Mr. Yippish Has a Think

After a time, Mr. Yippish began to hum tunes in the key of the doorbell.

"Perhaps it is all for naught," thought Mr. Yippish, realising of a sudden that he was truly addicted to tobacco, " Perhaps all of it is for naught. All the pyramid-building and sky-rocketing....if I cannot even see my friend Ms. Fairfax upon a whim, what else shall I live upon? I've been living on whims seemingly from my first memories...."

Mr. Yippish saw a dire strait of emotional affairs oncoming from a workable distance, and so, thusly, distanced himself.

"I shall never have troubles, " he thought to himself, "For troubles are too heavy to carry, and I am but a nimble fellow."

Mr. Yippish resigned himself to the unanswered doorbell, and took, as it were, into the night. His feet flew rather than trod upon the sidewalks and the old cobblestones that poked up from underneath, and his breath came in great gapes rather than breaths, and for a shining moment the thrill of racing along was enough to satisfy him.

When his feet came to a halt, he found himself basking in a light called Neon, and his empty tummy grumbling it's affections that he should enter, and partake. Mr. Yippish pondered the place, examined with scrutiny the fares on display, and decided upon one.

Little did he know that Ms. Fairfax was passing precisely behind him.