Last night I dreamt L'il Bouzzini's pointy snout knock-knocked my window, and when I peeked outside I saw Thumby, a dervish in miniscular white robe and fez, whirling in circles on the fire escape. I called her, but she didn't heed my meows. I tried husking open the window but couldn't. Cornzee, wearing a white sequined tutu, said, "Now is never too late" and swiftly opened it. Thumby, tripping inside, muttered, "Power to the people, right on," and handed me a bale of hay saying, "To Bouzzini or not to Bouzzini? There's no question, you should go make some gold."