AD-ROCK AND MIKE D were in the Raeapteek. Ad-Rock was wearing his red t-shirt and Mike D toted a stolen VW hood ornament around his neck. It was a summer’s day and there was light through the windows. It fell upon the jars of burnt bees, bleached dog feces, dried deer penises, and other potent medieval remedies. They were impressed, to say the least, especially by the thick, ancient volumes of the Burchard family, the original owners of the apothecary which, to their surprise, were full of dope rhymes about wack aldermen and fly maidens.

I be smokin’ roaches in the vestibule, in the next millennium I’ll still be old school.

“But where’s Yauch,” I asked? “Yauch went to Helsinki,” Ad-Rock said. “He did what?” “Yeah, he wanted to go to Linnanmäki. To see the amusement park.” I could picture him then, with his nose to the sea, sniffing at the Gulf of Finland. But I was worried about Yauch. After Linnanmäki, he might go to the aquarium. After the aquarium, to Heureka. After Heureka, straight to Serena Water Park. My main worry was that Yauch might never come back. He’d be stuck in Finland forever. He might even wind up in Oulu. He’d be over there and we’d be over here. We’d have our dope rhymes and bleached dog feces, but it just wouldn’t be the same.

“Hey man, you don’t need to worry,” Ad-Rock said softly and put his hand on my shoulder. “Yauch always comes back.”