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Show Jeffries, Section 3, Page 27 The colored man ran across an island, grabbed an empty blue barrel and slammed it down in front of the lead car, but danced back a step when he saw that he'd bruised the fine honeycomb on the Cadillac's grille. "This lane's closed, heah? We closed. Go back where y'all came from." With the thud of heavy metal, a Cadillac door closed The Grand Pooh-bah of Irate was out, snuffing at the salt air, and looming like a brown palm above the raging attendant. The only noise was the pumps ahead, chiming their little decimal tune. "American gas stations," the counselor said thoughtfully to his Pooh-bah, "They're sending us the gold of Ophir. . This is maybe somebody I should write about, Dory thought. A firm hand came down on the company shirt, half-friendly, Dory thought, avuncular, but the Kingfisher winced. "Look, my friend, I have a bird to find. Much fishing to do. Much vacation to. . .spend myself upon. You will oblige by playing the simple role that Allah has given--" "What kinda jive talk--?" But the Kingfisher was melting. . .there was an ancient memory rustling, such a beaked-nosed, palm- |