Okay, as part of the ongoing quest to have something for people 
other than Ranma fans to read, and as a blatant ploy to be reviewed by 
a MSTing team, a story referenced in "Sauce"...


	Once upon a time that might be tomorrow, in a town not too 
different from your home town, a fairy came to live on Earth.  She found 
a nice human couple to live with as their daughter.  They operate a bed and 
breakfast, and the fairy helps them out.  But that's not all she does.  
Her magic allows her to become a grownup woman, with whatever skills she 
needs to solve a problem.  She uses this to help people with their 
troubles.  Her name is
			Magic Princess Minky Momo
				appearing in
			      ONE MINUS ONE
			by Scott K. Jamison
(Note:  Minky Momo and the associated characters are the property of some 
Japanese animation company and used here without permission.  No 
infringement of rights is intended.)

	In April, it often rains, as it had earlier this morning.  But at 
the moment the sun was shining, so Momo had furled up her umbrella and 
was playing follow-the-leader with her pets. 
	"C'mon Rupipi, keep up!" called the perky pink-haired girl. 
	The little yellow bird flapped her wings in a valiant attempt to 
match Momo's speed.  "I'm--trying--Momo!" she chirped.  Rupipi gained a 
little ground as Momo jumped over a bush.  Charmo the monkey also easily 
cleared it, but Cookbook, Momo's dog, got caught and fell into a mud 
puddle. 
	"Hmph!  I think I've had enough of this game."
	"Oh, just till we get to the other side of the bridge.  There's a 
hose there you can clean off with."  So saying, Momo jumped up on the 
wide stone railing.  She swayed a bit from side to side, then opened her 
umbrella to balance like a circus performer.  Charmo and Rupipi followed 
her up, but Cookbook chose to run on the sidewalk inside the railing. 
	About halfway across the bridge, the wind came up in a strong 
gust.  As misfortune would have it, there was still water standing on a 
particularly smooth bit of the rail and Momo lost her footing.  The wind 
filled her gaily-colored umbrella and she found herself falling towards 
the river below.
		*			*		*
	The Fairy King and Queen were watching on their magic viewer, to 
see how their daughter was doing.
	"Taihen!" cried the King, "Momo's in danger!"  The funny little 
man's feet looked like little balls floating beneath his body, he was so 
excited.  
	His tall, elegant wife laid her hand on his shoulder.  "Be calm, 
dear.  You know we cannot do anything from here.  And I do believe she's 
caught herself."
		*			*		*
	Indeed, by dropping her umbrella, Momo had managed to keep one 
foot hooked on the railing.  But it was slowly slipping, and even the 
combined strength of her pets wasn't pulling her back. 
	"Been hitting the chocolate cake a little much lately, have we?" 
joked Charmo through gritted teeth.  It was pretty obvious this wasn't 
working, and Momo screamed as the whole group dropped forward another 
inch.  Suddenly she was in free fall. 
	Momo had the breath forced from her as her fall was suddenly 
stopped by something warm around her ankle.  It hauled her up and sat her 
down on the sidewalk. 
	At this point she could see her rescuer.  It was a man, old 
enough to be called "oji-san", but not quite old enough for "ojii-san".  
He had a neat beard and tinted glasses.  A cloud passed over the sun, and 
the partial darkness made his face look distant and cold, like the night 
sky. 
	"Be more careful, sweetling." he said, and he sounded a million 
miles away. 
	"Thanks, mister.  Oh!  My umbrella!"  Momo got up and looked to 
see what had become of her umbrella.  She didn't find it, and when she 
looked back, the man was gone. 
		*			*		*
	It was mid-afternoon by the time Momo returned to the Legend Inn, 
the small hotel her Earth parents ran.  She'd finally got her umbrella 
back and given Cookbook a good cleaning.  "Mama, I'm home." 
	Mama (Momo had never heard her referred to by any other name) was 
behind the front desk, ready to check in the guests who would doubtless 
be arriving soon.  She had the usual smile on her round face.  "Welcome 
back, Momo.  Did you have a good day?" 
	"Well, it wasn't perfect--"  At that moment the bell rang as a 
customer came in.
	It was the man from the bridge.  He was carrying a portable 
typewriter and an artist's case in addition to his suitcase.  He set 
everything down in front of the counter and straightened up with a small 
sigh.  "A room, please." 
	"Certainly, sir.  Room 18 is open, and has a south window.  Will 
that do?"  Mama took the guest's silence for an affirmation.  She 
produced the register for him to sign. 
	"Mr. Jacob Welsh...you're *the* Jacob Welsh?  The writer?"  He 
nodded.  "Oh, I just love your books.  They make me cry so hard!  I'm a 
writer myself you know, I do mysteries..." and onward.  Mama loved to 
talk about her writing. 
	Mr. Welsh looked very uncomfortable.  He didn't seem to know how 
to respond.  At this point, Papa emerged from the back. 
	"Welcome, guest!  What room is he in, Mama?"  The writer visibly 
relaxed at this interruption. 
	"18, Papa.  Will you take his bags up, dear?
	"Of course, darling.  Oh, hello, Momo."
	"Good afternoon, Papa."
	"Momo?" asked the guest, who noticed her for the first time.  "I 
should have guessed." 
	"Huh?"  Momo didn't get it, and neither did her parents. 
	"Your pets.  A dog, a monkey and a bird, just like the hero 
Momotaro."  One corner of his mouth lifted a little bit, a ray of 
sunshine in his dark face.  Papa and Mama looked surprised.  Somehow this 
coincidence had never occurred to them. 
	"Pin-pon!  Mama, Papa, this man helped me earlier today." 
	"It was nothing, really."  Mr. Welsh rubbed the back of his head 
in embarrassment.  Papa and Mama were effusive in their thanks.  Shortly 
thereafter, Mr. Welsh was safely upstairs, and sounds of typing came from 
his room.
		*			*		*
	Over supper, Momo asked about something that confused her.  
"Mama, you said that Mr. Welsh's books made you cry."
	"Yes, he writes very sad books."
	"But if they make you sad, why do you read them?" 
	"Because he's a good writer, and sometimes I want to feel sad.  I 
always feel better after a good cry about someone else's problems." 
	"True," chimed in Papa.  "Even I enjoy a weepy now and then.  I 
think we have a couple of his books in the hotel library." 
	"Hmm, the typing has been stopped for a while now.  Momo, would 
you take some tea up to Mr. Welsh's room?" 
	"Okay, Mama."
	Actually, the writer made Momo a little nervous.  He seemed to be 
a bit more observant than most people.  She knocked on the door of #18, 
to hear a muffled voice tell her to come right in. 
	"I brought some tea, Mr. Welsh."
	"That's nice.  Just set it down over there."  Mr. Welsh was 
gesturing at a clear space on the desk.  He was sitting at an easel, but 
his body blocked what he was working on. 
	Momo set down the tray.  There was a lot of paper on the desk, 
all typed on, most wadded up, torn apart or crossed out.  It didn't look 
like the story was going too well.  She crossed over to see what he was 
doing.  It was a drawing, still far from completed, but it was 
unmistakably herself.  She could see the skill in the lines, but there 
was something about it that disturbed her. 
	"You're not smiling!" chattered Charmo.  That was it.  She looked 
sad in the picture. 
	"No, she's not.  Who said that?"
	"Ah, I did."  Momo did her impression of the monkey's voice. 
	"A ventriloquist, too?" 
	"I s'pose so.  Mister Welsh, why is the picture sad?" 
	"That's the way I draw.  I'm afraid I just can't do happy.  I 
came here to write a happy story, but I haven't even really been able to 
start.  It's supposed to be a sequel to my `Mockingbird's Song', and if I 
don't come up with a happy ending for it, the hero will be too depressed 
to go on."
	He threw a cloth over the easel.  "Time for a little tea, and 
time for you to go, little one."
	Momo remembered what Papa had said, and checked the bookshelves 
provided for the guests.  Yes, there were three Jacob Welsh books there:  
The Girl in Green, Faraway, and The Mockingbird's Song.  She remembered 
Mr. Welsh mentioning the last one. 
	All the books had painted covers, and she recognized Mr. Welsh's 
art style.  Very pretty, but all the people looked wistful, as though 
something were missing.  She decided to try Mockingbird's Song, and put 
the other two back on the shelf.  
	Momo got ready for bed and began reading.  It was slow going at 
first.  The book was written for grownups, and she had to get out of bed 
to fetch a dictionary for some of the words.  But Momo was a quick 
learner, and soon got into the flow of the story. 
	It was about a young man, Jeff, who fell in love with a girl he 
met accidentally.  But as he got to know her better, Jeff realized she 
was in love with another man who didn't even know she was alive.  Momo 
read as long as she could stay awake, which brought her about a third of 
the way through. 
		*			*		*
	The next day was a school day, and Momo was late rising, so she 
didn't have time to check up on Mr. Welsh in the morning.  When she 
returned, Mama told her he'd gone out walking, so Momo decided to read 
more of the book.
	Jeff decided to help the girl he loved, so he worked behind the 
scenes to help her win the heart of the man she wanted.  At the end of 
the book, Jeff succeeded, but the girl didn't even say "thank you", or 
seem to notice Jeff at the wedding.  Jeff was left all alone. 
	Momo wiped away her tears.  Such a sad story!  But Mama had been 
right.  A good cry did make you feel better. 
	She returned the book to its shelf, and saw Mr. Welsh returning. 
	"Ah, Momo!  Your eyes look a bit red.  Are you all right?" 
	"Yes, I was just reading your book.  I liked it, though it was 
awfully sad." 
	"Did you now?  You seem a bit young for the sort of thing I 
write." 
	"It was a lot more grownup than I'm used to, but I'm pretty mature 
for my age.  Mr. Walsh, why did you write the ending that way, with Jeff 
all alone?" 
	"Because that's the way it happened, Momo.  That's the way it 
happened..." His face took on that look again, like the night sky.  "Good 
afternoon."  He went up to his room.
	"That's the way it happened..."  What an odd thing to say. 
	Momo finished her homework, then skimmed the other two books.  
"The Girl in Green" was about a man named Jason, who fell in love with a 
woman who had cancer.  He sacrificed everything in an attempt to find a 
cure, and she finally said she loved him--just before she died and left 
Jason all alone.  "Faraway" turned out to be Mr. Welsh's first book.  
John, the protagonist, was a high school student who...yes, fell in love 
with a girl, helped her, she left, he was all alone.  A definite pattern 
was emerging. 
	Jeff, Jason, John...Jacob.  Then it hit Momo.  He was writing 
about himself!  "The way it happened" meant exactly what it sounded like; 
the events in Mockingbird's Song were at least partially based on 
reality.  And if that was so...Mr. Welsh never wrote happy endings 
because he'd never had one! 
	She talked it over with her pets. 
	"I'm not too surprised." said Cookbook.  "Unhappy endings are 
more common than not in the human world." 
	Rupipi chirped, "That's why we're needed here, to make more happy 
endings." 
	"So you could turn yourself into a lady who's nice to him?" 
suggested Charmo. 
	"No, I can't keep one form indefinitely; eventually, I'd have to 
leave, and he'd be alone again."  Momo balanced a pencil on her 
forehead.  "We're going to have to be a bit more subtle."
			*		*		*
	After school the next day, Momo asked Mama where Mr. Welsh was. 
	"I believe he said he was going to the park, dear," her Earth 
mother replied, typing furiously.  "I hope he won't mind reading my 
latest manuscript.  I just know this time it'll be good!"
	Momo giggled.  Mama never gave up!
	On the way to the park, Momo came up with an idea.  She ducked 
behind a convenient wall, drew the magic wand from her headband, and 
commanded it to turn her into a flower vendor.
	A spiral of pink ribbon surrounded Momo, as light and music 
washed over her body.  She felt the familiar stretching and expanding as 
her form grew from that of a little girl to an grown-up woman.  
Fortunately, the ribbon "cocoon" prevented anyone from seeing that she 
was naked during her transformation.
	Momo posed at the end, and checked out her new costume.  It 
looked rather like a cleaned-up version of Eliza Doolittle's, with a 
heart-shaped brooch at her throat, and a cart of flowers was ready to 
go.  
	"Now hisn't this loverly!"
	"Uh, Momo, why are you talking that way?" asked Charmo.
	"The haccent came with the clothes, hit did, luv."  Momo 
blushed.  These transformations didn't always come out exactly as 
planned.  She'd have to make do.
	She was stopped several times by people wanting to buy flowers 
before she found Mr. Welsh.  He was sitting alone on a park bench, and a 
squirrel was just leaving.  Momo saw that Jacob had an empty bag next to 
him, of the type used to sell peanuts.
	"Flowers, sir?  Buy something pretty for your lady?"
	Mr. Welsh looked up at Momo.  She couldn't read his expression.  
	"No, thank you, Miss.  I have no lady."
	"None?  Hand a 'andsome fellow like yourself?  No one 'oo might 
like a rose?"  She showed him a red rose, to illustrate the point.
	"Roses are for love, beautiful and sweet of scent.  But they have 
cruel thorns, and like love soon fade away."
	"But the memr'y hov the rose stays, ducky."
	He smiled wistfully.  "And memories are all I have, and even then 
incomplete.  All I have loved have left me, and I remain alone, not 
knowing if I was ever loved in return.  The world is a cold and lonely 
place."
	Momo felt sad inside.  She so wanted to bring cheer, but it 
wasn't working too well.  "You mustn't say that, guvnor.  Something'll 
turn hup, sixpence to sovereigns hit will."
	"Perhaps you are right.  Do you have peach blossoms?"
	"Peach?"  She must have looked confused, because she certainly 
felt it.
	"I know a little girl named Momo, which means `peach'.  She has 
pink hair, just like yours."
	"You don't say?  What ha coincidence!  Heheh..."
	"And that's her dog, over there."  Mr. Welsh pointed, and sure 
enough Cookbook could be seen peeping from behind a bush.
	"Never saw 'im before hin me life."
	"Oh well, as you say, a coincidence.  I know, how about those 
forget-me-nots?"
	Grateful for the reprieve, Momo quickly handed over the bright 
blue flowers for a little money, and beat a hasty retreat.
			*		*		*
	Back in her normal guise, Momo stared at the river from the 
bridge where she'd met Jacob.  That hadn't gone at all well.  Not only 
was she no closer to helping the man, but he seemed to notice far too 
many things for her disguises to work.
	"Sorry about that, Momo," offered Cookbook.  "He's a sharp one."  
	"No one's ever caught on before.  But we have to help.  Mr. Welsh 
is so sad."  Momo replayed the events of the last few days again in her 
mind.  All beginning at this bridge...then a memory came to her, or 
perhaps the dream of a memory.
	"The Bridge of Meet-Again!"
	"Say what, Momo?" Charmo seemed concerned.
	"I have an idea...Rupipi, I'll need you for this."
	The bird flew closer.  "What is it?"
	"Well, you see..."  Momo bent closer and whispered in the bird's 
ear.   
			*		*		*
	"Now what is she up to, dear?" asked the Fairy King as he and his 
wife watched Rupipi fly to a nearby tree and chirp at the other birds 
roosting there.
	The Fairy Queen smiled.  "We'll see soon enough.  Minky Momo 
always comes through."
	The birds flew off in all directions, and each of them sang to 
other birds, and onward.
			*		*		*
	It was almost twilight, the time of illusions, and time for Momo 
to put her plan into action.  She drew her wand again, and asked it to 
transform her, but this time chose the form of a mockingbird with pink 
markings.  Momo did not often take non-human shapes, in Papa's words, 
they "freaked her out", but a human form would not do for this.
	She flew up to the window of #18, and pecked on the glass.  Mr. 
Welsh was sitting at his typewriter, but the paper was blank, and his 
hands weren't moving.  Momo pecked again, and the man looked up.
	Momo began to sing, a warbling and mournful sound.  Jacob came to 
the window and opened it.  She hopped on to his shoulder and continued to 
sing.
	"Now, where did you come from?"
	Momo flew to the door and pecked at it, then flew back to Mr. 
Welsh's shoulder.
	"You want me to open the door?"
	Momo bobbed her head "Yes."
	The writer opened the door, and Momo flew through, only to return 
and sing again.
	"Ah.  I'm to follow you, am I?  Then lead on, MacDuff." 
	And so it progressed, as Momo led him out of the Legend Inn, and 
into the nearby wood.  He nearly stumbled once, then caught himself.  
"Should have brought a flashlight."
	At last they came to a natural grotto, where there were dozens of 
birds perched.  In the dying light, their colors were muted, but it was 
clear this was no ordinary flock.
	Now came the big moment.  Momo once again sang, but this time in 
human words.

	"Let all who have feathered wing,
	Now let glad tidings ring."

	A red-breasted bird hopped up.

	"Robin, the harbinger of spring,
	Remembers the joy first love did bring,
	Though long ago you two did part,
	Still there is fondness in her heart."

	A grey bird was next.

	"Homing pigeon, with tremulous coo,
	Knows that sometimes love's not true,
	Though she chose another to wed,
	Every night she thanks you in her head."

	A white bird glided to the fore.

	"Snow-white dove, symbol of Heaven's grace,
	Sees the sorrow in your face,
	God who marks the sparrow's fall,
	Though you seem alone, still hears your call."

	A large and dark bird shouldered forward.
	"This is stupid.  Ravens don't sing, they croak."
	"Get on with it, Matthew," came a voice from the back.

	"Quoth carrion raven, dire and black,
 	Once you die, you don't come back,
	But even then you're not forgot,
	All flesh is grass, but souls don't rot."

	Then all the birds joined in.

	"Hope, we say, is not in vain,
	Through all the trouble, all the pain,
	Good will come to those who work and wait,
	For love, though sometimes slow, it's never too late."

	And then they took to flight, and the beating of their wings was 
like thunder.  Only Momo and Rupipi remained, and they saw Jacob cry.  
Their hearts sank as he slowly walked away.
			*		*		*
	Momo detransformed, and slipped into bed.  It had seemed like 
such a good idea!  She tried to get to sleep, but something was nagging 
at her, a sound she couldn't quite hear.
	She got up again.  Yes, there was definitely a sound.  A tapping, 
coming from down the hall. 
	Momo put on a robe, and went to investigate.  It was coming from 
#18, and it was the sound of typing!  She knocked on the door.
	"Come in."
	She did, and saw Mr. Welsh sitting at the typewriter, pounding 
just as fast as he could.
	He nodded at her.  "Hope I didn't wake you."
	"Um, no, I was already awake."
	"I finally made a breakthrough."
	"Really?"
	"Yes.  I had a strange dream, about a bird with feathers the same 
color pink as your hair.  Or perhaps it wasn't a dream..."  He was 
staring at her in a most peculiar way.
	"Is something the matter?"
	"No.  Sometimes the magic is in not knowing for sure.  That 
reminds me, I have something for you."  He reached over the typewriter 
and pulled out the forget-me-nots.
	Jacob put them in her hair, and arranged them.  "Yes.  They suit 
you." 
	"Thank you, Mr. Welsh!  Well, goodnight."
	"Goodnight, Momo."
			*		*		*
	He didn't come out of his room much for the next few days, and 
Momo nearly missed Mr. Welsh leaving.
	Mama was pressing a pile of paper into his hands.
	"Don't worry, Ma'am.  I'll be sure to take a look at it.  And 
thank you for everything.  You and your family run a fine 
establishment."  
	Mama blushed.  "Goodbye, Mr. Welsh, and Godspeed."
	"And thank you, Momo.  You were most helpful."  He smiled at her, 
and for once it was not a sad one.
	"Bye!"  
			*		*		*
	Several weeks later, a package arrived for Momo, a rectangular 
one with reinforced corners.  Inside was a book.
	On the cover, the title was, "Mockingbird's Hope:  A novel by 
Jacob Welsh."  And there was a painting of people in a park, walking in 
the rain.  In the background, there was a girl carrying a 
brightly-colored umbrella.  She had blue flowers in her pink hair.  And 
she was smiling...

			THE END


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SKJAM!
"Even funny-looking duck men need love."  Gary Kleppe, "Hearts and Minds"