Arise, My Love Page #3

Of course, my passport

had to be corrected a bit.

How'd you get past

so may guards?

- They carried me in to the couch.

- The what?

After three days waiting

for an interview,

- I whip up a faint.

- Then a few hours of crying.

Yes, sir.

His Excellency cried like a baby.

I had to blow his nose

while he signed the pardon.

That ought to tickle

the readers of...

- What's the name of the paper?

- Associated News.

400 hundred of them.

New York to Honolulu.

Tell you what? For six months,

I'll subscribe to each one.

If you take 300 of each,

I could get 400 scooters.

You don't want me to read

three Wichita Gazette's a day.

What kind of church

makes a sound like that?

- That's the prison alarm bell.

- What?

Don't tell me something

slipped up

after all the trouble

I've taken!

What's the matter?

All cars must stop

when the alarm sounds.

- Why?

- Regulations.

Maybe some prisoner escaped.

Excuse me, Madame.

Sorry.

That way!

They went that way!

I don't care.

You'll have to pay for this!

That way!

That way!

It's that way!

We'll never make it.

The roads will be blocked!

- Thought we were going by plane?

- The airport will be covered.

- Where'd they go?

- That way, to the right!

- Why didn't you listen to me?

- Which way did they go?

That way.

On that turn.

- Soldiers!

- I see them. Hold tight.

There's one!

What's going on?

What do you want?

Come on, get in!

- My typewriter!

- For the love of Pete!

They went that way!

They stole a car!

- Here comes my little prayer.

- What prayer?

Always when I take off.

Song of Solomon, Chapter 2,

Verse 13.

"Arise my love,

my fair one and come away".

Back home again!

You can sit up.

Get up, don't be so scared.

- You think I'm scared?

- Yeah.

Well, I was. I was scared

the story was petering out.

You know, this comes in handy.

I needed a good climax.

I'm delighted.

And a great climax, at that.

We've got 47 gallons.

At two miles to the gallon,

that's 94. It's 120 to the border.

We have to land in Spain!

If we get a tail wind,

maybe we can glide the difference.

"Gliding between life and death".

- That'd make good reading.

- Yeah.

I probably would've thought

of that, anyway.

- Are they after us?

- They're not looking for birds.

- They're pursuit planes!

- They'll be on us in 10 minutes.

Maybe this is too much

of a climax!

As for me, I'm living

on velvet, anyway.

Don't stop pitching!

I want to write that story.

There's a little cotton wool

we can hid in for a while.

"We hid in the clouds,

a whipped cream sanctuary".

Is that the sort of stuff

you write, Augusta?

Why don't you rewrite your name?

Augusta! It's like a battleship.

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