“My Goddamn trashcan!” roared this biblical figure.

“Excuse me?” said Jack, with exaggerated politeness.

“My Goddamn breakfast, you –”

“Sorry,” said Jack, and he rose with some haste to his feet. “We’re new to these parts, we had no idea.”

The biblical figure pushed past him and rootled around in the open bin. “You ate my cake! She said there’d be cake.”

“It was very nice cake,” said Eddie. “I’m not sure what flavour, but very nice nonetheless.”

The biblical figure turned his wild eyes back to Jack. “So,” said he, “a wise guy, is it, making growly voices?”

“No,” said Jack, “I didn’t – that was Eddie.”

“Eddie?” The wild eyes looked wildly about.

“Hello there,” said Eddie. “Pleased to meet you.”

The wild eyes looked down.

The wild eyes widened.

“There is some cake left,” said Eddie. “I tried to eat it all, but I’m ashamed to say that I failed.”

“For the love of God!” The biblical figure fell back against the bin and floundered about like a mad thing. Jack offered what help he could and eased him once more into the vertical plane.

“Get your Goddamn hands off me!”

“Only trying to help,” said Jack.

“Make it do it again, go on.”

“Sorry?” said Jack.

“That little furry thing, make it talk again.”

“I’m not a thing,” said Eddie. “I’m an Anders Imperial, cinnamon plush coat –”

“Holy Baby Jesus!” went the biblical figure, which was suitably biblical but somewhat blasphemous, because you are not supposed to use the name of Jesus in that fashion. “How does it do that? Is it on strings?”

“On strings?” said Eddie. “How dare you.”

“You’re working it somehow.” The wild eyes turned once more upon Jack. “It’s a Goddamn puppet of some kind, ain’t it?”

“Ah,” said Jack, most thoughtfully. “Yes, you’re right, of course.”

“Eh?” said Eddie.

“Knew it.” The biblical figure did a little dance. “Darnedest thing I ever saw. How much do you want for it?”

“He’s not for sale,” said Jack. “He has, er, sentimental value.”

“Eh?” said Eddie, once again.

“Shush,” said Jack to Eddie.

The ragged man knelt down before Eddie. “Cute little critter, ain’t he?” he said. “Though real ragged and he don’t smell too good.”

“That’s good, coming from you,” said Eddie, shielding his nostrils.

“Darnedest thing.” And the ragged fellow rose and did another dance.

“Well, nice as it was to meet you,” said Jack, “and sorry as we are about eating your breakfast, being unaccustomed to, er, trashcan protocol in this vicinity –”

“Eh?” now went the ragged man.

“We must be moving along,” said Jack. “We’re –”

“Carny folk,” said the ragged man. “Don’t tell me, let me guess from your accent. English, is it? Carny man from England, I’ll bet.”

“English carny man?” said Jack slowly.

“Here with the circus. I’ll bet this is one big midway attraction.”

“That’s right,” said Jack. “And we, er, I’m an English carny man and I should be on my way.”

“Can’t let you do that, buddy.”

“Sorry,” said Jack, “but I must.”

“Nope. I can’t let you do that.” And from a ragged pocket the ragged fellow pulled a knife. And it was a big one and it looked sharp.

“Now see here,” said Jack, which is what folk always say first under such circumstances.

“You ate my breakfast – you owe me, buddy. I’ll take your furry thing here in payment.”

“No,” Jack said. “You will not.”

The knife was suddenly very near Jack. What sunlight the alleyway gathered fell on its polished blade.

“You don’t really want to do that,” Jack said, which is another thing folk say in such circumstances – the brave, tough ones, anyway.

“Don’t I really?” The gnarled hand flicked the blade before Jack’s eyes.

“No,” said Jack, “you don’t. Because if you do not put that knife away at once, I will have no option other than to blow your balls off.”

“Jack, really,” said Eddie.

The ragged man did wild-eyed glancings downwards.

Jack held a pistol, aimed at the ragged man’s groin.

“Now what the Hell do you call that?”

“It’s a gun,” said Jack. “Perhaps you’ve not seen one before.”

“I’ve seen plenty o’ guns, fella, but that ain’t a real one – that one’s a toy.”

“It will cause you considerable damage at this close range,” said Jack.

“Oh yeah? What’s it gonna do, hit me with a little flag with ‘BANG’ written on it?”

“It does this,” said Jack, and he aimed the gun into the air and pulled the trigger.

And nothing happened.

Jack squeezed the trigger once more and then once again. Nothing else happened either.

“That’s odd,” said Jack, examining the pistol.

“Ain’t it just!” And the knife’s blade flashed once more before Jack’s face. “Hand me the puppet or I’ll cut ya deep.”

“But you don’t understand –”

“I understand this.” And the knife went up. And the knife went down. And the knife fell into the alleyway. And the wild eyes of the biblical figure crossed and then they closed and the figure fell to the ground.

Eddie Bear stood on the dustbin, holding between his paws the dustbin lid.

“Nice shot,” said Jack. “Right on the back of his head.”

“His conversation tired me,” said Eddie. “What a most unpleasant man.”

Jack took the lid and helped Eddie down. Eddie went over and bit the ragged man on the nose.

Jack said, “Don’t do that.”

“I think we had best be on our way,” said Eddie. “I’ll just bet they have policemen in this city too and I don’t think I want to meet them.”

Jack shook his pistol about. “This is really odd,” he said. “First the wristwatch, now this pistol. I wonder.” Jack pulled a grenade from his pocket and removed the pin.

“No, not here,” said Eddie.

“I just want to test a proposition.” Jack hurled the grenade and ducked. And Jack counted, too, up to twenty.

“Doesn’t work,” said Jack. And he pulled out his remaining weaponry from his pockets and tested it, too. And none of that worked either.

“This I find worrying,” Jack said, and Eddie agreed.

Eddie tested the gun that he had, and as this didn’t work either he tossed it away. “We’ll be in trouble when we finally track down our other selves,” he said. Miserably.

“Well,” said Jack, “looking on the bright side once again, given that amazing automobile we saw, I’ll just bet they have some really amazing weapons here.”

“Well, that we already know,” said Eddie. “Don’t we? The death rays and everything.”

“If they come from here,” said Jack. “Perhaps they came from Chicken World.”

The ragged man made moaning sounds.

“Time to go,” said Eddie.

They reached the end of the alleyway and looked out at the world beyond, the world of men. And men were moving now, out and about on Hollywood Boulevard. Well-dressed men and women, too. The men wore fedoras and double-breasted wide-shouldered suits. The women wore colourful dresses; they looked most appealing to Jack.

“Now, Eddie,” said Jack to the bear, “I don’t want you to take offence at this, but I think it would be better if I carried you. It would appear that in these parts talking bears are the exception rather than the rule.”

“I’d gathered that,” said Eddie. “I’m not stupid, you know. I’m as intelligent as.”

“Then if you’ll pardon me,” said Jack, “I’ll carry you, Mister Bear.”

And so Jack carried Eddie along the boulevard.

And what Jack saw he marvelled at. And not without good cause. The bright storefronts displayed wondrous things, things all new to Jack, although not perhaps new – different, maybe.

There were electrical stores, their windows filled with radio sets and televisions and record players and washing machines, but all of a style unknown to Jack, as were the garments in the clothes stores. Jack lingered long before a trenchcoat shop. Eddie urged him on.