They came into the Montana Bar, the Bartender, Suzy Q., the Oracle with the flashing antlers, and the heron in black. "Damn," said the heron, and turned back to the door. "Forgot the Irishman and the Scotsman." The Bartender turned him back around, and they all went over to the jukebox, nodded, smiled, and sat themselves around a table.

"Hey, Montie," said the Bartender. "Many, please."

"Land sakes," said Montie with a growl, "The girl from Sigma Chi," and went to work.

After a little badinage, the Oracle -- who was unused to circular tables and chairs with backs to them -- turned to the heron and said: "From your years of flying, is there anything you have learned from your unique perspective?"

G.B. looked at the Oracle and replied: "Many more people are bald on top than you might think."

Suzy Q. said: "I read in a usually reliable source that Kevin Costner has the most expensive hairpiece in the world."

There was general agreement that this was a travesty of the truth. Drinks arrived, and the heron, sipping his brew through a straw, proceeded to tell the assembled travellers about his trip to Betelgueuse, including the part about the jai-lai restaurant. It was some hours before they got back within striking distance of the parking lot.

The Bartender said: "G.B., if you are going to break the commandments out here in the West, you have to break them well or not at all."

The Heron, who was not doing very well, looked up through his spindly legs, not unlike a TV tray that had ingested too much Raid: "?"

"Owen Wister."