Beneath the crescent moon, my old friend Kamala. She's dancing and singing on her way between Mumbai and Istanbul, but she needs to stop in Shanghai before Lower Manhatten summons Scott F. to fight off the clowns of science and philosophy. She runs into Richard of the Ten Colours, who offers her a little red book and proclaims, "There's no sense but my sense! Let my thoughts of mushrooms fly through the seas!" She's shocked, but the meerkat turns to her and says that it happens every day. The Ol' father North Wind blows and suddenly Mr. Meerkat is not at all Mr. Meerkat, but the handler of the large blue books. A train pulls into the station, and opens it's doors. Out pour a dozen yellow kazoos, and Augustine who blows the thirteenth one with such intent and desire, you just have to applaud. But Richard screams and shouts: "You have nothing to lose! Lose your kazoo, or my geese will fly away from your ears!" Instinctively, the kazoo is dropped and Augustine jumps for the large blue book, since bigger is always a little grander. Father North Wind blows back, and picks up his copy of the little red book, and shouts at Kamala and her orange shrimp dumpling, "Which side are you on?" but doesn't wait for a reply, since Scott F. shows up and walks with his two guns, Earl and Roger. He draws Earl and shoots the tears of Daisy from his barrel. With nowhere else to run, Mr. Meerkat (or rather, what's left of him) cries out, "I have done no wrong! My phony philosophy is only a matter of riddles!" and he holds up a picture Genghis Khan to drive home the point. Father North Wind blows off, leaving a swarm of red locusts to attack the blue crocodiles, and both Mr. Meerkat and Richard return to Vahalla to eat and discuss the cons of socialism. Scott F. returns home to find Daisy, and discovers that in war, only those who wish to die live, for war is terrible for all and a bitter irony. It doesn't take courage to dive into battle; it takes courage to talk to the nothing man as though something has changed. And by doing this, something has changed, you have thought, and you are more dangerous than Fidel Castro or anybody else could ever be.