Strange Encounter
[SATIRE] - The sun beat down on the dusty country road, making the hand-painted sign for "Mookie's Marvelous Lemonade" wobble slightly. Six-year-old Mookie Betts, already possessing the preternatural focus that would define his future, sat on an overturned crate, meticulously polishing a lemon. Business was slow. He'd sold three cups all morning, but his price was firm: 26 cents, no exceptions, and correct change only. A low rumble interrupted the quiet chirp of crickets. A vehicle approached—not the usual pickup or SUV, but a long, gleaming black 1930s Cord. It was polished like patent leather. It slid silently to a stop right beside Mookie’s tiny stand. The back door opened with a sigh of hydraulics. Out stepped a figure who seemed to have materialized from a black-and-white movie. He wore a rumpled pork pie hat perched over a wild halo of hair, a pair of dark sunglasses, and, most startlingly, a sweeping, velvet cape. He was tossing a well-worn baseball into a flop...
