He treated Maple to an hour of anal and oral sex, and then went with him to a nightspot looking much like the bar in Nighthawks.
While they were having beers, William asked, “well, how do you like it?”
“Just fine,” Maple said. “Here’s your money. Where can I meet you next week?”
“Right here,” William answered, taking 77R and the other bills. With a handshake they parted, Maple noting the address of the place.
William was satisfied with the evening’s results, but he actually didn’t care all that much for homosexual activity himself. He went home and counted the money and noted the wheresgeorge stamp.
The following morning he woke up and noticed his wallet was gone. He saw two sets of muddy footprints–made with high-heeled shoes, and small ones at that–leading into and out of his room. He went outside into the hallway and saw where they led–to a room down the hall. He knew who lived there–two young nurses named Celia Platsky and Rowena Ford. He knocked. Nobody home. “They must already be at the hospital,” he muttered.
Meanwhile, at the hospital, Celia and Rowena were on a coffee break, discussing the events of the night before.
Celia was saying, “…and I can’t believe that big ox didn’t wake up when I entered his room!”
Rowena was aghast. “You went there by yourself? When?”
“About half an hour before. And I got his wallet too!”
“Celia! The man’s a thug! He finds out, he’ll slit our throats! He’ll see both our tracks from when we were there together!”
“Rowena! Calm down! When we were there together, I drugged his water. He won’t wake up until after we get home. We can put the wallet back then. Or better yet, at lunch. I’m going to get a drink.” Celia went to the cafeteria line and bought an apple juice. She paid with 77R.
But William hadn’t drunk any water and he was on the way to the hospital with vengeance on his mind.
He went into the hospital and happened to know where the first floor nurses’ station was, though he was clueless about where the girls worked–and the cafeteria was on the second floor.
“May I help you sir?” asked an older woman, alone at the station. This was Clara Peabody, the nurses’ supervisor, an old-line administrator who was wary of strangers coming in off the street. She was already stading in front of the security button, which William couldn’t see.
He said, “I lost my wallet here and I think I know whom to ask about it. Two nurses named Platsky and Ford.”
Ms. Peabody glanced at a computer screen. “They just went back on shift–they’ve been called into surgery. That’s all I can tell you.”
“But–” William sputtered. The supervisor walked away from the station but kept glancing back. She spoke to a security guard who approached William and ushered him out of the building.
He stomped off, and went to the police station. The desk sergeant, named Gordon Wallace, recognized him.
“Well, Billy! What’s the matter–get robbed by someone you mugged?”
William growled, “Don’t get funny with me, Gordie! Someone took my wallet! Left her footprints all the way out oif my room to hers.”
Sgt. Wallace looked puzzled. “Well, I’ll go with you on this one.”
Wallce called someone to relieve him and accompanied William back to his place. William showed him the footprints, including those leading into the girls’ room.
“Who lives there?” Wallace asked.
“Two nurses named Celia Platsky and Rowena Ford,” William answered. “They work in surgery at Mercy Hospital.”
Wallace got on his cell phone and called the hospital, identifying himself as a policeman to the hospital operator, and asked for Ms. Peabody. She came on the line.
She couldn’t help herself. Policemen turn her on. 
Ok, I just had to get that out. Now to the real post.
Ms Peabody spoke with Wallace stating that yes, a rather seedy looking man came in earlier blathering on about his stolen wallet and two of the nurses that work there. Ms Peabody told Wallace she was appalled and taken aback that such a ruffian would dare accuse two of the sweetest women and best nurses she knew of such a thing. Wallace, knowing Ms Peabody to be a woman of high moral standards, took her word for it and told William to go take a hike. Meanwhile, Ms Peabody went on her coffee break and drank deep from her thermos of gin and tonic. “I needed that!” she thought to herself. Meanwhile 77R had been passed on to a Respiratory Therapist by the name of Armstad Backpimple as change for a fifty he gave the cafeteria cashier when he bought his usual lunch of a tuna sandwich, Sunkist orange soda and two HoHos. He carried 77R in his wallet until the end of his shift when headed on over to this favorite after work hangout…
…and stuck it into the thong of Clevengia Slipperbottom, an armless exotic dancer known for her feats of origami in payment for a lap dance.
Clevengia deftly fashioned 77R in to a “cash cow.” Armistad photographed it with his cell phone, handed her a fiver and thanked her. Then he ordered a beer and five pickled eggs (he had a thing about pickled eggs). The bartender put 77R into the till. Just after he closed up for the night, he remembered he’d seen something unusual about the bill and, the following day when he opened up, looked and sure enough, there was 77R with the wheresgeorge stamp on it. The bartender, Herman C. Long, remembered that his pre-teen son Dale was an Internet maven so he handed him the bill, with Clevengia’s creases still in it, to check out.
Dale took the wrinkled, badly faded bill and immediately logged onto wheresgeorge.com. He was duly impressed by the long and erratic journey of 77R (although he had no way of knowing it had once actually been in orbit, which would’ve really blown his mind). He posted an update of 77R’s current location and sat back. After a few moments’ thought, he took out some stationery and wrote a letter to his boyfriend Joseph “Jed” Peterson, a Marine lance corporal serving in Iraq. He inserted 77R, sealed the envelope and walked down the block to the neighborhood mailbox. The letter safely sent, he then strolled back, enjoying the autumn sunshine and whistling Sousa’s “Semper Fidelis” all the way home.
In a Marine FOB near Tikrit two weeks later, Lance Cpl. Peterson opened the envelope and…
exclaimed, “Wow! This twenty could feed an Iraqi family of four for a week or get a helluva blow job with change back in any dark alley!” However, he was also a wheresgeorge geek and after logging in to notate 77R’s current whereabouts he mailed 77R in a letter to his niece Priscilla Perquad who would turn seven in ten days. Priscilla was thrilled to get twenty dollars from her Uncle Jed and spent it on two new outfits for Fashion Barbie doll. 77R thus came to rest in a cash register at a Toys 'R Us in Fargo, North Dakota.
The cashier bundled 77R up with a bunch of other twenties for the week’s deposit at the bank. There, the bill lay in a teller’s till for a few days until the peripatetic Joe Bradley, he of the busty wife Jane, got it when cashing a check. He’d hardly stepped to the door of the bank when he got a call on his cell phone–an emergency. Sheathing the money in his wallet, Joe got to his car and drove to…
…The junior high school where Doris, the younger of his two daughters, attended classes. He met her in the administration building. She asked him for some money for school supplies. He handed her 77R and asked, “Doris, honey, what’s the emergency?”
“I’m the only girl in my class without a glo-in-the-dark glue stick!”, wailed Doris. “All the others were laughing at me!” Joe, who admitedly did overindulge his daughters, just smiled and said, “Ok, honey, as long as it’s for a good reason.” Doris took 77R over to Walgreen’s after school to buy her glo-in-the-dark glue stick and some purple glittery eyeshadow. 77R was placed in the til of the chashier, Matilda Snappedbra where it staid until it was given in change for the purchase of…
…a large box of condoms by a statuesque woman named Harriet McKenna, about 5’10", and full-figured with a gamin haircut and loud clothing. She was starved for sex and not too particular, although she was keeping company with a well-educated man, a nuclear-physicist, recently widowed, with the name of Dr. Tim Werdin. Perhaps he would use them on her; she wanted some man to use them on her. With 77R the only bill in her wallet, she met Tim at a cheap restaurant and broached the subject to hm…
but he just patted her hand gently and said, “My dear, I’ve finally decided, and I want you to be the first to know… I’m gay.”
Harriet burst into tears, flung 77R onto the table to pay for her food but immediately left without eating. Dr. Werdin calmly ate his bacon cheeseburger and drank his root beer when it arrived, then walked away without another word. Their waitress, Clarissa Pohlberg, put 77R in the till and kept a big tip. It was another four days before the threadbare twenty was given as change to…
…a short Dutch woman, with flaming red hair, named Loora Oranjeboom. She was well known in the neighborhood and many people suspected her, her husband Pete, and their four children of dabbling in the magical arts. You’fd half expect to see her dressed like Mickey Mouse in Fantasia. The couple ate there with their two pre-teen daughters, Maria (8) and Katrina (12) and their 16-year-old son, Jan. Loora did sometimes seem to resemble Samantha Stevens (of Bewitched) but for the the most part she and her family behaved like normal people. After the meal, Pete took the kids home while Loora…
paid the bill and headed on over to the Stab 'n Shoot for her daily boilermaker and pickled egg, an indulgence she deigned herself as a reward for putting up with that insufferable Pete. She paid her tab with 77R, leaving a sizeable tip for the bartender, “Tex” Weinstein, whom she had a secret but unrequieted crush on. After his shift, “Tex” took 77R as part of his tip money because of the wheresgeorge sticker. After logging on to wheresgeorge to add 77Rs latest whereabouts, he headed on over to his favorite place…
…a combination bar & grill and Gypsy tearoom where Pete’s brother Dirk was a reader who doubled as a bartender. Tex had a pickled egg, too, which he paid 77R for; but he was losing his taste for them. He also had a Harvey Wallbanger. He asked Dirk about his magic ability, about which he had heard from Dirk’s sister-in-law, Loora; so when he finished the drink he followed Dirk into another room, the tearoom. Dirk put on a seer’s robe and sat down with Tex in front of a crystal ball. Tex wondered what he would see in there…
and was amazed when the ball became cloudy and then showed him, as if he were in the Wicked Witch’s orb in The Wizard of Oz, winning the lottery, writing a best-selling novel, cavorting with his favorite starlet, winning the Nobel Prize (for what, he couldn’t quite tell, as the picture got a little cloudy at that point).
“Wow!” Tex said, grinning like he’d never grinned before. “That’s just amazing! Does that mean I’m really going to do all of those things?”
“Not necessarily,” said Dirk, chewing a thumbnail. “This is, um, a, uh, very optimistic crystal ball. This isn’t, like, a promise or a warranty or anything, OK?”
Tex assured Dirk he wouldn’t hold him to it. Then he had another Harvey Wallbanger and strode out the door, whistling a merry tune, determined to do everything he could to realize the vision he’d just had. After buying a lottery ticket and some writing paper, he strolled over to the town library to look up Keira Knightley’s agent’s contact information.
At the end of the day, Dirk was closing the place down when he looked in the cash register and noticed the tattered 77R. He decided to…
…put some smaller bills in the till in its place. Then he went down to the neighborhood Starbucks, where he ordered a latte and a cinnamon roll, and paid with 77R.
At the end of the shift the barrista who closed up and balanced the register, saw 77R there with the wheresgeorge stamp on it. She exchanged it for a twenty of her own, locked and left the place, and went to…
…the all-night donut shop and internet café run by her brother’s girlfriend’s uncle’s ex-wife’s cousin, who was named Moe, but went by Jo. She went in and pointedly did not order a coffee. Sparkling water–light, clear, colourless, effervescent with all the possibilites of life that the coffee shop had drained out of her–that was what she wanted.
She laid the bill on the counter and indicated the worn and faded wheresgeorge stamp. “Jo? Ever seen anything like this?”
Jo said, “Oh, yes, I see these all the time. Why, I once got a $100 bill with the wheresgeorge stamp on it and ran it through–belonged to some guy out in Gardena, California. This bill, however, looks as though it’s on its last legs. You’d do better to take it to the band to retire it. Or I will.”
The barrista from Starbucks thought this over…