The sky darkened. A shadowed sugar maple appeared and, at the top of these steps, I was prepared, just as Moses had been prepared at the top of Mt. Sinai, to receive instruction. However, nothing happened. It was foolish of me to expect otherwise, since at the top of every other stairway that we had ascended today, there had been nothing.

Poison Pie guffawed. We retreated. The skies cleared and returned to an ordinary afternoon brilliance.