seattle ; monday ft
When Sam finally swam back to consciousness, it felt like his brain was wounded and was trying to beat its way out of his skull. There was an awful taste in his mouth and his vision was blurry and stinging.
"Good morning, twinkle toes."
Sam groaned into his pillow and mana ged to say, "Good morning, Mrs. W." He didn't really questions why Mrs. W, the lady who used to his neighbor and was also a witch, was at his bedside. His life was strange. The fact that she sounded so cheerful annoyed Sam.
"Get up," Mrs. W said, "because you've got to drink some more tea."
From somewhere else in his room, Ramon's voice said, "And I'm supposed to remind you that your mother has a funnel."
Sam groaned and tried to hide further underneath his pillows and blankets. He didn't want to move. That's when Mrs. W grabbed the back of my hoodie and actually yanked me out of bed. Sam hit the floor and felt his stomach roil. He got to his feet quickly and stumbled into the bathroom, throwing up the meager contents of his stomach. He felt hungover and weak and tired. He stayed hovered over the toilet for a few moments before wobbling into the kitchen.
Mrs. W was holding out the tea for Sam when he made his way in there. Sam grimaced but took the tea.
"Once you've finished, I'll take you home," Mrs. W said.
"Where is everybody?" Sam asked, looking around.
"Work, library and James went home to 'run the house,'" Mrs. W relayed. Sam watched Mrs. W shift around uncomfortably and he knew something was being kept from him.
Before he could ask, Ramon said, "You better just show him. He's going to want to know."
Sam nodded. "Right, the door. I want to see how bad it was."
Nodding, Mrs. W walke quickly out of the kitchen and Sam followed slowly, gingerly, like he wasn't quite sure he was going to be able to remain upright. She took them to Haley's door. Sam stared at the door and the ragged hole in the middle of the door. The knife hadn't been in the front door. Someone had stuck the knife in Haley's bedroom door.
"Why didn't she tell me it was her door?" Sam asked darkly. "Someone broke in - was a few fucking feet from my baby sister - why the hell didn't she tell me?"
"What would you have done, Sam?" Mrs. W asked not unkindly. "It's not like this was the work of an ordinary burglar. They got past more than just deadbolts. They bypassed all the wards your mother has as well as the mundane security. And they made no sound, not a peep."
It felt like Sam's blood was made of ice right now. He felt afraid. "I could have sent some protection, at least. Sent James to help out and maybe secure the place. He secured my house. What kind of knife was it?"
"A dagger," Mrs W said. "You'll have to ask Haley for the details."
"I can smell blood," Ramon said, sniffing the air.
Mrs. W grimaced and nodded. "Yes, they wrote something on the door. Haley wouldn't tell me what. They were trying to keep it from you but...I don't think anymore secrets will help."
"I see." His family was good with secrets, that was for sure. He curled his fingers into fists and then release. So much had been kept from him. It was annoying.
Eventually, Mrs. W led them back to the kitchen. Sam tried not to dwell on the knife in Haley's door but wasn't quite successful. Someone had come after his baby sister and he hadn't been here. He was seriously afraid.
Sam took a seat at the kitchen table and his head pounded. "Can I have something for my headache?"
"You can have more tea," Mrs. W chirped.
"Thanks, but I'd rather have the headache," Sam said and rested his head against the kitchen table, watching the floor below him.
"I have yoga in an hour, kiddo, and if you think I'm going to miss the instructor's iron buns as he goes into downward dog, you are sorely mistaken. Let's pick up the pace."
Ramon shuddered over his coffee. "That's so wrong."
Mrs. W smacked the back of his head with the palm of her hand. "One does not wear spandex while waggling one's buns in front of a crowd without expecting some amount of ogling. It's human nature."
"It's objectification."
"No, it's appreciation. I'm not mentally turning him into a mindless fleshpot. He's a nice boy with a sweet disposition. It just so happens that I also admire his ass."
Sam groaned. "Can we stop talking about asses please? How can you be a morning person and a night owl? It's unnatural."
Mrs. W smiled over at him. "I eat right, exercise and every afternoon I do a shot of whiskey before a twenty minute power nap. Does the body wonders."
Sam wondered if she was serious and when he saw the look on her face, he realized she was. "You must have been unstoppable in your youth."
"Still am. Now drink."
Sam ignored the whining and general complaining his body was giving out and drank slowly. Betweens sips that he managed to keep in his stomach, he asked Mrs. W why his body was reacting the way it was.
"Good question and we're actually not sure though we can guess. You met up with something very powerful last night, that is something we're sure of. But whatever the cause, the effect is the same."
"A hangover?" Sam asked.
"Sort of, yes," Mrs. W said after some thought. "More like a spiritual hangover. The thing you met was so full of magic and energy and all around mojo that it overwhelmed you."
"So...I was drunk?" Sam asked.
Mrs. W nodded. "About as good a way to put it, yes."
Sam finished the rest of his tea. "This happen often?"
Mrs. W shook her head. "I've only seen it happen once before. An older man went into the woods to get in touch with Mother Nature."
"What happened to him?" Ramon asked curiously.
"When he didn't come back on time, we went looking for him. I found him in the water happily getting hypothermia, half drowned because he thought the glacial river was pretty," Mrs. W told him.
"Ah."
"You ready to go?" she asked.
Sam nodded and went to wash his mug but, with his still shaking hands, he nearly dropped it twice. Mrs. W took it from him gently and washed it for him. Then, she got us into her car.
As we got into the car, Ramon told me about Natalie being there.
"She was?" Sam asked, not remembering it. "Was she all right?"
"Pretty upset to see you how you were," Ramon said, buckling himself into his seat. "Stayed for awhile. Guarded your door."
Sam frowned. "I don't remember that. She didn't stay?"
He remembered desperately wanting her to be there before he'd passed out the other day and knowing that she was and he'd missed it...his heart hurt.
"She did but she had to go back. You were out for awhile, bro."
Sam nodded and looked down at his hands. There were...jagged memories in head, memories of someone's hands on his face and a song but he couldn't remember if that was Natalie or not. He missed her. But, he wasn't able to think of her too long because Mrs. W gunned the engine and took off.
Any good feelings that the tea had given me were pretty much erased by Mrs. W's driving. She was like some insane stunt driver and Sam's stomach rolled again. Ramon was clutching his seat belt and his eyes were closed. Safe to say we were both anticipating the end of this ride.
When they eventually pulled up to Sam's house, he let out a sigh of relief and actually leaned against his own beat up car. It took him a second to realize something was off with that too. His tires had been slashed. Of course.
Sam settled a suspicious eye on the Ramon guys on the pediment, the Minotaur on the lawn, and the gnomes that were not looking at me. Could be any of them. Any of the characters in this weird house could have slashed his tires. But, Sam was too tired to deal with now.
James was seated at the table reading the paper when Sam walked in. "I've already called a tow service. That thing needs a tune-up anyway. In the meantime, you'll just have to cope with the injustice of driving one of our other cars. A hardship, I know.”
"Not now, James." Sam just wanted to crawl into his bed and die. Not really.
"Going to your room to mope, while wholly in character, is not the optimal choice at the moment," James said pointedly.
"Yeah, well…” Sam walked off, leaving the sentence unfinished, a move sure to tick off James. He didn't care. Everyone else seemed pissed at him, so why not just add James to the list?
When he got to his bedroom, he threw himself down on his bed, letting his muscles relax. It felt good...for the moment. And then he realized something was wrong here too. He smelled something familiar. Sam sniffed the comforter and smelled piss. Pee. And it was now on his shirt and shorts. Look, he needed to change anyway but this was it.
Pissed, Sam changed into clean clothes and threw the dirty clothes into the hamper. And that's when he realized his room had been TP'ed and there was a scratching noise coming from the cabinet. Warily, Sam went and opened it. A striped skunk darted by with a tiny garden gnome riding on its back and yelling "yippee-ki-yay!” as it went out the door.
Sam stood there, fuming, trying to decide what to do. First off, he pulled the dirty comforter off his bed and walked outside noisily. James, who had changed back into kitty form, followed after him and asked what was wrong. Sam ignored him and threw the piss stained comforter down on the grass.
The yard was quiet. None of the statues moved, no one looked Sam's way.
"House meeting, right fucking now!" Sam growled. "James?"
"Yes, Master?"
"I want a sledgehammer and a dumpster."
James flicked his tail and morphed back into human form, pulling out his phone. That was when Sam's yard came to life. The statues busted free in a cloud of dust, the gnomes slunk over from the flower bed, and the little gladiator guys slid down from their pediment. While Sam was glaring, Frank pulled up. He didn't say anything, just joined the crowd. Ramon was off a ways near the half pipe but was paying attention.
Everyone formed a semi circle around Sam. "Sit," he growled, pointing to the ground. "I want to make something very clear so you all need to listen. This includes the shrubbery."
Sam was sure the bushes dipped down in embarrasment. "Now, I've tried ot be good-natured about everything, accepting all the harrassment as well meant hazing." He started ticking things off on his fingers. "The tires, short-sheeting my bed, taking staged incriminating photos of me in my sleep, and so on. Have to test the new guy, I get it. But I've had enough."
Sam glared at each of them, telling them with that expression that he meant business. "Like it or not, I own this house now. Like it or not, you guys are my responsibility. I've tried to be understanding, but apparently that just isn't cutting it.”
The Minotaur scuffed at the grass with his hoof. The gladiators were also looking at their toes. The gnomes seemed defiant. Of course.
"I know you guys had a lot of change this year. You've lost…” Sam stopped, wondering what to call Douglas to them. A friend? A boss? A guy? He didn't know but they had been attached to Douglas and he was definitely not Douglas. "You lost someone important to you. I am sorry for that. But this”-Sam motioned to the comforter-"has got to stop.”
The group was Silent and Sam could tell his speech wasn't working. His anger was dissolving and more than anything, he just wanted to get the situation back under control. He looked down at the gnomes.
"You guys," he said, watching them come to attention at his address, "No, I don't want to fight. You have a leader, right?"
The gnomes huddled up, conversing quietly and Sam waited. Finally, they pushed forth a spokesman.
"You have a name?" Sam asked.
"Twinkle."
"Twinkle," Sam repeated slowly.
"Twinkle the Destroyer," he continued.
"Your name is Twinkle the Destroyer?"
Twinkle nodded.
"Okay, Twinkle the Destroyer, I take it you guys have been popping my tires?" Sam asked. "And causing general mayhem?"
He nodded proudly. "Yes, though the Minotaur was conscripted for tire duty. He handled it with the soul of a warrior.” He beamed at the Minotaur, who was managing to not make full eye contact with me. "We even set his pants on fire yesterday.” He pointed at Frank, who shrugged sheepishly.
"You had a lot going on,” he said. "I didn't want to add.”
Sam turned back to Twinkle. "You set Frank's pants on fire?"
"Yes. Death to the infidels!” The rest of the gnomes erupted into a cheer, brandishing their assorted lawn equipment with glee.
"Right,” Sam said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration and praying for patience. "You know that means nonbeliever, right? So what are you accusing me of not believing in?”
Another pointy-hatted huddle. Twinkle came back to the forefront and shouted, "Death to the new guys and their non-jam-delivering policies!” They proceeded to high-five one another.
Sam leaned over towards James, who had turned back into a cat now, and asked, "Non-jam delivering policies?"
James flicked his whiskeres and Sam could swear he looked amused. "Douglas used to have me give them regular payments of jam, root beer, et cetera, to buy their loyalty.”
"And you didn't tell me this because?"
James flicked his whiskers again. "You didn't ask."
Of course.
"You practically run the place, why didn't you do it?” Sam wondered.
James sniffed in what Sam thought was a very haughty manner, his tiny pink nose stuck in the air. "I run the house, not the rabble. Do you expect me to do everything? My schedule is already filled to bursting with all the new people moving in, the extra shopping-”
Sam cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I get it, I get it." Sam ran a hand over his face, still feeling tired. So, essentially, the security force was pissed off because they hadn't been paid. Sam couldn't really argue with that. He'd have been pissed off too.
"Frank.” He got up from his seat on the lawn and came over. "I want you to get your clipboard and come back out. Quickly, please.”
Once Frank returned, Sam grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up to face the group. "Okay, most of you know Frank already, but I'd like to reintroduce him as the head of human resources.” Sam got a lot of blank stares. One of the little gladiators used his sword to scratch his head.
"This means that Frank will be your go-to guy. He'll oversee your problems, make sure you get paid-whatever you need, Frank will handle it.” Sam pushed Frank closer to the rabble. "He will sort this out.”
To his credit, Frank stepped up and immediately got to work. "Now, what kind of jam do you prefer?"
Sam slipped back into the house.
[NFB. Lifted lovingly from Necromancing the Stone. This was a super long chapter but it's one of my favorites. Open, if needed.]
"Good morning, twinkle toes."
Sam groaned into his pillow and mana ged to say, "Good morning, Mrs. W." He didn't really questions why Mrs. W, the lady who used to his neighbor and was also a witch, was at his bedside. His life was strange. The fact that she sounded so cheerful annoyed Sam.
"Get up," Mrs. W said, "because you've got to drink some more tea."
From somewhere else in his room, Ramon's voice said, "And I'm supposed to remind you that your mother has a funnel."
Sam groaned and tried to hide further underneath his pillows and blankets. He didn't want to move. That's when Mrs. W grabbed the back of my hoodie and actually yanked me out of bed. Sam hit the floor and felt his stomach roil. He got to his feet quickly and stumbled into the bathroom, throwing up the meager contents of his stomach. He felt hungover and weak and tired. He stayed hovered over the toilet for a few moments before wobbling into the kitchen.
Mrs. W was holding out the tea for Sam when he made his way in there. Sam grimaced but took the tea.
"Once you've finished, I'll take you home," Mrs. W said.
"Where is everybody?" Sam asked, looking around.
"Work, library and James went home to 'run the house,'" Mrs. W relayed. Sam watched Mrs. W shift around uncomfortably and he knew something was being kept from him.
Before he could ask, Ramon said, "You better just show him. He's going to want to know."
Sam nodded. "Right, the door. I want to see how bad it was."
Nodding, Mrs. W walke quickly out of the kitchen and Sam followed slowly, gingerly, like he wasn't quite sure he was going to be able to remain upright. She took them to Haley's door. Sam stared at the door and the ragged hole in the middle of the door. The knife hadn't been in the front door. Someone had stuck the knife in Haley's bedroom door.
"Why didn't she tell me it was her door?" Sam asked darkly. "Someone broke in - was a few fucking feet from my baby sister - why the hell didn't she tell me?"
"What would you have done, Sam?" Mrs. W asked not unkindly. "It's not like this was the work of an ordinary burglar. They got past more than just deadbolts. They bypassed all the wards your mother has as well as the mundane security. And they made no sound, not a peep."
It felt like Sam's blood was made of ice right now. He felt afraid. "I could have sent some protection, at least. Sent James to help out and maybe secure the place. He secured my house. What kind of knife was it?"
"A dagger," Mrs W said. "You'll have to ask Haley for the details."
"I can smell blood," Ramon said, sniffing the air.
Mrs. W grimaced and nodded. "Yes, they wrote something on the door. Haley wouldn't tell me what. They were trying to keep it from you but...I don't think anymore secrets will help."
"I see." His family was good with secrets, that was for sure. He curled his fingers into fists and then release. So much had been kept from him. It was annoying.
Eventually, Mrs. W led them back to the kitchen. Sam tried not to dwell on the knife in Haley's door but wasn't quite successful. Someone had come after his baby sister and he hadn't been here. He was seriously afraid.
Sam took a seat at the kitchen table and his head pounded. "Can I have something for my headache?"
"You can have more tea," Mrs. W chirped.
"Thanks, but I'd rather have the headache," Sam said and rested his head against the kitchen table, watching the floor below him.
"I have yoga in an hour, kiddo, and if you think I'm going to miss the instructor's iron buns as he goes into downward dog, you are sorely mistaken. Let's pick up the pace."
Ramon shuddered over his coffee. "That's so wrong."
Mrs. W smacked the back of his head with the palm of her hand. "One does not wear spandex while waggling one's buns in front of a crowd without expecting some amount of ogling. It's human nature."
"It's objectification."
"No, it's appreciation. I'm not mentally turning him into a mindless fleshpot. He's a nice boy with a sweet disposition. It just so happens that I also admire his ass."
Sam groaned. "Can we stop talking about asses please? How can you be a morning person and a night owl? It's unnatural."
Mrs. W smiled over at him. "I eat right, exercise and every afternoon I do a shot of whiskey before a twenty minute power nap. Does the body wonders."
Sam wondered if she was serious and when he saw the look on her face, he realized she was. "You must have been unstoppable in your youth."
"Still am. Now drink."
Sam ignored the whining and general complaining his body was giving out and drank slowly. Betweens sips that he managed to keep in his stomach, he asked Mrs. W why his body was reacting the way it was.
"Good question and we're actually not sure though we can guess. You met up with something very powerful last night, that is something we're sure of. But whatever the cause, the effect is the same."
"A hangover?" Sam asked.
"Sort of, yes," Mrs. W said after some thought. "More like a spiritual hangover. The thing you met was so full of magic and energy and all around mojo that it overwhelmed you."
"So...I was drunk?" Sam asked.
Mrs. W nodded. "About as good a way to put it, yes."
Sam finished the rest of his tea. "This happen often?"
Mrs. W shook her head. "I've only seen it happen once before. An older man went into the woods to get in touch with Mother Nature."
"What happened to him?" Ramon asked curiously.
"When he didn't come back on time, we went looking for him. I found him in the water happily getting hypothermia, half drowned because he thought the glacial river was pretty," Mrs. W told him.
"Ah."
"You ready to go?" she asked.
Sam nodded and went to wash his mug but, with his still shaking hands, he nearly dropped it twice. Mrs. W took it from him gently and washed it for him. Then, she got us into her car.
As we got into the car, Ramon told me about Natalie being there.
"She was?" Sam asked, not remembering it. "Was she all right?"
"Pretty upset to see you how you were," Ramon said, buckling himself into his seat. "Stayed for awhile. Guarded your door."
Sam frowned. "I don't remember that. She didn't stay?"
He remembered desperately wanting her to be there before he'd passed out the other day and knowing that she was and he'd missed it...his heart hurt.
"She did but she had to go back. You were out for awhile, bro."
Sam nodded and looked down at his hands. There were...jagged memories in head, memories of someone's hands on his face and a song but he couldn't remember if that was Natalie or not. He missed her. But, he wasn't able to think of her too long because Mrs. W gunned the engine and took off.
Any good feelings that the tea had given me were pretty much erased by Mrs. W's driving. She was like some insane stunt driver and Sam's stomach rolled again. Ramon was clutching his seat belt and his eyes were closed. Safe to say we were both anticipating the end of this ride.
When they eventually pulled up to Sam's house, he let out a sigh of relief and actually leaned against his own beat up car. It took him a second to realize something was off with that too. His tires had been slashed. Of course.
Sam settled a suspicious eye on the Ramon guys on the pediment, the Minotaur on the lawn, and the gnomes that were not looking at me. Could be any of them. Any of the characters in this weird house could have slashed his tires. But, Sam was too tired to deal with now.
James was seated at the table reading the paper when Sam walked in. "I've already called a tow service. That thing needs a tune-up anyway. In the meantime, you'll just have to cope with the injustice of driving one of our other cars. A hardship, I know.”
"Not now, James." Sam just wanted to crawl into his bed and die. Not really.
"Going to your room to mope, while wholly in character, is not the optimal choice at the moment," James said pointedly.
"Yeah, well…” Sam walked off, leaving the sentence unfinished, a move sure to tick off James. He didn't care. Everyone else seemed pissed at him, so why not just add James to the list?
When he got to his bedroom, he threw himself down on his bed, letting his muscles relax. It felt good...for the moment. And then he realized something was wrong here too. He smelled something familiar. Sam sniffed the comforter and smelled piss. Pee. And it was now on his shirt and shorts. Look, he needed to change anyway but this was it.
Pissed, Sam changed into clean clothes and threw the dirty clothes into the hamper. And that's when he realized his room had been TP'ed and there was a scratching noise coming from the cabinet. Warily, Sam went and opened it. A striped skunk darted by with a tiny garden gnome riding on its back and yelling "yippee-ki-yay!” as it went out the door.
Sam stood there, fuming, trying to decide what to do. First off, he pulled the dirty comforter off his bed and walked outside noisily. James, who had changed back into kitty form, followed after him and asked what was wrong. Sam ignored him and threw the piss stained comforter down on the grass.
The yard was quiet. None of the statues moved, no one looked Sam's way.
"House meeting, right fucking now!" Sam growled. "James?"
"Yes, Master?"
"I want a sledgehammer and a dumpster."
James flicked his tail and morphed back into human form, pulling out his phone. That was when Sam's yard came to life. The statues busted free in a cloud of dust, the gnomes slunk over from the flower bed, and the little gladiator guys slid down from their pediment. While Sam was glaring, Frank pulled up. He didn't say anything, just joined the crowd. Ramon was off a ways near the half pipe but was paying attention.
Everyone formed a semi circle around Sam. "Sit," he growled, pointing to the ground. "I want to make something very clear so you all need to listen. This includes the shrubbery."
Sam was sure the bushes dipped down in embarrasment. "Now, I've tried ot be good-natured about everything, accepting all the harrassment as well meant hazing." He started ticking things off on his fingers. "The tires, short-sheeting my bed, taking staged incriminating photos of me in my sleep, and so on. Have to test the new guy, I get it. But I've had enough."
Sam glared at each of them, telling them with that expression that he meant business. "Like it or not, I own this house now. Like it or not, you guys are my responsibility. I've tried to be understanding, but apparently that just isn't cutting it.”
The Minotaur scuffed at the grass with his hoof. The gladiators were also looking at their toes. The gnomes seemed defiant. Of course.
"I know you guys had a lot of change this year. You've lost…” Sam stopped, wondering what to call Douglas to them. A friend? A boss? A guy? He didn't know but they had been attached to Douglas and he was definitely not Douglas. "You lost someone important to you. I am sorry for that. But this”-Sam motioned to the comforter-"has got to stop.”
The group was Silent and Sam could tell his speech wasn't working. His anger was dissolving and more than anything, he just wanted to get the situation back under control. He looked down at the gnomes.
"You guys," he said, watching them come to attention at his address, "No, I don't want to fight. You have a leader, right?"
The gnomes huddled up, conversing quietly and Sam waited. Finally, they pushed forth a spokesman.
"You have a name?" Sam asked.
"Twinkle."
"Twinkle," Sam repeated slowly.
"Twinkle the Destroyer," he continued.
"Your name is Twinkle the Destroyer?"
Twinkle nodded.
"Okay, Twinkle the Destroyer, I take it you guys have been popping my tires?" Sam asked. "And causing general mayhem?"
He nodded proudly. "Yes, though the Minotaur was conscripted for tire duty. He handled it with the soul of a warrior.” He beamed at the Minotaur, who was managing to not make full eye contact with me. "We even set his pants on fire yesterday.” He pointed at Frank, who shrugged sheepishly.
"You had a lot going on,” he said. "I didn't want to add.”
Sam turned back to Twinkle. "You set Frank's pants on fire?"
"Yes. Death to the infidels!” The rest of the gnomes erupted into a cheer, brandishing their assorted lawn equipment with glee.
"Right,” Sam said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration and praying for patience. "You know that means nonbeliever, right? So what are you accusing me of not believing in?”
Another pointy-hatted huddle. Twinkle came back to the forefront and shouted, "Death to the new guys and their non-jam-delivering policies!” They proceeded to high-five one another.
Sam leaned over towards James, who had turned back into a cat now, and asked, "Non-jam delivering policies?"
James flicked his whiskeres and Sam could swear he looked amused. "Douglas used to have me give them regular payments of jam, root beer, et cetera, to buy their loyalty.”
"And you didn't tell me this because?"
James flicked his whiskers again. "You didn't ask."
Of course.
"You practically run the place, why didn't you do it?” Sam wondered.
James sniffed in what Sam thought was a very haughty manner, his tiny pink nose stuck in the air. "I run the house, not the rabble. Do you expect me to do everything? My schedule is already filled to bursting with all the new people moving in, the extra shopping-”
Sam cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I get it, I get it." Sam ran a hand over his face, still feeling tired. So, essentially, the security force was pissed off because they hadn't been paid. Sam couldn't really argue with that. He'd have been pissed off too.
"Frank.” He got up from his seat on the lawn and came over. "I want you to get your clipboard and come back out. Quickly, please.”
Once Frank returned, Sam grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up to face the group. "Okay, most of you know Frank already, but I'd like to reintroduce him as the head of human resources.” Sam got a lot of blank stares. One of the little gladiators used his sword to scratch his head.
"This means that Frank will be your go-to guy. He'll oversee your problems, make sure you get paid-whatever you need, Frank will handle it.” Sam pushed Frank closer to the rabble. "He will sort this out.”
To his credit, Frank stepped up and immediately got to work. "Now, what kind of jam do you prefer?"
Sam slipped back into the house.
[NFB. Lifted lovingly from Necromancing the Stone. This was a super long chapter but it's one of my favorites. Open, if needed.]