“Holmes!” I whispered, “what on earth are you doing in this den?”

“Briefly, Dogoda,” he responded, “I am in the midst of a very remarkable inquiry, and I have hoped to find a clue in the incoherent ramblings of these sots, as I have done before now.”

Without hesitation, the world-champion dart-thrower pinned The Reporter’s ear back with three nicely-thrown darts. By the look in his bulging, lidless eyeballs, The Reporter was both flabbergasted by the enthusiastic applause and bemused by the riotous laughter.

A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM
by Edgar Allan Poe
1827

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Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
 
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

---

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The crowd outside The Court House sang, “Who-oo-oo-oo will love Alad-din Sa-ane?” in a continuous loop with the accompaniment of ecstatic dancing and crude musical instruments like toilet paper rolls. Many of these songsters wore multi-colored masks constructed of PVC pipe which they claimed were genuine Pre-Colombian artifacts.

“I chose Titan because the volcanic lava is not hot,” Dogoda said, adding, “it is the opposite of hot.”

I have a steadfast rule whereby I do not employ accomplices in my never-ending quest to fulfill all anonymous directives from The Wormhole. I will, on occasion, sub-contract certain duties to covert operatives—retained, year-round, by me.

“The Wormhole should not be confused with its distant cousin, The Black Hole, Your Honor,” said The Witness. “The Wormhole is for observational purposes only and may be explored only by myself.”

“No doubt, the location of this so-called ‘wormhole’ is known to no one but yourself. Correct!?!” queried The DA in a breathless falsetto screech; his quivering face swelling and turning a dark plum color.

Perry stood and said, “I say, Your Honor, must we be defiled by such behavior?”

The Judge noted the attorney’s comment and ordered The DA [Ham Burger, Esq.] to proceed without melodrama.

The Witness continued: “We were sitting around a waning campfire, silently staring into the anemic flames when a moose charged—full-speed and snorting—from 20 feet away out of the trees to our south-southwest. I let loose with an ear-shattering Wilhelm Scream and danced on the fire while my companions tried in vain to reason with the moose. I then poked the moose in its left eye, turned and ran north-west, leaving my mangled companions behind for the M. E. or the wolves. As I ran, I persistently sniffed the air for any hint of grizzly bears in the neighborhood. By the light of the New Moon, I bumped into the trunks of many mighty oaks…..”

The DA said, “Hold it right there. Back up. Back to your ‘mangled companions’ as you called them.”

The Witness said, “Okay.”

“Why were you wearing a ski-mask that day?”

“That is an urban myth, Hammy. No basis in fact. None.”

The Judge banged her gavel and announced that it had become late. She banged her gavel again and adjourned the proceedings until morning.