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Fred was relieved that the tin-man handed over the keys to Reaibn, and did
not accompany them into the depths of the dungeon. The man - if that was
what he was - gave him the creeps.
His next surprise was what had been done with Bob the barber's cell, when Reaibn unlocked the door and ushered him in. Yes, it was a prison cell all right. However it had been furnished with a remarkable degree of opulence but a total lack of good taste. A purple shag-pile carpet clashed horribly with the orange armchairs and the pink and lime-green stripes of the wallpaper. Fred thought that having to spend all one's time in such a cell would qualify as cruel and unusual punishment, but Bob seemed cheerful enough. "Why, if it isn't Mr Reaibn," he said. "And Sir Fred with him! I'm honoured that you've come to see little old me." "I've come to talk to you," Fred said. "I intend to pardon you and have you released." Bob looked horrified. "But I mustn't be released," he said. "I'm a menace to society, and Mr Reaibn was quite right to lock me up. I wrote short works with blatant continuity violations. Why, I could have totally destabilised the kingdom." "But if you repent your crimes, and don't intend to repeat them, then surely it's all right to release you?" Fred said desperately. "I'm a recidivist," Bob said, with just a hint of pride. "Mr Reaibn told me that. I didn't know what it meant, but he explained it to me. Once I understood, I knew that he was right. He always is."
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4/11/2003 12:49:34 PM
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