As the car roared toward Las Vegas, my thoughts continued to shift to the box we had found on the side of the road, and the multicolored equine occupied within. Though my attorney had only displayed a passing interest in the animal, perhaps dismissing it as another result of the drug-induced fog he found himself in, I had spent the time since we had found the thing mildly sober, and thus had had the time to fully realize that this animal, impossible though it’s existence may be, was fully real. It stared up at me with an innocent smile, the sort of smile that would make any decent man fall to pieces.
 
Being at least three-quarters of a decent man, unlike, I am ashamed to say, my attorney, or the questionably trustful hitchhiker we had picked up at the count line, I was loath to leave the animal simply sitting in her box on the side of the road. Suppose some maniac came along? I’ll take care of her the best I can. No clue how we’ll get her past the hotel’s strict “No Pets” rules, and I hold it a simple fact of nature that she will inevitably find her way into that suitcase full of a universe of narcotics that I have in the trunk, but I suppose I can jump off that bridge when I get to it.
 
Beside, it’s better than leaving her out here with all these goddamned bats.