58.
   But the creature was relentless. “Islamo-fascists!”, she screeched. “Enemy combatants! We will attach electrodes to your body and FRY you! We will set the DOGS on you! We will keep you awake until you lose your MIND! We will CUT you! We will BURN you! We will BEAT you! We will lock you in a tiny box full of SPIDERS!”
   Claudia decided it had crossed the line. “Come on, everybody, the balloon needs a patch.” The beast rushed at Claudia, her stick arms twitching, her head dancing.

   Claudia didn’t bat an eye. “Lady, all your money is gone, vanished. All your gold and jewels have disappeared, your real estate foreclosed, your pied a terres sold. Your Swiss accounts are empty. Your Cayman Island money is no more. Your jet has crashed. Your Maserati is burning. Your yacht is on the bottom of the Mediterranean. You’re a pauper.”
   That did it. She screamed, clutched her chest, turned blue and dropped like a stone. As she lay dead at my feet, I smiled. “The bankers could use some company.”
   We skinned the corpse of the beast and cured the hide with dog piss and a bonfire. Claudia broke out a bottle of wine. “To Nemesis!”, she toasted.
   We enthusiastically dove into a vengeful sewing bee. When we had finished, the balloon inflated itself and fluttered into the air. We climbed aboard and sailed peacefully away. I breathed in the fresh air and felt the agony of Chile lift out of me. What an amazing adventure, I thought. It wasn’t long before I glanced over the rail of the basket and noticed a dazzlingly city unfurling beneath us.
   “Ah, Buenos Aires, my favorite city in the world!”, Claudia exalted.