NINETEEN: WILLIE THE LIZARD AND BOTH OF HIS SPIES AGAIN

Willie the Lizard and both of his Spies are wearing disguise. They’re that kind of guys. Cyclops can see them and spot them and get them because she has eyes, she has forty eyes.

The Spies and the Lizard, they know things by watching. They know things by looking, and not by a wizard, the Spies and the Lizard. They do observation, they see around corners, they watch and they wait there, but they do not hate there. They look at the buildings, the hair and destruction, and draw some conclusions, the size of contusions.

“Do you know the flow and the go and the what and the from and the who and how true and the that and the fat and the leave it under your hat that is going on around town, around our Pome Town?” Cyclops asked them, Spies and Lizard, as if they could answer, as if they were blizzard.

“She-Cyclops, we know that you were a he but now you are she, but about town we won’t guess, I have to confess,” said Lizard the Willie (not his real name), in pain and completely.

“We know you, and we know your switcheroo, but about the wrecking and the drecking and the building and the kuilding, we don’t have a clue,” said both of his Spies (not their real names either), in and out of their disguise.

“We can say what we heard, and it might be absurd, but we don’t have the word,” said Willie the Lizord.

“But we might make a start by telling you of your heart,” said the Spies, those two guys.

“Don’t I make a delightful lady,” said She-Cyclops, showing off her skirts and her squirts and her lurts of hair and there.

“Um, hm,” said the Lizard and the Spies, and they are not so convinced, tho they no words they mince.

“You are so right,” said Cyclops, She-Cyclops, who isn’t so pleased. Cyclops has nice hair and a dress and perfume, but she is no Louise.

“What do you think?” said Willie, and as so many spies know, this is a good way to get to the heart of the heart of the matter of the matter. It’s the old question trick, and it very often works.

“I think,” said Cyclops, “that now that I am a woman, I no longer have anything in common with myself.”

“I could not have said it better,” said Willie the Lizard, and then he does say it better, with some mustache and leather.

“I guess this means surgery war,” said Cyclops, She-Cyclops, concerned and confused. She smells and she looks but she also feels used.

“I think you are thinking so right for the fight,” said both of the Spies, and they think they have it right.

Cyclops, She-Cyclops bids them now good-bye, for it is back to the road, low and high, low and high. It is back to the road to the surgery war, and the sun sets and rises, and with it come more crises.