If you have been paying any attention to my blog, then you know that Pantagathus has been plagued by weresquirrels. He has been trying to cultivate some rare species of flora, namely, daisies, in the wilderness called a garden in those parts. Simply put: he plants and waters; the squirrels munch and water. His Greekness finally had enough. He engaged the services of Sherlock Plopodopulous, and his brother Hercule Terraproctulos. They in turn hired the famous Cherokee Indian tracker, Ashley Wilkes. Tracked the varmints to P's friend's estate, Tara, habited by the infamous Grand Redneck, Rhett Butler. Hercule's and Sherlock's investigation concluded that Rhett had been starving the little tree rats, and then siccing them onto the wilderness for lunch. Very calmly, as is his wont, P decided to exact vengeance. He unearthed his ancient Greek Fire equipment, and charged it up. Ambled over to Rhett's place, and circumnavigated it with the gooey Greek stuff. Got the jalopy in the airy-way for good measure. When the so-called garage exploded as a consequence of the ammunition Rhett kept in store for the expected Yankee invasion, it startled the grits out of our hero. A good old fashioned blaze was the result. However, P did make one blunder. He stuck around to admire his handiwork. When the fire brigade arrived, they took note that P was smoking as a result of a minor mishap while engaged in the arson. His hair was also ablaze, so they watered him down, with the well water, and summoned the local carabinere. They hauled P off to the assizes where judge Beauregarde Roy Bean gave him six months on the georgia chain gang plus restitution, in kind, to the cavalier chevalier. Doesn't get much computer time, as electricity really hasn't reached those parts to any great degree. When they do use it, it's to fry some poor Yankee driver for 'speeding'. P will be cut loose soon, but he will have to devote much of his time rebuilding Rhett's bungalow.