The ground was covered in snow and ice glistened from the trees. On the bandstand, six erstwhile musicians played a lively jig, somehow motivating the parka-clad audience to clap in time while grinning wildly. The music grew louder. People began to dance.

            The fiddle ground to screeching halt.

             All was silent.

            "Holy Saint McCusker!" whistled Craig between his teeth. "My fingers have frozen to me bow."

            The audience eyed the musicians suspiciously. After all, 5 degrees below zero was not very cold at all - brisk maybe, but hardly worth a fuss.

            "Ummm..." Mollie stepped up to the microphone and smiled shyly. "We'll just take a break now while the fiddler thaws out. But, we'll be right back with more of the Neon Lites greatest HIT in just a few moments. In the meantime, enjoy your day and don't forget to visit Sven Svensson's Woodchippers R Us." She smiled, waved and went to join her fellow band members in the tent backstage.

            "Like is everything totally okay to the max?" Sparki asked as Tasha plugged a large hair dryer into a small outlet and began running hot air over the fiddler's frozen fingers.

            "I'll have Craig defrosted in a jif, Mollie," Tasha grinned, prying the bow, and several layers of skin, from Craig's fingers.

            Mollie nodded, and then noticed that Hamish was fuming.

            "I cannae take more o' this. Where in bloody blazes are we?" He paced back and forth.

            Denara, complete with wild hair and a petulant expression, was sitting beside a space heater in the corner. She answered him in a tone that indicated they had been through this before: "We're at the 187th Annual Ice Fish Fry and Moose Fest..."

            "In Fargo, North Dakota." finished the others.

            "And where were we the day before yesterday?"

            The child answered again: "At the Chaplin Family Reunion..."

.           "In Butte, Montana..." chorused the Band

            "And before that?"

            "The Bernstein Bar Mitzvah..."

            "In Huntington, New York, " chimed in the others.

            "Doesnae that mean anything?" Hamish demanded.

            "Yeah," Tasha fluffed her hair, "It means we must be a pretty popular band to play all those places!"

            "No, no, no, no, no!" Mollie exclaimed. "Hamish is right. How long do we have to keep playing these pathetic little gigs, Denara?"

            The child sniffed, "It wasn't easy getting these bookings. The Neon Lites are a one hit wonder. `I Lost My Merkin at the Harp and Thistle' is a great song, but it's passe. The public is fickle; you were out of the limelight for a whole week, you know!"

            Mollie patted Denara's shoulder. "We know, Denara, and we appreciate how hard you are working filling Snerdly's shoes..."

            "Yuck! Did you have to mention that, Mol? I'm bummed out enough as it is." Tasha gestured with the hair dryer, blowing song sheets all over the tent.

            "Are ye missing Snerdly, lass?" asked Hamish.

            "As if!! No - it's just that he has such ugly shoes!!!!!" Tasha frowned as she pictured them.

            "You know, Coach," Jack tapped Mollie on the shoulder, "Maybe we have done enough fundraising. We must have enough money to buy a new wankle rotary engine by now."

            "Like totally," Sparki, bounced over to Mollie and Jack. "We've played some way bogus gigs since the generator conked out..."

            "At least we were on earth when it happened..." Jack began.

            "At least we were on the ground when it happened." Craig pointed out, remembering too many bad crash landings in the not-so-distant past.

            "Denara, how much money do we have?" Mollie asked.

            "Ummm, let's see. We earned $8,000.00 at the Bar Mitzvah, less $600.00 for the ice sculpture Hamish attacked during a weird moment when he mistook it for the Loch Ness Monster..."

            "It was an evull slimey crayturr...." Hamish began.

            Denara continued, ignoring Hamish, "...less $1,000.00 for Tasha's new boots..."

            "I had to look good on stage, right? My old boots had a scuff!!!!" Tasha explained.

            "Less $192.50 for a carton of mountain dew for Sparki. Less $4,000.00 for plastic surgery after Craig broke the rabbi's nose with his fiddle bow..."

            "He was rude to Miss Tasha, " Craig argued.

            "He was just talking to her!" Jack argued.

            "Whatever," Craig lifted his chin in defiance,

            "...Less $444.00 for a new merkin and Torrid Plaid Sporrin’s latest CD..."

            They all looked at Mollie, who turned away.

            "...Less $1,764.00 for a used mini van and gas to fill it. That brought us to a negative of 50 cents." Denara looked at the piece of paper in her hands.

            Jack whistled, "Not good."

            "We then earned $2,000.00 at the Chaplin Family reunion, but we had to give it all back after Jack was found in a compromising position with the Chaplin twins, 10 feet of rope, chop sticks and a Chewbacca figurine."

            It was Jack's turn to look away."

            "Well, we got $5,000.00 in advance for this gig," Denara said brightly. "Except..."

            "Except WHAT?" Hamish glowered.

            "Well, I got bored while you were all playing, so I went shopping. I found a booth called Political Parade and I bought some collector's item dolls."

            "You bought dollies?"

            "Collector's items," Denara corrected. "A bed and shred Clinton complete with a `don't blow, don't tell' Barbie...."

            "Was that a political joke"" Jack's eyes narrowed.

            "Yes, like a totally bad one that will date this story and ruin all future possibility of marketing in a most heinous way..." Sparki replied.

            "Hey," argued Hamish, "I didn't even GET the joke, so don't go blamin' me..."

            "I also got this Amazon Warrior dolly with removable clothing, a sword and a round plastic killing thing..."
            Tasha grabbed the third doll from Denara, "That looks like..."

            "Couldn't be," Mollie answered, "We dropped her off in Macedonia with that little writer friend of hers...."

            Denara looked puzzled, but she took the doll back from Tasha. "We still have $4,200.00 and that's plenty enough for a new Wankle Rotary Engine."

            Just then, because it was bound to happen sooner or later, the papers Tasha had blown onto the floor were lifted by a non-existent wind and of their own accord, flew towards the space heater. The musician's tent quickly lit on fire and went up like the lost City of Troy. The wind was blowing west and some flames jumped onto the Sno-Cone and Funnel Cake tent beside them, setting it afire. Within twenty minutes, most of the Ice Fish Fry and Moose Fest had gone out in a blaze of glory.

            Recognizing the anger in the eyes of the Fargoians, the Neon Lites snatched up whatever portable instruments they could grab and high-tailed it out of town in a broken town mini-van / tour bus. They drove at break-fiddle speed towards Sheboygan, where the space ship had ceased to function a month earlier. (It had been left on the side of the road with a green magic-markered sign taped to the hull stating “Do Not Touch – this means YOU!” and one of Snerdly’s business cards. Although they were unsure where Snerdly was, they figured he HAD to have his cell phone.)

It was about a six-hour drive from Fargo to Sheboygan and Jack meant to sleep through every second of it, even if he WAS the driver--

Things were going deceptively well. Then all of a sudden...