Free TVA BABY and Other Stories by Terry Bisson

that perhapsthings were going to work out after all. She picked out a taco salad. It was only $6.25, but when Lou pulled out a twenty to pay, the cashier held it up to the light. “This is counterfeit,” he said. “I’m calling the police.”
    “I should have known,” said the pretty girl.
    “It’s the batteries,” said Lou, showing her the dead video camera. “Without them, crime doesn’t pay.”
    “So, replace them,” she said.
    Lou explained the problem. “It takes triple E’s,” he said, “and there’s no such thing.”
    “It must be from some alien planet,” said the girl. “I never liked your style anyway.”
    Then she walked away, prancing like a cat, leaving the unbought taco salad behind. Lou didn’t follow her. It was over, he could tell. He could hear sirens. He walked home alone.
    His apartment was lonelier then ever. It felt more like a hideout than a home. Not only did Lou not have a girlfriend, he didn’t have a job anymore. His money was worthless. His Crimestoppers™ video camera was no good anymore and it was one to a customer. His computer was totally demolished and to top it all off, his cat was dead. That one shot had done it in.
    The police were pulling up out front. The pretty girl was with them. She had apparently led them to his hideout.
    Lou locked the door and sat with the dead cat on his lap. Its fur was still soft in places. Soon he felt better. “So what,” he murmured to himself. So what if he had failed, and he had to admit he had. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
    04/24/2008/02:47 p.m . The police were breaking down the door but Lou would never forget his adventures with the Crimestoppers™ video camera. And he had learned an invaluable life-lesson. Now at least he knew what the problem was.
    It had something to do with his style.

A Special Day
    T he immense lobby was almost empty. It was a Monday, after all, not a big day for tourists.
    “Oh, Honey, where did you get that?”
    “I picked it, Mom. Isn’t it pretty?”
    “Yes, but you aren’t supposed to pick them.”
    “It’s OK,” said an older man in a full-dress fireman’s uniform, who was waiting for the elevator with them. “It’s a daisy.”
    “Isn’t it pretty?”
    “It’s a doozy of a daisy,” the fireman agreed with a sad smile.
    “Please excuse her,” said the little girl’s mother. “We’re visiting from Indiana and this is our first trip to New York City.”
    “Welcome, then. Ladies first!”
    The doors opened and they all crowded into the car: a little girl and her mother in bright pastels, followed by a sad-faced fireman; then two young men in jeans, an older man in Arab dress, a Marine in uniform, and a lawyer in an Italian suit.
    “Step to the rear of the car, folks,” said the elevator operator, a gray-haired woman of sixty-five.
    The little girl stared at the Arab. “Why is he wearing a dress, Mom?”
    “It’s not a dress, he’s a foreigner. Now hush!” “It’s OK.”
    “You speak English?”
    “I went to Indiana University.”
    “No kidding! We’re from Indiana.”
    “So I overheard. And since you were kind enough to ask, young lady, I’m wearing this dress because I’m an Imam. That’s an Islamic cleric.”
    “Like a preacher?” asked the little girl.
    “Bingo,” he said. “Very like.”
    “I’m a Catholic priest myself,” said the fireman, extending a hand. “Partners in crime, as it were.”
    “Cleverly disguised as a fireman?” said the Imam with a smile.
    “NYFD Chaplain. I’m on a kind of a ceremonial mission here today. That accounts for the full dress get-up.”
    “Watch the closing doors,” said the operator.
    The elevator started up.
    The two young men at the back held hands silently. The Marine stood beside them stiffly, as if at attention. The lawyer in the Italian suit stared curiously at the elevator operator.
    The little girl covered her ears.
    “My ears hurt!” she said.
    “That’s because we’re going up very fast,” said