Congratulations to Star_Master for the FTF

and Marpomem for the "Re-FTF"!

and ShawnSoter for the "Re-re-FTF"!!

Richard Kancache

On the morning of December 10, 2006, Richard Kancache stepped from the Southern Crescent onto the dry and dusty platform of the Picayune train station. Richard was a gypsy, or he had been raised by gypsies, or he had been returned by gypsies to Target, the account varied as many times as he told it to whomever would listen. He reached down to pet his imaginary dog, Spot, stopping only when he remembered that the dog wasn't really there. His parents, now both dead, leaving him an orphan at 47, never let him have a dog. They were afraid he would put his eye out with it. Now he was alone, in a strange place, his only friend this imaginary dog. But he had a mission.

"Mr. Kancache?" asked a voice. With unerring accuracy Richard glanced left, right, up, down, behind himself and under his arm, until his eyes alit heavily upon an stunning, plain, old, young, distinctive, ordinary, raven-haired blonde dressed in a gingham ballgown, standing two feet in front of him. Her very presence bespoke the air of camellia and mimosa blossoms, muddy hiking boots and rusty 30 caliber ammo cans.

"Please, call me Richard. You must be..."

"Sanchesca Panza, your loyal sidekick and local geocaching guide. I understand you're here seeking the Caches of Pearl River County."

"How did you know that?" Richard asked, nervously pushing the buttons of his Garmin Etrex, thumbing through the loose geocaching.com page printouts in his left hand and slinging his Signal backpack over his shoulder.

"Something told me...I'm not sure what. But if you'd like to start right away, the logical starting point is right over here." Sanchesca pointed at the black hulk of an ancient American steam locomotive sitting in a little park near the Chamber of Commerce. "There's a micro hidden somewhere around that locomotive...the Katrina Hurricachoo-choo cache."

Richard studiously squinted both of his eyes, then opened one of them wide until he looked like Friedrich Nietzsche doing an impression of Popeye the Sailor. "There must be a hundred places you could hide a micro around that thing," he opined.

"It's not that difficult," Sanchesca cooed. "See the fence surrounding the locomotive? You don't have to cross it. The cache is a silver bison tube container. That's all I can tell you. Now go do that voodoo that you do so well."

Richard swept Sanchesca up in his arms, and, glancing over her heaving bosom at his GPSr, staggered towards the first of the Caches of Pearl River County. "Promise me one thing," whispered Sanchesca. "If you find the cache, replace it exactly as you found it...no more visible, no less visible."

"Sanchesca," Richard said, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful somewhat-more-than-platonic-but-relatively-noncomittal relationship."