******

It was two very long days of driving, and I was getting tired. Well, we all where. Not to mention, the Tuba forgot to bring the ragtop to the Jeep and it rained for both days. I thought New Mexico was a freakin’ desert! We pulled over to a truck stop and hopped out of the car. Giles looked quite damp, and his spirits were waning. We forgot that humans need to eat, and well...you know... Then again, the Tuba was complaining that she had to empty her drain valve...wow, that was more info than I needed to know.

“I’m going to get a bite to eat,” Giles sighed, running his fingers through his wet hair, “We should have taken my car.”

“That death trap?!” the Tuba huffed, hopping around to the other side of the jeep, “I’ve read about THAT thing. No way. I may be made of metal...but I do dent.”

“And rust apparently,” he replied, hearing the creaking noises she made as she moved, “I’ll pick up some oil, while I’m there. Anyone else want anything?”

“Tuna sandwich please,” the Harmonica hummed.

I looked at her and buzzed, “You don’t even have a mouthpiece, how the hell are you going to eat anything?”

If she could have smiled, she would have, “A girl can dream...right?”

“Well,” the Tuba tooted, “While we’re on the subject of dreaming...anyone want to pick up a picture of Brad Pitt for the Bassoon? Or maybe some Prosaic? This depression is really starting to get to me.”

“I can’t help it,” the Bassoon said sadly, “That’s how I’m made. You try sounding like this, and be happy.” she then looked at Giles and winked a valve, “But if you do happen to find a picture of Harrison Ford, I wouldn’t mind.”

I hopped out of the car, and leaped into Giles jacket pocket, “Girls...go fig.”

He reached into his pocket and plucked me out, “Oh, no you don’t,” he said sternly, “You are NOT coming in there with me. Last thing I need is to be in a truck stop filled with big burly truckers, with a talking Kazoo in my pocket.”

“Oh,” I replied slyly, “Like dressing that way, will make you inconspicuous? Guess again. I don’t think half these guys even knows what tweed is, and the other half will think...well, I think the last thing you should worry about is little ole me. I’ll be quiet, I swear.”

Giles sighed, “Fine, you can come along. But one peep from you, and you’re going to be tossed out the window.”

“What are you and Mary M. in cahoots?”

While we went into the lion’s den, the other instruments decided to take advantage of our absence, and “stretch their legs”. It’s a figure of speech guys! Geeze! Anyway, even the Bassoon hopped out of the car, and walked around dusty road. The sun had only been out for an hour, but it was long enough to wipe away any traces of the inclement weather.

“Man,” the Tuba sighed, “I didn’t realize how much water collected in me. Thank god for a spit valve.”

“EW,” the Harmonica said, “That’s gross. Must you be so graphic?”

“Hey, would you rather me drown you all in the car? Then we’d never get home.”

“Home,” the Bassoon sighed, “I miss Donna.”

“What?” the Harmonic snapped, “She replaced you remember? If Kimberly replaced me...I’d steal all her maps. Oh, wait,” she chuckled, “I already did.”

“Those are her maps?” the Tuba said with a grin, “You evil instrument you! I like that in a person.”

The Bassoon looked toward the diner, where Giles and the Kazoo entered and sighed, “I wonder what they are doing in there?”

Giles walked into the truck stop diner and was immediately out of place. The stench of beer and over cooked food permeated the air, causing him to step back for a moment. It almost looked as though he was going to...

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna barf.” I said, “You had to have been in joints like this before, right? What about when you were Ripper? Boy the stories I’ve read about that part of your life...makes my blood run cold.”

“You don’t have blood.”

“Oh sure,” I huffed, “Point out the obvious. Well, come on, get your food, and oil and let’s get out of here.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Giles growled, “if you will just shut up!”

“Are you tellin’ me ta shut up?”

Giles turned around and looked at a very large, very ugly looking man. “N-no, no. I wasn’t talking to you,” he stammered.

“Then who the hell were ya talkin’ to?!”

I looked up at the man and couldn’t resist, “Man,” I hummed, “Someone in that guy’s family, knows someone in his family. Woo hoo! Either that, or he was hit with a very big ‘Ugly stick’.”

That comment got a firm hand to the pocket.

“What was that?” the ugly man snarled, “You talkin’ ‘bout my family?”

“N-no...I-I swear, I said nothing,” Giles tried to explain, “Why would I do that, I-I don’t even know you.”

“Damn straight!” He looked at Giles with squinty eyes, and added, “You talk funny. Like some God damn foreigner, or sumting.”

“I-I’m English,” Giles relied.

“Well, I don’t like you much,” the man sneered, “What are ya gonna say to that?”

“Hit him!” I murmured, trying to be heard through Giles’ hand.

“What?!” the man said, raising his fist. I guess I got through.

“Hit him!” I repeated, “I know you got some Ripper in you still. Come on, whack the guy right in the nose!”

“I’m not going to hit him!” Giles said.

“Who the hell are ya talkin’ to? You some kinda freak or sumting? You’s all freaks ovah there. Must be ‘cause you aint no democracy...”

“What the bloody HELL are you talking about?” Giles said, his hackles began to raise. Now this was the Ripper we all knew and loved. “England is a democracy. We have a Parliament, and free elections and...”

“And you’s got yourself a queen,” he said with a toothless grin, “What does she tell’s all you’s how to dress too?”

Now Giles was mad, “That’s it!” he growled, stepping toward the man, “You can insult me, you can even insult the way I talk and dress, but DO NOT insult the Queen!”

With that Giles swung back and hit the man squarely in the face. The big man toppled down to the ground, unconscious before he hit the floor.

“Way to go!” I cheered. Then I saw the other truckers get up from their stools and chairs, and began to throw insult, and threats our way. “I guess we must have hit one of their gods, or sumting.”

Giles eyes grew wide as the mob approached. He quickly turned and raced out of the building. We could hear the angry people, if you could call them that, giving chase. Giles motioned to the others, who were still out and about, “Get in the car!” he shouted, “Get in the BLOODY car!”

“What’s going...” the Harmonica started, then noticed the growing number of angry citizens following behind them, “Oh! Right. Tuba....your turn to drive! NOW!”

The Tuba, Harmonica, and Bassoon quickly hopped into the car, and started it up. Giles gave a leap, as the car took off, landing in the back seat, onto the Bassoon, “Ooomph!” he exclaimed, quickly getting off her, “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled, for the first time the whole trip, “I don’t mind.”

“Did you get the oil?” the Tuba asked.

“Just shut up and drive!!!!” we all shouted back, as the diner disappeared behind us.