*
Archie Typhus and the Jungians were playing in Purgatory. Merrili disguised his arrival in a puff of smoke. He sat at the bar and ordered a bloody mary. He drank it down quickly, then retired to the men's room so that he could drink the shaman's potion in privacy. But the men's room was full of men. He left and went in search of a place where he could be alone. In the basement he found a little room full of bags of dirty white uniforms and linen, and machines that whirred and hummed beneath dripping pipes. The room was small, uncomfortably warm, but private. He sat upon an inverted basket of straw and quickly drank down the contents of the bottle. It stung his throat and made his eyes water, for it was very harsh. But as the bitter liquor coursed through his veins, the pain he felt was exquisite, for he knew that it was his means to true love and an immortal soul. His scales dropped away, his tail and horns vanished, his delicate, pointed hooves were replaced by those awkward plates of flesh that humans call feet. Merrili blacked out.
When he came to, the first thing he saw was the face of his beloved princess. She was squatting by his side, holding his two hands in her own and rubbing them vigorously. He watched gratefully as she fetched a glass of water from the sink and brought it to him, inviting him to drink.
"You don't smell pissed,' she said. "Neither do you look like a junkie. Besides, you haven't got the gear for it. But what on earth are you doing here in the laundry?"
Merrili had no idea what she was talking about, and while he was still racking his brains for a reasonable answer, she continued, "Did someone attack you? Were you mugged?"
"Mugged?" he answered, but Delia did not hear the question mark in his voice.
"Oh, you poor bugger. Did they take everything? Looks like it. Oh dear. Well, you obviously can't stay here. Look, I'll call you a cab. Where do you live?"
But Merrili had no home, so he could only look sadly at his feet, which he noticed were naked, as was the rest of him, except for a sheet that the dear princess must have wrapped around his body while he was still unconscious.
She helped him to his feet, for he was still rather shaky. He took a step ... and as Wherewithal had warned, the pain was terrible. He cried out against it and, as he did, vowed never to show such weakness again.
"God, kiddo! Naked and unconscious in the laundry, and what have they done to your feet? I can hardly turn you out onto the street alone." She paused thoughtfully, drawing her brows together. "You'll just have to come home with me. But just don't go getting any ideas, okay?"