Or so I thought. I looked around the lot, but saw no sign of Eddie. A few cops milled about watching over a crowd of protesters. A group of Communists sold books about Cuba, some guy in heavy makeup stood waving a sign about gay rights, and on a stage at the far end of the lot, an old graying Sixties' throwback accompanied by two pretty young women was reciting poems protesting just about everything. The banner in front of them read, "Church of the Presumptuous Assumptions."




I knew that every minute I stood there, Eddie might be getting further away, so I jumped up on stage and grabbed one of the mikes. I told the crowd that my Japanese brother-in-law who had just moved to this country had gotten lost and that I needed to find him. I described Eddie. The church's leader, Reverend Clint Newton (who looked like he could have been the brother of that bum I kept running into during "The Sanctuary" case) yelled at me to stop using up his protest time and tried to push me off the stage.

Just then, I saw Eddie in the distance attempting to blend in with the protesters in the lot. I jumped down from the stage and ran after him, but he lost himself in the crowd. I went back on stage, just as some heckler with a big sign reading, "Read the Bible while you're able" finished calling the women in the Church "spawn of Satan." Out of desperation, I revealed the real reason I was chasing Eddie. As soon as I mentioned that Eddie had smuggled drugs, the Reverend grabbed the microphone back and started preaching that drugs should be legalized anyway. Then he insisted that if I wanted to share his stage, I had to read one of his damn poems. I agreed, only because the stage offered a great vantage point for spotting Eddie.

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