The Kiva, Pueblo Bonito

[Malaclypse 666]

A head popped out of the grass. Then shoulders. The owner of said parts spied the source of bewilderment.

"Hey, Doc! Over here, Chief! We're below ya." The head disappeared.

A change of viewpoint. Two booted feet appeared, searching cautiously for the rungs of the ladder descending into the Kiva. As Holliday reached the Kiva's floor, Mal took one look at the formal Discordian attire Doc had chosen for his visit. Without a word, he raised the seat of a nearby circular bench, took out a spare pair of swimming togs, and held them out to the bemused Ambassador.

"These should fit, John. I was about to steam the place. Young Skripto and I need to 'lose' some cerveza obscura, or we'll be too muddled to continue the interview.

"Oh, have you met our new Acolyte and investigative journalist, Gypsie Skripto? Gypsie, this is Doctor Ambassador John Henry Holliday, Administrator of the TAZ. John, Gypsie."

Mal scampered up the ladder, and slid the Kiva's 'door' into place. He poked at a control panel, powering up the firepit's newly-installed induction coils, and within minutes the Kiva was filled with a thick, intense cloud of steam. He chuckled as the two men gasped, struggling to get their lungs accustomed to the moist atmosphere. A touch of sage, and a touch of 'Gold', and the gasping subsided.

"Let's go off the record for awhile, Gypsie. John, what can I do for you, sir?"

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