ersation with the old constable who showed up a few
minutes later, as he filed his report. He found the kid a few blocks away,
huddled in an alley, hand pressed to the small of his back. He took him to Mount
Sinai's emerg and turned him over to a uniformed cop.

#

The hysterical _Sun_ headlines that vilified Hershie for interfering with the
cop sparked a round of recriminating voicemails from his mother, filled with
promises to give him such a _zetz_ in the head when she next saw him. He folded
his tights and cape and stuffed them in the back of his closet and spent a lot
of time in the park for the next few weeks. He liked to watch the kids playing,
a United Nations in miniature, parents looking on amiably, stymied by the
language barrier that their kids hurdled with ease.

On March first, he took his tights out of the overstuffed hall closet and flew
to Ottawa to collect his pension.

He touched down on the Parliament Hill and was instantly surrounded by
high-booted RCMP constables, looking slightly panicky. He held his hands up,
startled. "What gives, guys?"

"Sorry, sir," one said. "High security today. One of Them is speaking in
Parliament."

"Them?"

"The bugouts. Came down to have a chat about neighbourly relations. Authorised
personnel only today."

"Well, that's me," Hershie said, and started past him.

The constable, looking extremely unhappy, moved to block him. "I'm sorry sir,
but that's not you. Only people on the list. My orders, I'm afraid."

Hershie looked into the man's face and thought about hurtling skywards and
flying straight into the building. The man was only doing his job, though.
"Look, it's payday. I have to go see the Minister of Defense. I've been doing it
every month for _years_."

"I know that sir, but today is a special day. Perhaps you could return
tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? My rent is due _today_, Sergeant. Look, what if I comm his office?"

"Please, sir, that would be fine." The Sergeant looked relieved.

Hershie hit a speed dial and waited. A recorded voice told him that the office
was closed, the Minister at a special session.

"He's in session. Look, it's probably on his desk -- I've been coming here for
years; really, this is ridiculous."

"I'm sorry. I have my orders."

"I don't think you could stop me, Sergeant."

The Sergeant and his troops shuffled their feet. "You're probably right, sir.
But orders are orders."

"You know, Sergeant, I retired a full colonel