Blue remembered this page well and fondly the moment he found it in the stack. He remembered working at the Mark Hopkins in San Francisco as well as at the Meridian in both Boston and SF, and the incredible haughtiness of the staff, especially the concierge. The thing that constantly amused Blue about working with these people is that they all had a certain shell of superiority about them. They were the finest in the hospitality industry. Nobody could compare with their impeccable presentation and sophistication, their refined sense of service. In short, nobody ran and got shit for you quite as nicely as they did. But just try to break in there. Try to become one of the elite if you were just a fine art grad from the Midwest capable of pronouncing about fifty words in any language other than English solely because you watched enough cartoons to pick up the exaggerated accent of a great French lover or a macho Spanish bullfighter from Mel Blanc. So when it came time for a message to be delivered to our friend Leer, Blue had no trouble at all coming up with a suitable delivery scene. The concierge at Leer's hotel would be visited by three spirits. They all just happened to be in one body. The body of a clown. This clown was obnoxious, silly and a little spooky. He was a bit of a showboat, perhaps a trifle too rude toward the concierge, but he got the job done. He delivered a letter, special delivery for Leer.
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