Where’s home for you?” asked Henri. “Here,” they replied in unison. “Not that it’s a great place,” said Pedro dejectedly. “I mean, before coming to the circus, where was home?” “Oh, now that was a nice place,” said Pablo. “Wasn’t it, Pedro?” “Sure was. I remember it well. Nice juicy flesh. Blood had an outdoorsy type of taste…like a breezy summer’s day by the seaside.” “Yes,” continued Pablo, “but there was a hint of citrus too and such a sweet aftertaste.” “I think that his name might have been John,” said Pedro. “No, it was Jean!” said Pablo. “I was thinking the country or the town you come from, not the person you resided on! Just forget it!” said an exasperated Henri. Based on their names, Henri had to assume that Pedro and Pablo were from Spain, or maybe Italy. He felt an obligation to them, for no matter how hopeless the two fleas had been, the fact remained that Pedro was now an amputee. Since they were unable to give Henri any better idea of where they came from, he decided to send them to Valencia, Spain.
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