[pshrynk]

Howard Hughes was a happy man. Well not so happy as if he'd actually gotten a cabin on a luxury liner to get back to New York. One of the squirrels had, apparently, lifted his wallet, so he was forced to get passage for what he could get by selling his luggage. The tramp steamer was badly in need of a good scrubbing.

But he was rid of the Goose and the infernal M.A.R.V.I.N. for good. He could sleep well at night now. And he would, just as soon as he could get to sleep.

He dipped his brush in the bucket of soapy water as the steamer left port. Three square feet adequately clean and only ten or so thousand more to go. He whistled happily to himself as he counted in his head how many strokes he put into each squared off area of the deck.