My friend Jimmy got a tip on a horse who couldn't lose because he had a toy soldier stuck in one of his hooves during all of his previous races. He even won some of them, and he was much quicker without the toy soldier. So we needed to get to the race track, and Salman Rushdie said he'd help get us there. He said he was Salman Rushdie too.
   We ended up in a dimly lit building with red walls, and red upholstery on all of the furniture. A woman was talking to us in a Transylvanian accent. It sounded much more like a Meath accent, but she had fake fangs in her mouth and she moved her hands about like Dracula to make the accent sound more Transylvanian. She had to move her hands about a lot to compensate for the Meath accent.
   She told us about the time she was stuck on Hill 16 with the Dublin fans the time Meath beat Dublin in the football. Salman Rushdie asked her what part of Transylvania she comes from. I don't think he's really Salman Rushdie.
   He said to her, "Well now, the races. We need to get to the race track, in all probability, with great expediency... What's that other word?"
   "Blood?" she said.
   "Yeah. We need to get to the race track to back a horse in the three-twenty."
   "I know someone from Navan who could help ye out."
   We all know someone from Navan, but how many of them can help you out when you're nowhere near Navan?
   She took us to an old house with a dog in a pram. He was alseep. The pram just had three wheels. We could see that the dog had four paws because they were all sticking up in the air as he slept.
   Her friend from Navan was there too, but he looked lost.
   "Ah, thanks," Salman Rushdie said to her.
   "You owe me fifty quid for that."
   Salman Rushdie emptied out his pockets to show they were empty, so we had to pay for that.
   "You're not really Salman Rushdie, are you," I said.