IV.

"Wauggha wauggha wauggha!" Gandalf politely replied as he repeatedly whipped past the lackey, his beard trailing like a comet.

"I'll....show....you.... (puff puff) who....rules....the.... (puff puff) laundry...." Saruman gasped through the cloud of starch flakes his activity had stirred up. "You.....better....."

That was as far as he got before the much-abused clothesline in his hands suddenly snapped sending his fellow Maia soaring upward with the graceful trajectory of a Pong game being played at high speed by chipmunks.

The lackey's jaw dropped as he watched the Grey wizard richocet upward into one of the ventilation slots.

"Where'd he go?" Saruman mumbled through his tangled hair and beard.

"He's on the r-r-roof!" the lackey stuttered.

"What?!" He struggled to his feet and ran to the nearest hidden stairwell.

Up above, Gandalf looked around in surprise. He was abruptly in daylight. Clothing flapped all about him, hung from lines strung between the tower horns. A large tub of bleach stood to one side. He nudged it to block the doorway.

By the time Saruman managed to break through, the work was done.

"Behold! Now I am the White Wizard!" Gandalf cried, resplendent in his shiny (if somewhat damp) robes.

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