Yes, Ruby, what is it now?" asked David Freeman who was
busily compiling the latest issue of Ruby's Pearls to be
distributed.
     "About this elecmag stuff."
     "Yes? What about it?" asked David.
     "Well, you got a pretty good thing going, ain'cha? I mean, you
got all these sites that get it and readers that read it and stuff,
ain'cha?"
     "We have some interested readers and some wonderful writers
who contribute to the elecmag, Ruby, but we're a long way from
national fame and glory. It's a constant struggle to spread the
magazine in a wider arc. Why?"
     "Well... I been thinkin'," said Ruby.
     Freeman shuddered. He reached for the Nuprin bottle and
quickly downed a handful. A thinking Ruby was a scary proposition.
He watched her warily.
     "I mean," Ruby went blithely on, "I been hangin' around her
for two years and what's in it for me? A girl's got to eat, you
know. The only money I been able to glom outta' this is what I can
filch from drunks. Quarters is nice for the jukebox, but they don't
pay the rent, you know," she said.
     "Ruby, you don't pay any rent," David observed. "You do not
exist," he pointed a finger at her. "You are a figment of my wife's
imagination, for God's sake, and she should have never been that
heavily medicated in the first place. Go away!"
     "You want I should go away? Lemme' tell you, bub, if I go away
you're liable to find yourself doing a soft shoe of your own.
Somebody's got to entertain the troops," Ruby huffed.
     "We have plenty of entertainment for the "troops," as you call
them, Ruby. Are you under the misguided delusion that people read
Ruby's Pearls to keep up with your antics, because I can tell you
they don't by a long shot. There are some fine short stories from
superb writers in Ruby's Pearls and as far as I'm concerned, you
are merely the necessary evil of my wife's fevered brain."
     "Oh yeah?" said Ruby. 
     "Yeah!" said David.
     The two glared at one another. 
     "What's going on here?" asked Del Freeman, noting the
adversaries toe to toe as she entered the room.
     "Ruby wants a raise," David said flatly.
     "So? Give her a raise," Del said.
     "Hell, we don't even give her a salary," David pointed out.
     "Well, then give her a salary," Del dismissed the point.
     "Ruby wants a raise! Ruby wants a raise!" whined the subject
of the discussion.
     "Here, Ruby," said Del, fingers flying over the computer keys,
"how's this?"
     "Yeah!" said Ruby, eyes aglow. "That'll work."
     "You shouldn't have done that," predicted David as Ruby
exited. "There'll be nothing but trouble from here on in."
     Del merely raised an eyebrow at him, turned and left.
     "Douchebag!" he muttered, returning to his work.
                               ***
     "A round of drinks for everybody," Ruby announced as she
entered John's Diner that afternoon.
     Cosmo held up a restraining wing and gazed about the
restaurant. She flashed her basting brush at him and he laconically
indicated Ruby could have a seat at the counter.
     "What's put you in such a good mood?" asked John Chambers.
     "My talent has finally been recognized and I have received the
reward I have so long been due," said a proud Ruby.
     "Don't tell me Clinton has included the free shock treatments
in the health care package," said Cosmo.
     "You know," Ruby observed, narrowing her eyes at the offending
bird, "Julia Chillbain has a neato recipe for fricasseed parrot in
her new cookbook, "Off With Their Wings", said Ruby. She turned
back to John, and continued. "I'll have you know you're looking at
the proud recipient of $40,000 Ansibucks every single month for my
valuable contribution to Ruby's Pearls," she bragged.
     "Well, er,... that's ... just ... uh, wonderful, Ruby!" said
John, glancing nervously at Cosmo. "Why don't you let me buy you
a drink in celebration?"
     John whipped up a lemon frappe, the closest he could come to
Ruby's beloved lemon schnapps, and poured her a Buckler. Cosmo
watched her sip and snorted.
     "Wha'dya making them nasty noises for?" she demanded. "I knew
you'd be jealous."
     John signalled Cosmo to silence with his eyes. Cosmo
conveniently neglected to look in John's direction, and merely
puffed out his chest.
     "So? What? Tell!" demanded Ruby.
     "I really shouldn't," demurred Cosmo.
     "Oh, come on. What? You got a new cuttlebone? Your lady friend
parrot down in Coconut Grove finally decided to give you a tumble?
What? I know it's not as good as my news, but I'm feeling
benadryl... benign... friendly-like," Ruby said.
     "That's benevolent, you twit," Cosmo corrected.
     "Whatever," said Ruby.
     "And that, my dear, is why I make the big bucks and you have
to mooch quarters from drunks in order to see any real money,"
Cosmo announced. John dropped his head to his hands, shielding his
eyes.
     "Wha'dya mean, big bucks?" Ruby demanded. "What would a bird
do with money? Don't tell me *you* get a salary?"
     "And just how else do you think I maintain that sleek little
sports car at the curb?" asked Cosmo, indicating the Barbie doll
version of a Corvette.
     Ruby stared at him. She turned her attention to John Chambers.
"Is this true?" she demanded.
     John gave ever the slightest nod of his head.
     "How much?" she demanded.
     "Now, Ruby," John tried placating her, "does it really matter?
I mean, isn't the only important thing the pleasure the two of you
give to readers? Money is just a measuring stick, you know -- a way
of keeping score," he reasoned.
     "That's right, Jack," said Ruby, "and I aim to have the
highest score. Come off it," she insisted, "how much does the bird
make?"
     "Mumbledy-murf dollars," whispered John.
     "What?"
     "Sickeldy-three dollars," John repeated.
     "HOW MUCH?" shrieked Ruby.
     "$60,000 Ansibucks," John confessed.
     "$60,000 FREAKIN' ANSIBUCKS??!" repeated an incredulous Ruby.
     "Plus mileage," added Cosmo.
     Ruby turned red. Bright red. She stomped her heel. She looked
at John, who refused to meet her eyes. She looked at the satisfied
smirk on Cosmo's face.
     "Stop that, you feathered phoney," she demanded. "Birds can't
smirk! You pretentious puffed-up plate of fowl. Where's Raoul when
you need him?"
     "We had to let Raoul go, Ruby," John admitted. "He drugged
Cosmo last week and had him laid out in a baking pan next to a
zucchini when we caught him."
     "And a zucchini's too good for him," Ruby judged, glaring at
the offending bird. "Wait here!" she ordered, and flounced from the
restaurant.
     "You had to mention the mileage, didn't you?" John asked in
a defeated tone.
     "Hey, I didn't tell her about the dancing girls, did I?" asked
Cosmo, in an affronted tone.
                               ***
     "Yo, Freeman!" Ruby fairly shouted. "Did'ja know that stupid
bird makes a salary? Did'ja know he gets mileage? Mileage, no less.
I ain't even got wheels," Ruby complained, hands on hips, piranha-
filled spike heels tapping irritably. "Wha'dya gonna do about it,
huh? Well?!"
     David looked at his nemesis. He pondered. He thought of
calling Del but decided she'd give away the store. He decided he
could handle this crisis alone. After all, he was smarter than a
virtual reality creature dreamed up by his wife, wasn't he?
     He invited Ruby to take a seat and laid out his proposal. She
jumped at it like he expected she would. The two signed a contract
and Ruby left -- the high point of his day! He went back to putting
the magazine together, imagining the response she would get on her
next visit to the diner, which he figured would be immediate. He
hummed a little song as he worked. Del wandered by the door and
thought she recognized "Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead" from the
Wizard of Oz.
                               ***
     Ruby tooled up to the diner on her new Harley. She removed her
helmet as she entered, and pirouetted around to show off her new
leather body suit. She whisked the aviator-type sunglasses from her
face and grinned at Cosmo. 
     "Yo, fluffball," she greeted him, "did'ja get lucky trollin'
in that play car yet?"
     Cosmo brushed his nails against his chest and declined to
answer, as any gentleman would.
     "Hi'ya John," she greeted the proprietor of John's Diner. "I
see you waited just like I tol' ya' to."
     John, who could be found at the diner during any given day,
declined to point that out and merely nodded.
     "Well, I got news. Great news. News that'll give that stupid
bird a case of the molt that'll leave him shivering on chilly
nights, I tell you," she bragged.
     "Now, Ruby, this is not a contest," John began, "and...
     "And nothin," Ruby declared. "Ya think I'm gonna let a bird
do better'n me? A bird, for God's sake? That's what you are, you
know," she turned to Cosmo, "you're a bird. Nothin' more. Just a
freakin' bird."
     Cosmo did an impromptu soft shoe, gathering a round of
applause from the patrons. He raised his eyebrows at Ruby.
     "So, you're a bird that can dance," she acknowledged
grudgingly. "I, however, am a star!"
     Cosmo and John waited for the punch line.
     "I'll have you know I now make $80,000 Ansibucks every issue.
I also am supplied with transportation by my employers, who provide
not only mileage but insurance and the whole bit. And that," she
went on, "is only the beginning."
     Cosmo and John still waited.
     Ruby looked at both triumphantly. She simulated a drum roll
with a set of silverware from the counter and spread her arms.
     "Gentleman, I have a title," she announced. "They tried to
give me "Star of the Begonia series," but I wouldn't settle for
anything so paltry." She hesitated for maximum effect, and then
rushed on, looking directly into Cosmo's eyes.
     "Bird," she said, "you are looking at the Queen of Spain. How
do you like them cherry tomatos?"
     Cosmo gave John a disgusted look. He went to the phone. As
Ruby made her triumphant departure, revving her Harley and all but
drowning out Cosmo's voice, he could be heard asking to speak with
his adviser, F. Lee Baileywing, Esquire.
                               END