The Ensign needed a new place to stay while he searched for a job out in the city of angels. He was not quite small enough to live in his banjo case, though maybe if he shaved it could work. He also thought about a motel, but unfortunately that required something called money. There was always the Cmmdr’s garage, but termites had destroyed it as a result of all the crumbs left behind when the Ensign last ensconced himself there. It seemed hopeless and the bitter man was worried. He needed a garage or a guest house where he could prep his next lawyer audition. But thankfully, no audition came for him, and he had all the time in the world to spend on garage-seeking, eventually settling on the trunk of Spenser Garret’s car, where the little thespian stayed for a month before returning back east where nothing continued to happen.
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