Chapter 5

As Miffy pondered her next steps and Donna and Jenn mulled over the next few days in their minds, Jared was busy (as usual, he would tell you). After making sure the animals were secure at the nearby Briar Oak Farms in Egg Harbor Township, he headed back to the restaurant to join the women. When he got to the crowded parking lot, he was forced to search for a parking place. It seemed the entire population of the small burg had turned out for the biggest thing to hit town in anyone’s memory. He was finally forced to park in the lot of the convenience store just north of the restaurant on US 9. As he strode toward the entrance to the crowded restaurant, he was approached by a woman in a navy business suit. She seemed to know who he was as she strode confidently to him.

“Jared? Hi, my name is Tiffany Gustafson. I work for CBS News as a special assistant to Katie Couric Can we speak for a moment before you go in to join your wife and her friends?”

Jared was a bit startled to be known by such an important person but managed to stammer, “Uh, sure. I guess. I mean, if you want to.”

“Let’s talk out here before you go in,” Miss Gustafson said as she took his arm and led him around the corner of the building. “I know that you have been doing most of the logistical work for this trip and have been responsible for much of its success. Ms. Couric has been following he progress for the past couple of weeks and I know she is impressed by the 3 Amigas, but she is also impressed with the work you have done, Jared.”

Her flattery was having exactly its intended effect on him. He was beginning to have difficulty concentrating, what between Miss Gustafson’s perfume and hearing that Katie Couric knew who he was. When Tiffany placed her hand on his arm, leaned a little closer and began speaking just above a whisper, the race was over and Jared had lost.

“I know that as you get closer to New York, even more attention will be coming your way. It can be really crazy there and Ms. Couric and I are ready to help in any way we can. I know that Donna and the others want to make the concert and if they are dealing with all the media and interview requests that are waiting for them, they will be overwhelmed. Have you hired a media consultant to manage the demands on your time yet?”

Jared knew she was speaking Truth. He had hardly been able to keep up with the arrangements for meals and lodging as they got closer to The City. He couldn’t imagine Donna trying to cope with all this other stuff, and knew from the last trip that Jenn was likely to get them all arrested if they left it to her and her temper. Miffy was a foreigner, so she didn’t know how things worked here. So that left it to him, and he knew he was over his head. It seemed he was being offered a lifeline.

“Er, no,” said Jared, while thinking again how sweet Miss Gustafson smelled, how soft her skin looked, and how wonderful her voice was in his ears. He had never heard a New York accent before (although Tiffany was from South Dakota) and it sounded musical to him.

“I was afraid of that.,” she said as she reached down to get into the briefcase Jared hadn’t realized she was carrying and had set down at her feet. A shot of adrenaline spiked through him as her movement revealed the navy lingerie she had on under the ivory blouse she wore under the suit.

“Wow. Northern women sure are sophisticated,” he thought, having never actually seen anyone wear lingerie in “real life,” other than the white his wife always wore. Come to think of it, he hadn’t actually seen ANY other lingerie in real life other than what Donna wore (you couldn’t really count the stuff the dancers in the strips clubs he, Ike and the guys sometimes went to just before they took it off).

Tiffany pulled a business card out of her purse and handed it to Jared. “Just tell Simon we spoke, otherwise he wouldn’t take your call. He’s the best in the city, Jared, and he’ll take care of you.” This was a lie. In fact, CBS had already contracted with Simon for situations just like this. There were hundreds of people a year that became instant celebrities, with their ten minutes of fame. The growth of the celebrity life/gossip magazines such as People, Us Weekly, Life & Style and In Touch had created a demand for “real people” stories,” and those real people could turn into money makers for the news organization that got to them first. Think back to Baby Jessica (who fell into the well and was rescued), Tanya Harding, Susan Smith and her husband, the coal miners stuck below ground and just about all the guests on the Ellen Show. Ordinary people that captured a country’s fancy, however fleeting. Get those people on with Katie Couric and that will do nothing but help her ratings. Plans had been made for Tiffany’s interception three days ago, when word of where they would meet first surfaced on Donna’s blog account of the trip.

“Make sure to tell him you are a personal friend of Katie, too. He has had such a crush on her for years. Do you think you will call him tomorrow?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so,” was the best Jared could muster.

“I know you will be glad you did. Can I ask you something else, Jared?”

“Okay.” He was putty in her hands by now and she could have asked for anything and gotten it.

“Well, as I said, Ms. Couric and I work together on a daily basis and she has been wrapped up in your wife’s story. Do you think that she could maybe meet Donna? It would mean a lot to her and help me, too.”

Jared couldn’t believe it! Katie Couric, who knew his name, wanted to meet Donna! Even though Jared watched Bill O’Reilly, he knew that Donna would FREAK OUT to be sought out by Katie Couric.

“I’m sure Donna would like that, but we are getting really busy, as you said. When did you think that should happen?”

“How about if Katie interviews the 3 Amigas on her newscast live tomorrow night? Didn’t the blog indicate that you were planning a trip to Atlantic City? We could do a remote from outside the Trump casino. I have tickets to the Blue Man Group matinee show you could use. How about it? It would really help me out.” Tiffany said as she placed her hand on Jared’s arm and moved her hair behind her ear with the other. Her smile was about the most sincere and sweetest thing Jared had ever seen.

“I’m sure Donna and her friends will really like that,” Jared said. “Especially when she learns that it will help you, Tiffany and that Katie Couric knows who she is.” Jared could not get over the way Tiffany’s hair seem to glow in the light raining down from the billboard over the parking lot which none of the travelers had noticed yet – the Ford billboard which featured Jared’s likeness looking out the window of his new F-350 with bold letters that read “DONNA RIDES, BUT JARED HAULS ASS WITH HIS 2009 FORD HEAVY DUTY.”

“Great. So it’s settled? One more thing. Can you do me a favor and sign this release for us? We have to have one on file before we can broadcast anyone’s likeness on TV. Just sign right here on the bottom… that’s it. THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH. Oh Jared, I knew that I was going to like you even before we met.” Her soft, tender lips kissed his cheek and then she was walking toward the waiting limousine. Jared was riveted to his spot until the blackened windows closed her away from his eyes. He almost forgot how hungry he had been just a few minutes before. He headed into the pizzeria.

Meanwhile, back at the Oriental Market where he had parked, a heated discussion was taking place. P’chei (pronounced Shay) slide her fingers through her frosted hair while speaking to each of the others, staring into their eyes seemingly without blinking.

“Look, our opportunity is here now. Did you see how crazy it is starting to get around them? If we don’t do this now, then we won’t have another chance. Tomorrow there will probably be at least six satellite trucks waiting for them for the trip to Atlantic City and after that they will never be out of a camera’s lens. My Blackberry is telling me that paparazzi are leaving Paris Hilton to follow these three. You know we have to do it tonight.”

Mark exhaled slowly, pushing all the air from his lungs. He knew P’chei was right. She was always right. It just scared him to hear her say the things she was saying and call him out on his beliefs. He waited to hear what Allison had to say. He didn’t have to wait long.

“You are absolutely right, P’chei. And JC called me a few minutes ago to say they are all checked in. The handlers have about finished with the cleanup and rub downs, so if we don’t act soon, they will be down for the night.” JC was Allison’s boyfriend and he worked at Briar Oak Farms. Allison had been using him for sex for about a month now and he would do anything she told him to. Mark knew the feeling. P’chei had the same effect on him, even though it was probably worse for JC. At least Mark was getting some breathing room, now that P’chei was no longer working for his boss, Pamela Anderson. With P’chei no longer accompanying her everywhere she went. Mark was getting some time away from P’chei whenever he flew Miss Anderson anywhere away from NYC. At first he hated the fact that P’chei wasn’t around, but he was starting to realize that life can go on after a breakup, no matter how much you loved your partner. He also was beginning to wonder about P’chei’s sanity. How many people would quit such a glamorous job as being Pamela Anderson’s personal assistant over two strips of fur?

Only one that he could think of, and it happened to be his girlfriend.

It seems that P’chei had seen Ms. Anderson wearing boots topped with a real fur collar as she came in from a night of partying with Tommy Lee. Tabloids were reporting the two were planning to marry (again!) and P’chei was disgusted that her boss would abandon her principles over a piece of ass, no matter that TLee had the biggest “drumstick” she had ever seen. But a principle is a principle and P’chei couldn’t see forsaking one for a piece of dick. So she quit the job she had held for the previous eight years. She had called PETA about it, too, but they didn’t seem to be impressed with her story. The person on the other end of the line had acted as though Pamela wearing the fur wasn’t newsworthy, although P’chei was sure the public cared and would criticize the buxom star’s action if they knew about it.

P’chei was speaking (rapidly) again. “What they are doing to those animals is inhumane! There is no way that those burros are ready for the psychological damage of riding into New York City and it is just wrong that that poor llama has been forced from its homeland to America. It is up to us to take care of this.” She had hardly touched her vegetarian entrée. Mark was looking at it hungrily. He was dying to have had one of the best hot oven subs (grinder) that Jo Jo’s was known for, but since he and P’chei had started sleeping together about eight months ago, he had maintained a vegetarian façade. She was so worth that….

Chapter 4

The first ten minutes the women were together was as intense of a gabfest as ever witnessed since Mary told the disciples about the empty tomb. But as hunger and anxiety overtook each of the 3 Amigas, they retreated into themselves a little bit as they ate in silence.

As Miffy listened to her two good friends catch up with each other, she wondered how to break the news to them. She had spent most of the past two weeks wondering the same thing, both while awake and while sleeping. The unpredictability of both Donna and Jenn was troubling Miffy as she looked first at the Virginian and then the New Mexican. Her thoughts raced back across time and the Atlantic as the ambient noise of the normally quiet neighborhood pizza parlor receded in her brain.

Charles Parker Howell was Miffy’s oldest client, both in age and longevity. Mr. Howell had been a strong advocate that Miffy step out on her own after spending nearly ten years working for his former tax-advice provider. When he finally told Miffy that he was leaving her old firm with his business and placing it either with her or another competitor, he succeeded in goading her off the mark. The next week she had established her company, given her notice and made one of the first independent moves of her short adult life.

Charles Parker had known Miffy since before her birth. In fact, Howell had known her mum since before HER birth. It was Nan that had first attracted the attention of Charles Parker, some seventy five years before. Miffy’s grandmother was three years older than Charles Parker and she had been a beautiful young woman. His shyness had kept him from speaking much with her as they both grew up on the outskirts of London. When he finally worked up the courage to ask her to dance at the fall festival, she was very gracious in the manner in which she declined. She was in attendance with another young gentleman, whom she would later marry. Rather than a cold rebuff, she engaged Charles Parker in conversation until the other man’s return with their drinks. Nan introduced Charles Parker as if they were old friends, rather than the mere acquaintances they were. When World War II broke out shortly after that, it was Nan’s image that carried Howell through the terrors of war; it was her generosity and kindness that he fought to defend against the Axis powers each day. After the war was over and he returned to the village, he renewed his friendship with both of Miffy’s grandparents, as they had all come through a terrible hardship. Charles Parker Howell became a successful entrepreneur, starting and selling dozens of businesses while amassing a very substantial portfolio.

Two years ago, when Miffy returned from her first American Adventure, Howell couldn’t wait to be brought up to date with all that had happened. His mind had an insatiable curiosity about things and he loved to hear about things he hadn’t experienced. Given his advanced age and wealth, there wasn’t much he hadn’t. He was very impressed by the story of the shared tattoos the Amigas had. In fact, he was the only person in the immediate family (figuratively speaking) that Miffy had told about them.

Shortly after her return, Miffy had acquired her cat, Dude. Mr. Howell had been surprised to see the feline walking through her home office during one of their “advisory” sessions. He knew more about British tax law than Miffy thought she would ever know and he was the only client she met with in her home.

“Miffy,” he began after Dude rubbed against his tweed trousers, “I thought you were allergic to cats.” He did, indeed know all about her. She and her siblings were as close to grandchildren as the old man had. He never married, although to this day he asks Nan if she has changed her mind every time they see each other.

“I am, Uncle Charles. But this cat is from Abby’s cat. That cat is the only other cat I have ever been around that didn’t make my eyes red and itch. When she had kittens, Allison (Miffy’s niece) insisted I have one since I wasn’t allergic to them. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Oh, wonderful isn’t the word for it.” The business man was already in full gear, thinking that surely there was an opportunity here that needed exploration.

Two weeks later he rang Miffy up and told her to bring her cat and herself to his London office for a very important meeting two days hence. When Miffy arrived (she never questioned Uncle Charles when he wanted to see her), she was surprised and a bit offended to be introduced to three genetic scientists that the old man had arranged to be there. At first she thought he was trying to set her up for a blind date, something he had never done but everyone else in her life had been doing with much more frequency lately. As a lifelong bachelor, Miffy assumed he would respect her decision not to marry even if the rest of the family thought that she just hadn’t found the “right man.” She had found him alright. The fact that he had been married was the first obstacle for her. She respected his wife and the institution to have never acted on her feelings. Both of them had danced on the razor sharp edge of that blade, but hadn’t been cut by it yet when he died in a tragic accident. Uncle Charles had laughed heartily at Miffy’s first thoughts when she shared them with him nearly a year later. But this first day, at this first moment, Miffy had no idea his real intentions were to get the men and her cat together.

“Miffy, I have a feeling that your cat is an extremely special animal. I have asked these gentlemen to examine Dude and see if my suspicions are true. May we have your permission to look him over and take blood and hair samples?”

Miffy loved animals and was not about to allow scientific experiments to be performed on her beloved Dude.

“No one touches my pussy but me,” she exclaimed while cradling the pet tight to her.

“Miss Miffy, your uncle believes that your cat has a genetic difference to other felines which allows you not to be allergic to him. If this is so, and if we can identify which gene it is, we may be able to propagate his bloodline in such a manner that would allow others to have the same loving relationship with cats that you have with Dude. I promise you that he will not be harmed in any manner.”

Miffy had finally agreed to the tests and examination. On the way home, she stopped to purchase the electronic cat door she was having installed the next day. An ingenious device, the door release was activated by a magnet worn on the pet’s collar, allowing him to come and go from the house without Miffy having to open the door, yet not allowing other animals access.

The day after the door’s installation, Miffy was warming some tea in the microwave while she and Dude wrestled with the collar which contained the magnet. The collar was big on the tiny kitten and it appeared to weigh him down. Suddenly the kitten’s mews of protestation were completely drowned out by the loudest BANG! that Miffy had ever heard and all the lights in the house going out. The only illumination in the small kitchen was coming from her microwave, which was ablaze. Miffy extinguished the fire with her kitchen fire extinguisher and turned her attention to Dude, who laying dazed on the floor below the counter the microwave rested atop. Dude slowly came to as neighbors started knocking on Miffy’s door.

“Miss Miffy! Miss Miffy! Are you alright? Lightning struck your house and we were afraid it had caught fire!!”

After assuring everyone she was fine and being shown the blackened circle on the wall outside her kitchen (exactly on the other side of the wall from the toasted microwave), Miffy had gone back inside to plan how to get her house back in working condition. She certainly wasn’t about to use the contractor who had so frustrated her when she renovated the kitchen the year before! The meeting with Uncle Charles and the three scientists was pushed onto a back burned in her mind until the call came about three weeks later.

“Miffy, I believe we have some important things to discuss.” Charles Parker always said that when he wanted to come over for another advisory session.

“Uncle Charles, you know that I love you dearly and owe you my thanks for getting me started in business. I also know you have been talking me up to your friends and I probably have the largest geriatric tax advising business in the UK outside of London. But all these people are keeping me extremely busy and I am behind from the lightning strike. Can’t this wait until our appointment next month?”

“Young lady, if things go the way I think they might, you won’t be worrying about squeezing in some time for your old Uncle Charles. We could both be retired and having tea whenever and wherever you would like.”

Miffy had never heard the old man speak of retirement before although she had observed that his investments had been getting more short term in the past six months and he had been converting many of his holdings into more liquid assets. Afraid of the type of news he meant to tell her, she agreed to see him that afternoon.

Miffy was surprised when he arrived with the scientists in tow. The four guests made for a tight fit in her small living room.

“Miss Miffy,” the same scientist who had spoken before started things off, “we have been able to isolate the genetic makeup of your cat and there are some remarkable findings. Your Uncle Charles was right in his intuitions” (“He usually is” Miffy’s mind said as the man spoke.) “and it appears the your cat is, and its offspring will be hypoallergenic felines. In other words, the majority of those allergic to cats will not be allergic to yours. You are a truly fortunate young lady.”

This whole concept was quite vague to Miffy and her confusion apparently evident.

It was Uncle Charles coming to her rescue again. “Miffy, what these men are saying is that your cat is able to make you an incredibly rich, young, English woman.”

“Dude? Make me rich? How is that possible?” The absurdity of it all was starting to irritate her and give her a headache. Besides, she had all these clients’ files to pour through before Friday and here it was Wednesday afternoon already. “Uncle Charles, I am sure you mean well, but I haven’t time to play with these sorts of imaginings.”

Part of Charles Parker Howell’s reputation also included chasing wildly improbable scenarios to their very probable failure. Of course, it was the more than a few successes he had in relation to the failures that funded all these adventures. But Uncle Charles wasn’t going to be able to buy or produce any more time for Miffy this week and she thought of the time they were wasting here as some of the least productive time she would ever spend. Exasperated, she stood and stretched, forgetting that Dude had been sitting in her lap. When she had started to stand, he had leapt from his position to one on the top of the bookcase across the small room. The scientists that hadn’t spoken exchanged startled glances.

“Miffy, please sit back down. These men are interested in discussing a purchase of your patent for the genes in question. You remember, the patent that was filed for last week,” She had been in enough business meetings with Uncle Charles to know to follow his lead, however unlikely the direction he headed. It wasn’t worth the problems afterward to contradict the investor. “Now, on the phone earlier today, Mr. Rand, you mentioned a figure. Would you mind repeating it for Miffy, as I haven’t had the opportunity to review any of this with her?”

“Certainly, Mr. Howell. Miss Miffy, our corporation is prepared to pay you ₤23,000,000 for the rights to the patent, on an exclusive basis for twenty years. Of course you will still retain ownership of it after that period.”

Miffy’s head was reeling from what she just heard. Twenty three million pounds for an exclusive contract for a patent on a gene in her cat Dude? Was such a thing even possible? And when had Uncle Charles gotten a patent issued in her name when he didn’t even know he had a cat until a few days ago?

“I’m sure the young lady would like to take some time to think things over gentlemen. If you will leave us a copy of what you are proposing, I am sure we will be able to reach consensus on this.” Suddenly Charles Parker was acting as her advisor as he rose to shake the scientists’ hands.

Miffy was still in a daze and operating in a blur as her mind attempted to process the information she had just heard while she shook hands with the three men. One of the other two scientists finally spoke as they prepared to leave.

“Miss? May I ask a question about your cat?”

“I guess so,” Miffy replied in a way that suggested she was hearing him but still not hearing him.

“When you stood up a moment ago, Dude leapt from your lap to the top of the bookcase.”

“Yes, he does that quite often since the lightning strike.”

“Don’t you think that is a little unusual?” the man continued.

“I don’t know. I have never had a cat before and just assumed that was what they did.”

The two men exchanged glances again as the three headed for the Jaguar parked near the curb.

After they were gone, Uncle Charles explained to Miffy that when he noticed she wasn’t affected by her normal allergic reaction to Dude, he had made some calls. It turns out there is a huge business in the area of animal research especially when it comes to pets. Companies are spending huge amounts to learn all they can about the genes of domesticated animals and what the genes do. They are also gambling that the knowledge can be leveraged into human health, which would translate into a huge piece of the mega billion dollar market world wide. So he pulled some strings in the patent office to make it look as though Miffy had filed two months earlier than the paper he submitted last week. His contacts in the government were proving to be valuable still, even though he had outlived most of the bureaucrats he had dealt with over the years.

Half an hour after the scientists had left, Uncle Charles had managed to convince Miffy of the truth of the venture and she was making decisions that would change lives forever. Charles Parker Howell had arranged for Miffy to meet with his best financial advisors and lawyers to review the offer. When they determined its legitimacy and fair market value, Miffy decided to indeed license her patent on feline gene number AW6103910, for the purpose of genetic modification which will result in cats most humans are not allergic to. Based on her knowledge of British tax law, she knew it would be advantageous for her to hold her assets in a corporate structure.

So, barely two weeks after Charles Parker Howell had learned Miffy had an unusual cat, JDM, Ltd. was formed. It has three shareholders listed on its corporate records. Its headquarters are in Zurich, Switzerland and it has been paying dividends to its shareholders directly into the three numbered accounts in a Cayman Island bank, accounts that were opened one day before the corporation was formed, two days before the licensing agreement was signed by the president of JDM, Ltd. Yep, Miffy had signed the documents twenty months ago and had been struggling with how to tell her friends they were all rich.

“Donna is going to be happy for me and not want to take the money, even though she knows what it will mean for her family. Jenn, on the other hand, is going to go ballistic, saying that I made her save for airfare when she could have just ‘bought the gahdamn plane!.’” Miffy thought as she watched her friends finish their favorite Italian entrees.

Chapter 3

Jared knew that things were starting to get out of control. He was thinking this as he led Dusty, the ass and Miffy’s llama toward the trailer to be taken to the stables. It wasn’t really his fault, he reasoned as he walked alone.

Alone.

Dammit. It seemed he was always alone lately, even when he was surrounded by people. “Surrounded by idiots and asshats,” he thought to himself as he opened the door to the truck Donna knew nothing about.

It was bad enough that he agreed to that first trip when they had all come to his house. Fuck, he was getting text messages and calls on their cell phones from people he had never heard of, much less met, wanting to congratulate him and thank him for being “braver than I would be…”

That thought had stuck with Jared that weekend and had nagged at him in the two years since. Braver? How could he be braver if he went along with everything his wife told him to do? These cyber knuckleheads didn’t know anything.

Shit, it was almost six months before the guys at the tire distribution center where he worked third shift had stopped talking about that damn British flag those women had hung in front of his house while Miffy visited.

“Holy shit, Jared, you just let your house get invaded?”

“Damn, Jared. If that was my wife, no freaking way I am letting her have people we know anything about stay with us. That Mexican coulda been an axe murderer or something, like that Lizzie Borden.”

“Shee-it, Jared.” Ike always said that cuss word like two words. “Who IS your daddy?”

No, those words and others burned inside Jared like Pace Picante on Tostitos. So when the idea for this fucking ride came up, it was the last straw. Donna hadn’t been willing to leave this freaking valley for two years to go anywhere with him, but when these Amigas asked, she was all on board. Screw that. But Jared knew that it also presented him with his first real opportunity. Opportunity to make some changes. To make some money. And to make some tracks.

Many people from where they lived had never been further than Virginia Beach. They were satisfied to live a life close to home and things that had been valued through generations. Jared had always assumed that was how his life would go, too. But Donna had a streak in her that wasn’t satisfied with the status quo. She had pushed him to experience many different things before her phobia about the mountains took control. He knew the third shift job he worked wasn’t going to be able to produce enough money to satisfy her wanderlust if she ever got better. He, too, had developed a hunger to go beyond his life’s self-imposed borders and see new things. He watched the TV talk shows in the mornings after work. Those people on Jerry Springer and Judge Judy were living, even if they were sorta nuts. So when Donna asked him if he knew anyone with some burros they could rent for the trip, Jared went to work.

The second call he made after the Amigas decided on the timing of the trip was to Carhartt. (The first call had been to that son-of-a-bitch supervisor at the plant, telling him when he would be able to relocate that forklift key into a more secure storage place than the clip that hung from his belt – “shove it up you’re ass” were his exact words.) Jared had always wanted a Carhartt work jacket and now that they were signing up to be the Official Outdoor Outfitters of the 3 Amigas and support crew for the trip, he would get several. In fact, Ike had seen him in the first garment that arrived and been impressed.

“Shee-it, Jared. That is a helluva hunting vest. What did Donna do to get that for you?”

He wasn’t implying what it sounded like, but to Jared it still stung. Ike knew as well as Jared that ordinarily he would never have been able to spring for the $65 vest without a struggle with Donna.

The boys at the DC knew it, too, because of the numerous times he had complained about their fights. No, Ike wasn’t being mean. He was being honest. But it felt great to Jared to be able to answer him, as he finished the second cold beer at the bar where they all usually went after work. Of course, Jared had been there waiting for them at 8 that morning, since he no longer went to work. The boys were running a bit behind, according to his calculations, but that wasn’t unusual. Probably a big order from Wal-Mart had held them up and extended their night.

“Ike,” he started, “this vest is the beginning of the best time of my life. I have telling you guys I am getting out of this tired valley and now I am.”

Of course, he didn’t tell them he was doing it on his wife’s back as she rode out on a burro.

“Fuck ‘em. They can find out that part on their own,” Jared thought. “I’m getting far away from here,” he muttered to himself as he climbed into his shitty twenty two year old Ford pickup with 203,465 miles showing on the odometer. He had no clue how true those words would turn out to be.

In quick succession, Jared had arranged with Carhartt, Ford, Featherlite Trailers, Justin Boots, Wrangler Jeans and Wal-Mart to be supporting sponsors. This insured their clothes, support vehicle transportation and food would be covered. Secondary calls to Quality Inn, AT&T and Denny’s secured lodging, communication services and restaurants for dining. Dell came on as the “hi-tech” supplier of Jared’s laptop and MP3 player. There was also a Dell plasma screen TV waiting for him at the house when they got back. A friend of his that worked for Geico Insurance had arranged insurance coverage, provided certain steps were taken to publicize their involvement. They felt the gecko was getting tired. Jared had switched the family’s banking account to Capital One a month before the trip, telling Donna that the local Bank & Trust was failing to deliver the latest services to their community. Coca-Cola was their soft drink provider, Miller High Life was the beer he reached for at the end of the day and Goodies Headache Powder was the relief he needed every morning. Home Depot was their tool provider and Preparation H was the…. Well, you know what that was for. Ten hours a day on a burro can do that to a woman.

Donna knew none of this. She imagined that in his “supportive husband” role which he had always played, Jared was simply plunging them deeper into credit card debt. In the past she had willingly gone along with it. But now she couldn’t see how it was going to end for them in anything but bankruptcy. She couldn’t tell Miffy or Jenn about this, though. She NEEDED this trip. But it was on her mind as she spent those long hours on her ass. Jared had been pretending to go to work each day in the weeks since he quit, leaving at the normal time, arriving home in the morning just as he had been working that third shift job he had held since she met him. But now he was coming home with lots of new stuff he said they needed for her trip.

At least, she didn’t know it yet. As she, Jenn and Miffy dined on calzones inside Antonios, events were taking place that would challenge what any of them knew for sure about life, truth and trust.

Chapter 2

Her trek along the side of the road had made local news broadcasts as she journeyed up through rural Virginia and Maryland. Small TV and radio stations were sending the traffic and weather reporters so their editors could say, "See? I let you cover real news stories! Now leave me alone." Most professional news people thought that would be the end of the story.

...shortly into the trip, Donna managed to get her cellphone to send Miffy a picture of what her ass looked like so she knew what her mode of transportation looked like.

After lengthy discussion and a proper display of English obstinacy, it was finally agreed that Miffy would NOT be traveling on that ass! If she was to travel on a four-legged creature then she was traveling by llama. Donna was initially resistant to this idea, as she had memories of the earlier days when she was still in denial in relation to Miffy's love of the llama. Donna had believed that it was another Amiga Moment, a prank Miffy had concocted to make Donna seem foolish and gulliable. There had been many of those during that fortnight, all around. It was part of the Amiga Relationship. The three of these women could throw down insults on each other better than Don Rickles.

However, in the two years since Miffy's previous trip Donna had learned to overcome her llamaphobia. She had slowly learned to accept her inate deep down love of this creature - to the point where she was now an active member of the LPF (Llama Protection Front).

Donna had looked at her lengthy list of llama related contacts and found the one she was searching for. It was not long before the perfect llama was selected and its delivery arranged... allowing their adventure to continue in perfect harmony. Or so they thought.

Donna and Miffy met at a prearranged llama pick up area. They were very happy to see each other. There were many hugs and lots of giggles.
Miffy - "Nice ass."
Donna - "Thanks. And the donkey isn't bad either."
After Donna recovered from being beaten around the head for that particular remark, the pair set off on the journey to Atlantic City where they would meet Jenn.

In spite of her earlier protests, Miffy had truly gotten into the spirit of the journey and looked resplendant under her sombrero, clothed in the Carhart jacket, Wrangler jeans and Justin boots Donna's husband Jared had thoughtfully arranged. Donna noted that it was the same combination of clothes he had gotten for her, but she didn't say anything. She was still happy they weren't fighting while on the road and he had been very helpful so far. She was waiting for the other shoe (or Justin Boot) to drop at any moment. She hoped that it wasn't too bad in its timing.

It was a beautiful fall day and the warm sun felt great to both of them. By this time, Donna's pale complexion had begun to change. In spite of the wide brim of the sombrero and Neutrogena Age Shield SPF 90+ cream (another Jared contribution), her skin had developed that certain glow being outside brings. Miffy had applied liberal amounts to her English skin as well. As they rode down the shoulder of the lonely country road, catching up and enjoying each other's company, laughing the deep laugh of friendship, neither of them noticed the black sedan that passed them several times within an hour.

Miffy could not get over the growing media attention, though, as a different reporter would pull along side of them every hour or so to ask similar questions -
"Why are you doing this?"
"Is this normal behavior for you?"
"What does your family think about it?"
"Have you been contacted by any members of the band yet?"
"What did you think of our town?"

She commented on it to Donna, who had grown used to the building attention and found it a nice break in the monotony of a day in the saddle. In fact, Donna hadn't even noticed that the numbers had risen beyond the one or two a day that started after her first show - AFI.

"Why are all these wankers coming to talk to you like you have done something? And don't you get knackered answering the same questions all the time?"
"No, not really. But you want to know a secret? Sometimes I tell them different answers!"
"Donna!"
"Only a few. And besides, when you have been married as long as I have, you are used to having the same conversation day after day after day. Oh, and I did get a message from Steve Isaacs. He told me he thought it was awesome how I was overcoming my fears and shit. But I can't tell anyone about it."

Their conversation drifted from topic to topic while the afternoon passed until finally Miffy felt compelled to ask Donna whether she thought Jenn would be satisfied with being the last Amiga to join the trek, especially since there had already been quite a bit of publicity.
"Probably not," Donna answered. "We both know that Jenn usually has something she would change about most situations."
"Quite true," mused Miffy while remembering her initial trip to America and its video chronology. "But maybe we can make her our official spokesperson for these media people that keep coming around. Unless you have your heart set on giving out bad information?"
"Nah," Donna told her while keeping the sombrero low and tilted to the left side of her head to keep the late afternoon sun from getting in her eyes. "We'll let her do that. I am getting tired of these women in their perky suits."

Between the text messages, blog entries and telephone calls, the 3 Amigas had kept each other updated on all that was transpiring (at least all they were aware of). They had also traded information with many friends that belonged to the same message boards they did. Because of the isolation of being on the road all day, neither Miffy or Donna was aware of the cyber-buzz their journey was creating. It wasn't until Jenn called with the latest news that they began to grasp what was happening.

"OMGawd! You fucking won't believe the IM I got today! Guess what it said?"
"Jenn, we never guess anyway. You should just tell us." It was Miffy pointing out the obvious again.
"Bite me, bitch. Ok, so I have told like, everyone about this trip, right? All my blog bitches know and everyone on the board. But today I am at work and Mario isn't looking and I sign on to AIM and all of a sudden GAHDAMMIT TOM MOTHERFUCKING GREEN IMs me!!!! Can you believe it????"
"Yeah, right." Donna said. "Tom Green? What did he want? To interview you on his Internet show or something?" Donna was sure she had just made the most outlandish joke she could.
"YES!"
"What?"
"YES! He knows I am meeting you guys in Atlantic City and he wants to do his show remote from there! The day after tomorrow!"

Tom Green, the comedian, had turned into an Internet media mogul over the past two years. At first, he had conducted talk shows and interviews from a room in his Hollywood home and streamed them over the Net. Freed from the censors and good taste, his shows were renowned for breaking new territory. After Dave Navarro had made an appearance on the two hatched the idea for Thursday Night Sluts, things got really crazy for them. TPC fans had been complaining about the distraction the new media was for their favorite guitarist. For Green, however, it had proven to be a boon. He had leveraged the popularity of the shows into a small fortune, being one of the first to jump on the direct marketing possibilities of the Internet. His production costs were very low and he was reaching a narrow (but desirable) demographic. Advertisers and competitors all wanted a piece of his market. And it seemed he wanted the 3 Amigas!

They had arranged to meet up with Jenn late in the afternoon following a night spent camping in Camp Henopen State Park, near Lewes, Delaware. That day got started on the wrong foot when Miffy and Donna both discovered they preferred Camp Holiday Inn to tent camping. Donna's husband had been acting as an escort for them along the way, arranging care for the animals, meals and lodging for the women when they stopped. This had not been part of his plan, however. Miffy was the one that suggested it, saying that was one part of her dreams about America that had not been fulfilled in her trip in 2006.
"I saw a yellow school bus, ate in a diner, shopped at Wal-Mart and went to an amusement park. We drove the mountain roads, got tattoos and hung a Union Jack in front of your house. But we didn't go camping. I want to camp!"
Jared stepped back and let her and Donna make those arrangements.
"We can ride the ferry across the bay and it will save lots of time, plus there is apt to be less traffic on those country roads, " Donna reasoned when telling him of their plans.

Awake in the early hours of the day, it had taken quite some time for Donna and Miffy to get over their night in the small tent. Complaining of back aches, each accused the other of snoring and keeping them awake. Actually, it was probably the bullfrogs and whipporwills that prevented sleep, along with the mosquitos buzzing in their ears (which always seemed to happen just before they fell into deep sleep). It had been a miserable night.

Neither of them had expected commuters on the way to the ferry. Their poor animals were pretty nervous with the amount of cars whizzing by as they traveled along Cape Henlopen Drive toward the ferry docks. The wide shoulders made it easier to stay out of traffic, and the flat sandy terrain along the roadside made it less intimidating than the mountainous terrain Donna had traversed, but still. Car after car after car going past was unsettling.
"It's too bad Jenn missed out on last night," Miffy declared sarcastically as they neared the turnoff. "Im sure she would have had lots to say about all the wildlife and noise."
"Nah," answered Donna as they turned right and walked through the low iron gate. "Jenn knows about wildlife and noise. Trust me."

One factor that hadn't been worked out in advance by the women was whether or not the animals would be allowed onto the ferry. At first they were denied access by the operators. An argument ensued which nearly resulted in their arrest, especially when the guards accuesed Miffy of cursing at them in a foreign tongue.
"I'm from bloody England!" she screamed redfaced at this point. "We speak English and nothing I have said to you is in any other language than that! Why would I speak another language when it is clear that you can't even speak English?!"
Miffy would later acknowledge that she had indeed used some slang that would be "fighting words" back home, but the poor guards had had no idea the meaning of the phrases. The end result of all the confusion was the sailing of the 9:15 ferry without them. Which meant it was 12:45 before they had boarded and departed. They were not more than twenty minutes into the eighty minute crossing when they learned that llamas don't sail well and that llama sea-sickness closely resembles diarrhea. A trailing breeze from the south kept the ferry in the cloud of stench for most of the trip, prompting other passengers to begin to suffer from human sea sickness. As the cars rolled off the watercraft at the dock, an unprecedented mixture of smells and liquids washed into and under their vehicles. Parking lots all across the south Jersey shore had more than one person looking at the bottom of their shoes. The day became infamous in small town lore.

The trip up US 9 was also getting more and more difficult. The population density was growing rapidly after they passed the intersection with Route 83 near Townsend Sound, so the attention they were receiving was increasing exponentially as well. Cameras and crowds were waiting for them at most of the busy intersections. Shouts of encouragement and welcome were mixed with exhortations by religous zealots that they change their ways and turn away from Satan. Almost every special interest group in the US political scene was represented in some form or fashion as the afternoon moved to evening. And just as they were nearing their meeting place, things started getting really crazy. When the animals clomped into the parking lot of Antonios Jo Jo's in Northfield, the women were greeted with a phalanx of satellite TV trucks and people which overwhelmed the small parking lot.
"BBBBIIIIIIIAAAAAATTTTTTTCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHEEEESSSS!!!!!!! YOU'RE LATE!'''
Yep, Jenn was already there. Donna and Miffy could see their decision about who would be the group's spokesperson was totally unneeded.

Chapter 1

Those two weeks in the fall of 2006 had changed lives. To start with, all of the 3 Amigas have tattoos which in one way or another commemorated their time together. Coded dates and cryptic references in 2 of the tattoos contained all three of their initials. A third tattoo that applied during that weekend when they all got together was hidden (usually) under another's hair. They were, without question, bonded for life. Brought together at first by an interest in star musicians, their friendships had bloomed into something much more that an appreciation for Dave Navarro. So when Navarro's band, The Panic Channel, had announced they would actually tour and play shows in New York City, it was natural that the three would begin to scheme and dream about an opportunity to recapture some of that buzz that had occurred during Miffy's American Adventure.

But two years is a long time and much can change in that time. For Miffy, it was time to go back across the Atlantic Ocean and write Chapter Two of her American Adventure. Her health was as good as it had ever been, her cat Dude had settled into his life in her cottage nicely and Miffy was restless. Frequent jaunts into London to see major rock acts soothed her some as well as awed her American friends, but she couldn't get that time she had spent in America out of her mind. The freedom, joy and rejuvenation she had experienced was something she hadn't known since before her health turned and personal challenges that some were refer to as tragedies had invaded her life. Fall 2006 was an indelible memory that had altered her life, although if pressed she would not be able to explain how, really.

Jenn had traveled further than she had ever imagined was possible for her weekend away, in more ways than one. Leaving her son behind had been difficult, but the benefits she derived from that time with her two amigas was still paying dividends. Life had suddenly become more intense, with sensations and joys easier and richer. What had been SO traumtic before was now something that could be rolled off her back like rainwater on a duck. The young mother had mellowed, although she would call you crazy and threatened to kick you in the nuts if you suggested it to her. But the trip from New Mexico to Virginia had been cathartic for her and the two year interim had given her time to build up sufficient pressure inside for another adventure. Her son had been to visit Donna's family (they had sons the same age) and Jenn felt the urge to continue with her life's adventure, too. New York City was an unrealized dream whose time had come.

Donna had perhaps had the most difficult adjustment. Her oldest son had graduated from high school in June and was making plans to leave the nest. Her other son was preparing for fifth grade and certainly was no longer reliant on her for everything. Her husband continued to work nights and their time together, while precious to both of them, was awkward. And then there was the mountain thing.

Donna had never enjoyed living on the edge of the mountains. Born and raised there, in some ways they formed a prison wall she couldn't scale. Whenever people came to visit her in that part of the country, she felt obliged to take them to see the scenery visible from the park roads with the scenic turnouts. But the stress on her had been getting worse and now it was impossible for her to journey out of her corner of western Virginia by car. The routes through the hills and/or mountains created uncontrollable panic attacks which were accompanied by sheer terror. She felt trapped and could not get anyone in her family to understand. She had made excuses for the last few years why she could not go on vacation. She couldn't get time off from work. There wasn't enough money. She needed to help Scott get ready for his move to college. The reality was that she didn't want to experience the feelings she had when the 3 Amigas went up in the mountains that day. She didn't want to remember grabbing the wheel of the car while Scott was driving, nearly killing of them while while turning her greatest fear into reality - plunging through a guardrail and plummeting several hundred feet down the mountainside through heavy forrest.

No, Donna had been more or less content to stay in her town and live out her life through the worldwide contacts she had made on the Internet, especially through The Panic Channel's message board and her other friends. Donna lived vicariously through her other Amigas' stories and revelations about the things they were doing and seeing. She was plugged into the web and all the music of the world was available to her through the high speed connection she insisted on keeping whenever her husband brought up the idea of saving money by getting rid of unnecessary expenses. Her life seemed stuck to her and she would rather give up dessert than cut off her link to the outside (exciting) world.

So it was with great anxiety building inside that Donna read an email from England. Miffy had decided the recently announced The Panic Channel show in Madison Square Garden two months hence would be the perfect time for the Amigas to have a reunion.

"We can meet other Panic agents there, too." (Agents was how fans of the band referred to themselves) "Like Peebs and NYFan and others. I bet Angel will come, too, if we give her enough advanced warning. Plus who knows who else might show"

The next day the email still burned in Donna's mind's eye. Not that she wouldn't want to go; no, New York City was certainly a dream for her. If there was a TPC show involved so much the better. The problem was the damn mountains.

Miffy sensed there was something bothering Donna when they were chatting on the internet the day after sending the email suggesting NYC as a reunion site. Over the years of communicating through instant messages with Donna, Mffy had learned to read her moods through Donna's choice of words. That and the amount of contribution she made to chat rooms. If Donna wasn't happy, it wasn't hard to see. She wouldn't be rude or contrary. Instead she just retreated a bit while sorting things out. It was apparent to both the other Amigas while they chatted.


Miffy (9:25): OMG I am so excited about the show. I was checking air fares and I think I can do it this time!
Jenn (9:25) : Fuck. I won't have any money until I pay off getting my car fixed.
Jenn (9:25) : OH!
Jenn (9;25) : Did I tell you about the new sunglasses I want to get?
Jenn (9:25) : They fucking rock and they are only $250!
Jenn (9:25) : I know I won't lose them or break them if I pay that much for them!
Miffy (9:26) : Jenn, you could use that money for a plane ticket...
Jenn (9:26) : Eh. Those bitches probably won't let me off anyway. Besides, that is past tomorrow and I refuse to think or plan about that far ahead.
Miffy (9:26) : Don't you have any holiday time left?
Jenn (9:26) : I used it when I when camping last weekend. OMG. That was the BEST.TIME.EVER. BITCHES!
Miffy (9:26) : I remember you told us.
Donna (9:27) : I think I remember it, too.
Jenn (9:27) : Shit. That was two days ago. I can't remember who I told. It rocked.
Miffy (9:27) : Yeah, that was the weekend I saw the Reunion. Although without George or John, I'm not sure how they still call themselves The Beatles. Although George's son was incredible and looked just like his father. I think Paul was only doing it for the money, though. He got totally screwed by Heather in their divorce, even if it took her three years. He had to give up three of his castles!
Donna (9:28) : oh
Jenn (9:28) : Castles! That reminds me of a fight I got in last weekend! This other bitch was talking shit to my other bitch and I was like, no way! She was all looking at me, like, you wanna go? And I was about to get in her face when my friend Nancy hit her!
Miffy (9:28) : How does that remind you of castles?
Jenn (9:28) : pffft. Bite me.
Donna (9:29) : I can see it....

Anyway, it was discovered in their conversation that each had mad desire to go to the show in NYC. But it still came back to the mountains and Donna's reluctance to ride out of the valley she was in. Finally, a couple days later, during a three way phone conversation, a possible solution was discovered.

"Fucking Donna," Jenn ranted. "I can't believe you don't want to come with us."
"I want to"
"Jenn, get off her arse," Miffy interjected. "I don't think she can ride out. You saw how it was with us. We nearly died."
"Gahdamnit Donna! You should ride a fucking burro to get there if you have to!"
"A what?"
"A burro! A fucking donkey. Ass."
"See? I TOLD you it was arse," Miffy interjected. Following along when these three started talking or chatting on the net was like listening to a foreign language.
"Seriously, though. All my people rode burros everywhere. Until we learned to steal cars. I'll even ride with you some if it'll get you there." Jenn liked to make light of her Hispanic heritage.
"Really? You would? Whay about you, Miffy? Would you?"

Suddenly, against all their better judgement, a plan was hatched. Donna was to become the TPC Burro Lady, and she would catch shows between Virginia and The Big Apple during her four week ride. Miffy would meet Donna in Delaware and Jenn would catch up in Atlantic City (she said she had lots of casino experience).

With only a few months to make arrangements, things took on a frantic pace. Donna arranged with a local tack supply store to have the TPC logo, or sigil as they preferred to have it called, embroidered into the four corners of the black saddle blankets each of their burros would have. All of her tack was purchased black, with silver metal studs lining the bridal and reins. Her saddle featured a picture of the band AFI painted on the seat pad. She told the other Amigas that it was a dream of hers to sit on their face....

Sombreros and vests were arranged (to make Jenn feel at home), sized for their different heads. Donna's was all black, with a ring of silver stars studded around the top of the brim. Miffy's sombrero was also black, but she had some fringe stitched around her brim; the one inch pieces dangled below the wide part of the hat. These fringe pieces alternated between red and white. On top of the brim, visible only to the helicopters that would begin following them as they neared Manhattan, was David Beckham's national team jersey number - Miffy always felt the footballer had been forced to cede his spot on the roster too early and for political reasons rather than diminished skills on his part. Jenn's sombrero was adorned with a plethora of sequins around the crown of the hat. It was a weird combination of urban fashion, ethnic chic and girly fashion.

When Donna was arriving to her fourth show outside Dover, Delaware, there was the (by now) usual staring at her as she guided her burro to the very front row of the parking lot, right next to the handicapped slots.

"Giddy up, Dusty, you ass," she said as she dug her black boots into the animal's sides. She had to be careful when she did this, as she learned the first day. If she pointed her toes at the ground while kicking, she would scrape her toes. Her burro was very short (like Donna herself).

A group of young rocker-wannabes was standing off to the left, waiting for the gates to open when she arrived.

"Whhhooooaaaa. She DOES exist! It's the Goth Burro Lady!"
"I told you, dude. She was at the show last night, too."
"Bro..... I just thought you were high."

The stoners stared as Donna jingle jangled toward the special entrance her husband had begun arranging for her at all the shows. He was amazing and surprising her more and more with his supportive attitude about this trip.