Thirty-Seven

The Cyclops sent the royal bag to sail the sky west over the bay.

"Not joking," said Brian. "Can't. Do. This. Won't want. To date. An ogre."

"Alas, how would Monsieur le Brian know?" said Spot. "Mademoiselle Princess approaches the age to consent to the indulgences of the larger world, no?"

"What. Do. You mean?" said Brian.

"I know the young women throw themselves at the man who leads the life of danger," said Spot. "With every breath you take, odds are he has no time to see you tomorrow."

"How do you get these broadcasts at our house?" said Brian.

"She may very well wish the affection of the powerful ogre to tell her things to do," said Spot. "And how does the Strange Banana Boy know this is not so? What does he know of how the appetites season in the teenage spinsters?"

"You cannot. Set her up. On a date. With an ogre," said Brian.

"My name is Monsieur le Brian," said the little dog. "I cry like the baby. Because the magic cloak undresses from me the magic beard. Le boo hoo."

"What?" said Brian. "I didn't cry."

"Le boo hoo," said Spot. "Le boo hoo hoo."

"Fine, fine," said Brian. "But if she doesn't like him, our one eyed friend will be very, very upset. One eye."

"Worry not, Monsieur le Brian," said Spot. "Monsieur le One Eye has ready for Mademoiselle Princess the bargaining serenade. Of the desperate and defensive masculinity. From whom she may receive at long last the permission to have what is hers."