Some days ago, I felt the need to crochet some doilies out of big yarn. Mo was still missing and I wanted to divert myself with something, because I had begun to worry. My plan was to combine the doilies into one big sofa throw or cover. I was examining one of the white granny-chic beauties and felt rather pleased, when I heard somebody coughing slightly behind me. I turned around to find a tiny grayish fella sitting on my sofa's backrest. "Hello, I'm Mister Bargain" he said, gave me a nod and continued: "I'm , the vacation replacement."
I stared at him. He was was wearing huge horn-rimmed glasses. They magnified his eyes disproportional to his little body, that was dressed in a worn out and clearly undersized pinstripe suit. His bald head was shining and his thick lips grinned at me eagerly before he started again, pointing at himself and speaking slowly: "I am Mister Bargain, I am the vacation replacement for Mo. She wanted to take some days off - you see - because she met this nice guy." Whilst he was speaking, his eyeballs were moving restlessly and made me feel dizzy. "Did you understand me?" he asked.
"So, you are a muse, too?" I noted.
He laughed: "A muse? Well, one might say so!"
Still wearing a question mark all over my face, I pointed to the doilies, lain out in front of me.
"Oh, that's not my business!" he said shrugging his shoulders. "I'm here to help you otherwise. Let's get started! Look deep into my eyes!"
I could not help but glance at him. His unresting eyeballs now had become pinball bullets in action. I only can remember myself asking: "What do you mean by saying Mo has met a nice guy?" then everything was wreathed in mist.
When I awoke, Mr. Bargain had disappeared and I was sitting in midst of a lot of rummage. Among others, there was a mid century wooden bench, an old lamp, two old writing cabinets, several kitschy decoration items, and a table from about the 1890's, lovely but in rather poor condition.