CHAPTER FIVE: SIR REAL
Soon the VW fell into another deep dark pothole.
"Man, this is some trip," said the empty-headed pothead as he clung to the roof of the VW.
"Hey, there's the witch again!" shouted Donny.
"Wow! What a broomstick," said Mark. "Look at that thing go".
"Please, Miss Witch, please," pleaded Miss Morgan, as the witch whizzed past, "please stop and tell us ..".
The witch called back, just before she faded from sight,
"For a real meal
see Sir Real;
then egghead south
to the mouth
of the Nile
and find the tooth
the whole tooth
and nothing but the tooth
for smiles and smiles
till suffer-time".
"Well," said Miss Prysby, "maybe we'll finally get something to eat. It seems like we've been on the road forever. I could use a 'real meal.'"
"Oh, I do wish she'd explain herself," said Miss Morgan.
"Quick, do as she said," urged Mr Shermin. "Don't wait around. Hit the gas, or we'll miss the intersection".
Miss Morgan hit the gas, then right away, she hit the brakes, and the car stalled. Somebody was standing in the middle of the road.
"Gosh," said Donny, "that must be the cereal, like the Witch said. He's got a bowl of raisin bran instead of a head".
"The name is Sir Real," said the man. "And that's not ordinary cereal up there -- that's raisin brain".
"Certainly, sir, certainly," said Miss Prysby. "Donny didn't mean to insult you. He just sees things the way they are; I mean, the way he's used to seeing them. He's got a lot to learn. We all have a lot to learn. But could you please tell us where we could find a restaurant? You see, we're going to Oz and Ome, and it's rather a long trip, and we're all very hungry".
"Well," answered Sir Real, "you can get plenty of food for thought in the library, just on the other side of the block".
"What block?" asked Donny. "I don't see any block".
"Naturally, it's a mental block. Just do as I say, and we'll be there in a minute".
So Sir Real climbed on top of the VW, next to the Empty-Headed Pothead, and Miss Morgan hit the gas.
"Welcome aboard, mister," said the Pothead.
"The name is 'Sir Real,' son".
"Yes, siree, this is some trip".
"I don't believe I caught your name, son".
"I don't believe I have one".
"No name?"
"People call me 'Empty' because of my empty flowerpothead. But that's just till I find something worth putting in it".
"A commendable ambition, I'm sure," said Sir Real, somewhat put off that he had to sit next to such a crude character. "Miss," he called to Miss Morgan. "Speed it up, please. It's not far at all. Just left, then left again, right, left, right, up, down, around, and we'll be there in no time".
"Excuse me, Mr Real," she asked, "what was that again?"
"That's 'Sir,' miss, 'Sir Real.'"
"Yeah, man," said Empty, "that's Sir Real all right".
"You're doing just fine, miss. Just another left, right, up, down, around".
"But that's impossible," said Miss Morgan.
"Of course, miss. How could it be a mental block if it didn't seem impossible?"
