Poor Pixie

Regular Synaptic Discharge (it sounds grosser than it is, really) readers will remember Elf and Pixie, the cute-as-a-button bike couriers we contracted. Things were going okay at first. But then there was the snot rocket incident, followed by the wine bottle confessional, and finally, the last straw, the blue polyester leisure suit crisis. It was too much for Elf. He packed his bags (and, apparently, Pixie's LPs) and boarded a bus for Phoenix (and free inpatient detox).

That left Pixie alone with his puppet-show schemes and rock-star dreams. And a lot of rent to pay. I would have offered to hire him to do some personal services at my place (you know, cooking, housecleaning, backrubs) but I knew he wouldn't want to tarnish his professional bike-courier reputation. And I don't take rejection well.

But Pixie is still with us and doing ok. We don't talk about the candle wax incident though.