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It was Mindie.

She had run in from somewhere and had apparently launched herself onto a food table, ravenously inhaling anything that hadn’t fallen to the ground in her mad assault. Then she dropped on all fours and began eating some of that.

She was mostly naked, except for the rags and leaves she still had wrapped around herself in a poor effort to conceal the bits no one wanted to look at anyway as they were still mostly covered in boils, blisters, and rashes.

“I took off my clothes for food,” she howled, snatching a hot dog from an innocent—and naked—child, “so I get some!” She bit away more than half the frank, and its bun, then shoved the poor, crying toddler over. “I took off my clothes for food, SO I GET SOME!”

Ignoring the little one screaming on the ground, Mindie jammed the remainder of the hot dog into her mouth, sliming her hands and face with remnants of bun, garnish, and meat. Growling, she moved on and continued to wolf down everything she could reach. A man braved potentially serious injury and raced in to rescue the kid, as Mindie the monster’s eyes darted about, wild and threatening, burning holes into anyone who might be contemplating the bravery, or foolishness, necessary to stop her. She even took a few swipes at some of the closer nudists, who squealed in fear, then withdrew as far as they needed to be safe, while still staying close enough to get a good, clear view of the action.

To their credit, the cops broke free of me and ran over to take Mindie down. They encircled her, she swatted at them, and when that failed to frighten them off, she threw food.

“How far the mighty have fallen,” Helena said, with only marginal sympathy. “Obviously, she is not handling her disinheritance well.”

“What?” I asked, stunned. “Disinheritance?”

“Turns out the main reason—maybe the only reason—she wanted to marry you is because her father kicked her out of the house. Felt she had some growing up to do.”

I looked over at poor Mindie, clawing at the policemen trying to restrain her with one hand while she reached for a pie with the other, and watched as the three sailed over a picnic table, through the potato salad, and into a fountain just beyond.

“I believe he was right,” Helena concluded.

Incredible how a little nudity had made everything more visible today.

Then, suddenly, it hit me like Washburne’s toe in my temple! This was my chance.

I grabbed my pants, Wisper’s hand, and called to Waboombas.

“COME ON!” I yelled.

And we ran.

Me pulling Wisper by the hand, Morgan pulling Sophie by the arm, and Wendy pulling River by the wee-wee.

It was several moments before Boone and Washburne tore their attentions away from the nude Las Vegas road show extravaganza starring Mindie The Monster, and noticed we had escaped.

“Hey!” Washburne said in that irritating voice of his. “Hey, they’re getting away!”

But no one pursued. The cops had decided there were more pressing matters at hand with Mindie, and they continued wrestling my former fiancée for all they were worth, pinning her down and lying on top of her. The way they struggled, you would have thought she was a loose, vicious crocodile, and not a doughy, pampered, rat.

“Your penis is touching me!” I heard her wail behind me. “YOUR PENIS IS TOUCHING ME!”

Had things progressed as she intended, those were likely the same words I would have heard on my wedding night, and far beyond.

Then, seeing no one else was coming after us, the auburn-haired girl and her coterie of friends lit out in hot pursuit, resuming the wild chase that had begun on the beach.

“Where are we going?” Wisper asked, astonished, somehow naïvely expecting that I had a plan.

But this time I did.

Barney was standing beside some woman’s car, absently cleaning her windshield and charming the pants off her. Which was pretty easy given that she was already bare-assed naked.

Wisper, Morgan, Sophie, River, Wendy, and I raced past him and scooted around the edge of the station office toward the impounded automobiles,