Free Pet Peeve by Piers Anthony Page A

real talents? That gave him a wild notion. “I am impressed. Maybe you can help me.”
    “Sure. But my friends don't last.” The twins faded out.
    “I am looking for something and don't know where or how to find it. Would any of your friends—”
    “Sure.”
    An older woman appeared. “Hello, Goody. I am Mysteria. My talent is to create what is needed, but I don't know what it is or how to use it.”
    Goody wasn't sure about that, but maybe it was better than nothing. “Would you be willing to create what I need?”
    “Certainly.” An object appeared in her hand. She proffered it to him.
    Goody looked at it. It was a small statuette or a large key in the shape of a person. “Thank you.”
    But Mysteria was already fading out. The object, however, remained.
    “Uh, may I keep this?” he asked Olive, who now had the baby back.
    “Sure. It's yours.” She resumed crooning.
    “Thank you.” He walked back to Hannah and the peeve.
    “About time!” the bird carped. “Day and night passed waiting on you, you slacker.”
    So the effects had been real for the others too. Those were truly remarkable imaginary friends!
    “Any luck?” Hannah asked.
    “Some, but I'm not sure what kind.” He showed the statuette. “This is what I need.”
    “What does it do?”
    “I don't know.”
    “How do you use it?”
    “I don't know that either.”
    “What an ignoramus!”
    “And is its purpose and application clear to you, peeve?” he demanded as he pocketed the object. That shut the bird up, for a while. “Well, maybe the answers will come,” Hannah said dubiously. They walked on. They came to a field of hot crossed buns that looked delicious. It was midday, so Goody picked one and bit into it.
    The thing puffed into foul-tasting smoke in his mouth that burned his tongue. “Yuck!” he exclaimed, blowing out a blot of smoke in the shape of a cross.
    “That's a hot crossed pun!” Hannah said. “Are you going to be emitting smelly puns for a day?”
    “I think I spat it out in time.”
    “I hope so. The bird's bad enough already, without that.”
    “What do you call a big drum carried by two nuns?” She looked at him suspiciously. “Is that a—”
    “A conundrum!” he said. “Co-nun-drum.”
    “Ugh! You swallowed some of that crossed pun!”
    “I suppose I did,” he agreed ruefully. “I think I got it all out now.”
    “What a stinker,” the parody said with satisfaction. “Got any more?”
    Hannah peered ahead. “There may be real food across that river.”
    Goody looked. “But how do we get across? I see colored fins.”
    She nodded. “Not worth trying to swim. But there must be a way.”
    They walked along the bank, and the colored fins paralleled them. Those were likely loan sharks, eager to take an arm and a leg if given opportunity.
    A woman was sitting on the bank, flipping small coins to the loan sharks. “Don't feed the fish!” Hannah said. “That will make them lose their fear of man.”
    “There are no men here,” the girl pointed out. “Do you need to get across?”
    “Yes. Do you know a way?”
    “Of course. I am Brigitte. I make bridges appear. That's my talent.” Brigitte—bridge-it. Goody wondered if the girl had partaken of the hot-crossed puns. “We could use a bridge.”
    Brigitte gestured. A bridge appeared, spanning the river. “Welcome. That's why I'm here.”
    “You call that a bridge? I've seen a better span on lace!”
    “Really?” The bridge disappeared.
    “It's the bird!” Goody explained. “It imitates my voice to insult people. It's a fine bridge.”
    Brigitte looked unconvinced.
    “Try it yourself,” Goody said desperately. “Take the bird on your arm and listen.”
    “Oh, all right,” she said. “But I don't believe it.”
    The parody hopped onto her lifted wrist. “Did you ever see a snottier looking goblin girl?” her voice inquired. “You'd swear she's a man in a dress.”
    Brigitte nodded. “Now I believe.”
    “Would you like to adopt