hat night there they were again:
The three pairs of hands crushing the corn into meal grinding the wheat into flour pressing the poppy seeds into oil and printing the final copy full color full scale at high resolution on photogloss paper As Vasalisa stood next to Baba Yaga by the loom near the mill kneeling at the giant Epson printer she took the opportunity to inquire of the Yaga if perhaps now she could have the fire to bring back to her home?
	Baba Yaga heaved a frustrated sigh. “Don’t you want to Learn anything from ME first?” Well, sure... Vasalisa had been curious about a few things around the joint.
		Vasalisa went ahead and asked the hag about those horses: "I was just wondering...Who was that White guy?” “Oh, that is my daybreak. He always makes the deliveries at the crack of dawn.” “And... the Red one? “He is my sunset. A real hot head, but dependable.” “And what's the story on the Black fellow?” “Ah, that is my Night. You’d better keep an eye on him, he works the late shift... I SUPERVISE all of them. I keep them here < in this locked file cabinet < in this portfolio < on this zip disk. Well, actually... < they’re in this folder < inside this other folder < inside this other folder < on the desktop... and I pull them up as they’re needed.” “Now ... Don’t you want to ask me anything else?” Vasalisa looked at the hands animated and floating in space. She was dying to know all about them. But before she could ask, her little doll whispered a characteristic
			from her pocket, warning Vasalisa that too many questions might get her into trouble.
	“Oh, shhhhhush yourself!” Vasalisa said to the doll. “I can ask whatever I feel like asking!” Baba Yaga glared at her: “I hope you’re not going to ask for a raise! Or for a different shift... Or for weekends off... Because if you do... I’ll eat you up! And what’s that you’re talking to in your pocket? Personal correspondence? On my time clock? You listen to me little girlie: If you go trying to organize those horses... I’ll make a potluck of you!” “Oh,It’s nothing...” answered Vasalisa, “Just a little doll, a blessing from my Mother.” “A BLESSING! So that’s how you’ve gotten all this work done!” (Her eyebrows came together like a terrible black bird in flight.) “I’ve had enough of you! Here, take the fire...and here’s a skull to carry it in.” The hag was all out of packing crates and shopping bags and zip disks so the skull would have to do.