[Encaitare]

Panakeia's bleach-white smile had been nothing short of evil. "So, you're finally getting sensible and trying to look younger, Wilhelmina. Though I daresay it's a bit late to undo some of the damage, even with my Wrinkles-B-Gone Cream."

Wilhelmina had scoffed as only the elderly can. "It's not for me. It's for Pârís Hiltôn... I'm sure people of her quality would just love your products."

"Oh? And what are you going to get from her?" Panakeia said, raising a perfectly shaped brow.

"Never you mind that. Now, a bottle of Pearie Ockcide Potion, and those cheap perfumes that look fancy, if you please."

"I sell nothing cheap," Panakeia had sniffed.

"Shiny, then! I need things with glitz! I've got a bimbo to find!"

~*~*~*~*~

Wilhelmina had also stopped at a pet store and a beauty shop, where she'd purchased a bag of doggie biscuits and a mirror, respectively. Now, she was walking down the streets in the resort area, looking for a certain venue: Club Pârís. She felt quite out of place, as the majority of the people surrounding her wore sleek suits with nary a wrinkle to be seen, or thousand-dollar dresses with matching shoes, sunglasses, and purse.

The old woman's hat clashed with each and every one of the outfits, and she reveled inwardly at that fact as she wandered, unable to see the skeptical looks she was receiving from the other passers-by -- not because of poor vision on her part, but because nearly all of them wore dark glasses of exorbitant price and nominal value.

As she stopped at the corner to wait for the traffic light to change, she noticed a man with a little table piled high with pamphlets of some sort. Tacked to the nearby telephone pole was a sign that said "STAR MAPS" in big letters. To get the point across, large painted stars surrounded the text, glittering jadedly.

"Can I interest you in a Star Map, madam?" the man asked, holding up an equally glittery pamphlet.

"Don't be silly, young man," Wilhelmina replied, checking the traffic light again. "Whatever would I do with a map of the heavens in broad daylight?"

The man laughed as though there was a joke the whole world knew and Wilhelmina somehow didn't understand it. "You do not understand me! This map," he said as he unfolded into a quite unwieldy size, "tells you where you can find the homes of celebrities in this area. It's only one Troll, madam, a very good bargain!"

Wilhelmina regarded the map with a degree of doubt. "Can it tell me where to find Johnny Depp?"

A nervous laugh escaped from the man's throat. "Perhaps we'd best leave matters of Mr. Depp alone... strange things have been happening." Suddenly, like a light bulb growing brighter after someone turns off a massive, electricity-hogging machine in the other room, he burst out with, "But this map also tells you the favorite venues of these celebrities -- who knows, if you're lucky you might get to meet one of them!"

Something clicked. "Is Club Pârís on that map?"

"But of course!"

"Then I'll take it," she decided, thrusting a Troll at the salesman, seizing the map, and barely making it across the street before an eighteen-wheeler barrelled past.