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“NOOOOOOO! LEAVE MY GIRL ALONE!”

Winterly looked over and saw a terrified woman, nude save for an apron and some slippers, racing toward him as fast as her fluffy, baby-blue feet could carry her. He furrowed his brow and wondered what could possibly have upset the woman so severely, then abruptly realized.

He was the outsider. A ‘clothist’.

Offering candy.

To a naked little girl.

“No,” he said, more to himself than anyone else, and then turned to the distraught mother. “No! You don’t understand!”

Then he saw the man who’d been gardening moving quickly toward him with an open pair of shears.

“No, I’m not…” Winterly began, then thought better of it, leaped to his feet, and ran.

“Stop him!” Yelled the gardening man. “STOP THAT CLOTHED PERVERT!”

Morgan and I fought our way through shrubs, weeds, and undergrowth, over hills, and fences, and yards, to eventually stumble—exhausted—back to our hotel. Quietly slipping around the building and in through a side door, we finally allowed ourselves to relax for a few minutes and catch our breath.

Morgan used his valuable breathing time to whine about being half-naked. All along the way he was so afraid someone would see him pantsless, he just wouldn’t shut up about it, and I couldn’t muster the breath, or energy, to make him understand that this was the one place where nobody would ever care.

I guess I really couldn’t blame him. Plainly, I hadn’t entirely grasped the concept myself.

With things now obviously, and distressingly, ended between Ms. Nuckeby and me—whether I understood the reasons or not—I was eager to get out of this town and back to my world, as Wisper was always referring to it, as if it were—literally—some alternate dimension. I suppose in many ways it was.

Something deep inside me ached, savagely, for Wisper, and I figured distance was the first step toward killing the sensation before it killed me.

As Morgan and I were sneaking through a hallway, undetected, heading for the stairs, I remembered Mindie’s chocolates and cursed to myself. It didn’t really matter to me if I made her happy or not, but I figured I should at least do everything in my power to prevent conflict. Lord knows I’d have enough of that for several lifetimes. And now, of course, she was the only other woman in the world who had ever even shown visible interest in me. Minimal interest, asexual interest, but interest nonetheless. I mean, there must be some reason she wanted to marry me. Best to keep things comfortable between us. Or at least less agonizing.

“Morgan. I need to go to that little store they have in the hotel lobby. I have to get chocolates for Mindie.”

“Why?”

“Because she asked me to.”

“She won’t even have sex with you.”

“I’m not really sure I want her to.”

“Then why are you buying her chocolates?”

“Are you coming with me or not?”

“I haven’t got any pants!”

“Morgan. We’re in a nudist village, in a nudist hotel, surrounded by nudists who don’t fucking care!”

He hesitated, wounded by the anger in my voice, looking at me like a deer who’d suddenly realized that those bright things coming toward him are attached to a hood, a metal grill, a heavy engine, and eighteen deer-grinding wheels.

“I have a small dick,” he whined.

I stared at him, stunned, and, as tears moistened his eyes, sympathy gradually welled within me.

“People will see,” he whispered sadly.

“Oh, Morgan. It’s not that bad,” I lied.

“A girl laughed at it once. We were about to have sex. She asked if it belonged to Ant Man.”

Suddenly, the true story of the lost night with Nightcrawler-girl began to take shape.

“She called it a flea trying to escape the hair on a barbershop floor,” he said, almost breaking down.

“Wow. That’s really…um…even when it was…you know…erect?”

“It’s just small,” he said, a sob escaping his quivering lips.

“Oh,” I said. “Man. Well—you go ahead and go on up to the room then.”

“Wendy’s there.”

“I’m sure Ms. Waboombas will…”

“…laugh at it, too. Guaranteed.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. So what do you want to do?” “I don’t know. Buy me some pants.”

“Where?”

“I don’t