“Fucking again,” Richie agrees. “It’ll be done in two issues, I think. They squeezed all the stories they could outta this shit, I wouldn’t be surprised if somebody decided to amnesia-proof Lucky’s head after this.”

To the jackalope, he says, “Didn’t bring anything for you either. Sorry. Next time, yeah, Bubsy? You little cutie.” He ought to start carrying pet treats, the amount of times he’s had to deal with dogs and cats and other animals on his paper route. Although he’s never seen a jackalope before.

“Did this little chick come from your world or something?” he asks.