Blue Elvis asked, “You boys lookin’ for someone?”

“Who the hell are you?” Ray asked.

Todd said, “Don’t talk to that Xombie, man, are you crazy?”

“He asked me a question.”

“Ignore it and keep walking.”

Elvis stayed with them like a persistent panhandler. “You fellas look lost,” he said. “Maybe I can help you find what you’re looking for.”

Todd spun on him. “What the hell kind of Xombie are you? Get the fuck away from us, man.”

“Now what kind of way is that to talk to a fellow traveler on the road of life?” The blue man suddenly became very animated, running ahead and calling their attention to a seething mass of ants around a crack in the asphalt. “Take a look here, right here. You know what this is? This is a war we’ve got going here, with two races killin’ each other: the Black and the Red. I been watching ’em all day.” He shook his slick-coiffed head. “Look at ’em go, man!”

“I hate bugs,” said Ray.

“Hate? They’re just doing what comes natural. Hate is in their DNA, just like it’s in ours. Only way to stop ’em from fighting is to change their fundamental genetic structure. They won’t do it voluntarily, I can tell you! But hate, gee whiz. How can you hate anything in this beautiful world?” He took off his sunglasses, wiping an imaginary tear. “Especially knowing it’s all gonna be gone soon.”

“Oh shit,” Ray hissed. “It’s him. Todd, I think it’s him.”

“Who?”

“Miska!”

“No way.” Todd turned to the blue man. “You’re Uri Miska?”

“I’m partial to folks callin’ me the King.”

“See, it’s not him.”

“Just kidding!” The man shook his head affably. In a British accent, he declaimed, “The king is dead! Long live the king!”

Todd said, “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

The man blocked their way, bowing stiffly. “Uraeus Miska, at your service!”

“What? Seriously?”