This morning, Dad and The Boy went shopping and all but bought the whole store. True, this October was colder than usual, but The Boy thought it was too early to start stocking up to last a whole winter. He had asked his father if they were planning to hibernate or something, to which the man had no reply. All day he kept checking his text messages from Akitake Goto, who apparently was still pestering him, despite the father having blocked his number multiple times. Tensions were high all morning, and The Boy guessed – though Dad said little out loud these past few weeks – that the 800,000 yen he owed still wasn't paid off and was maybe even gaining digits.
After a very tense and quiet fast food brunch where Dad stared at his phone the entire time, The Boy and his father dragged their numerous brown bags through the small apartment doorframe. Dad dropped the sacks of rice at the foot of the counter and asked him to help unload things into the kitchen while he went immediately to the desk in his room to check some banking information. When the man was gone for only a moment, there was a knock on the front door.
"Dad!" the youth called, "Someone's at the door!"
There was no answer.
"Do you want me to get it??"
Not a sound came from the master bedroom, the man was probably too immersed in his anxiety to even hear his son's voice. The Boy went to the door and cracked it open, not unlatching the chain, to see who was there (because apparently these shoddy apartments were too cheap to even include peek-holes for the doors.) The teen near wet himself, finding a man's face close above his against the door from the other side. His bird-like eyes scanning the child sadistically.
"G-Goto-san...?" the teen recognized the man; he'd seen him visit his father a long time ago before all this trouble started.
"Heya, kid." The man slurred, pressing closer to the door still, "Undo this lock for me?"
The Boy pressed his shoulder against the door, pushing it closed with all his might but the man had his boot jammed in the hinge.
"Fine. Have it your way." the latter sang drolly and relented.
The door slammed abruptly shut under the child. An instant later the knob was barged back at him from the outside, knocking him flat on his back on the floor mat. Scooting back quickly The Boy jumped to his feet as Goto-san let himself in and closed the door, busted with its knob loosely rattling against the frame.
Goto-san was emaciated and thin-faced, and he had a cigarette hanging from his wrinkly mouth.
"Dad...!" The Boy called, his voice cracking a little.
"Aight, runt, let's cut the crap." said the intruder's gratingly croaky drawl, leaning forward with hands on his lanky knees. "Ya probably noticed your pops and me got ourselves into a lil' bit of a pickle; owes me a big-ass check. So how 'bout you and me make a little deal, hm?"
"Get out of our house." The Boy scowled.
"Here's the deal," the man went on carelessly, "Ya sneak into your pop's safe, get my money, and I give ya half the sum. Shake on it?"
The Boy's throat went rigid at the smell of his cig. "As if you'd actually give me a single yen of it..." He retorted, covering his mouth and masking a cough.
Goto-san urged, "Okay, how 'bout I give ya half the sum and some very interesting picture books. Used to read 'em all the time when I was your age. How old are ya now? Twelve?"
"Almost fourteen." The teen snapped.
"Yeah, ya'd love 'em!"
The Boy glared. "I don't know what kind of hormonal moron you think I am but I'm not going to get into my Dad's money just for some second-hand pornos. Get out of our house!"
Goto-san's expression went sour and he took a long drawl of his cigarette again, this time puffing it straight into the teen's face before standing tall.
The Boy's windpipes cinched like someone tied them in knots. Hacking and gagging, the child nearly bent double, eyes pinched closed as the sordid taste of tar scorched his shriveling lungs. At the sound of his gasping came heavy footsteps behind him and a hard smack on his back. Dad shoved an inhaler into his hands and stood between Goto-san and his son.
The intruder straightened his posture, not in the slightest afraid of Dad's appearance. "Got yourself a loyal lil kid here, don't ya."
"Get out of my house."
Goto-san slowly gazed back at the groceries on the counter The Boy hadn't finished unpacking. "Glad to see you're enjoying spending my money."
"Last I checked," said Dad dangerously, "Buying groceries isn't a crime. But I'm pretty sure breaking and entering is."
"As is withholding another man's money past the allotted time to pay it back. An ex-cop ought to know that."
"I told you, Akitake-kun, I'll pay you back as soon as I get the money!"
"Yeah, ya said that last time, then ya went to gamble some more... then ya said it again, and again and actually I think it's been 'bout half a year since you've been telling me that." purred Goto-san. He stepped closer to the parent as he spoke, unafraid despite the daunting difference in mass ratio between Dad and him. "But when exactly are we gonna stop sayin' and start doing, huh?"
"I told you." Dad was on the verge of growling, not angry, but like an alpha being challenged. "As soon as I get the money."
That was like gasoline to the manic greed burning in Goto-san's eyes. In the blink of an eye he had drawn and raised a thick blade up at the other's face. The Boy jumped out of his skin at the sight of the shiny knife. Dad didn't flinch in the slightest.
"D-Dad...!" The Boy frozen watched the blade hovering less than an inch from his father's throat.
The intruder sucked air through gritted teeth. "Didn't anyone ever tell ya that ya don't bet what ya can't pay, dumbass?!"
The Boy threw himself at Goto-san, trying to pull his arm away from his father but to no avail. The men held each other's gazes locked.
"Dad...??" The Boy choked on the smoke still.
His father's arm grabbed him and tossed him aside like a paperweight. "Go to your room."
"Dad, he broke in, we should be calling the cops!"
Sharply swinging a hand in the air, Dad swatted his fist over Goto-san's wrist, twisting it upward and out. The latter gave a cry, his arm seconds away from being snapped in half. But his trembling fingers refused to relent the blade.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," said Dad. "Your record isn't exactly pristine either. You want me to tell the kid to call the police? I think we both know whose side they'll always take in the end."
Goto-san's hand wavered a little longer before the knife slowly slipped from his fingers. The Boy rushed forward and snatched it up, gulping another breath from his inhaler. Dad released the intruder who quickly took several steps backwards, the fire in his eyes yearning for revenge nevertheless. A curdled kind of laugh left his mouth deliberately.
"Yeah, I know." He sneered at Dad. "We've all heard of what ya did to that woman o' yours in court. But I also know ya got some less than pretty rumors going 'round." Here he paused for a pointed glance at The Boy, "Somethin' tells me with the right witness' testimony they might not be so willing to overlook your crimes as they were back then."
The Boy took a few steps back from Dad and Goto-san to see his father's expression.
"Did ya really think all your old buddies were gonna cover your ass forever?" Goto-san went on with another laugh, "Nah, all it'd take would be for this fella here to blab 'bout your fascination with belt floggin' and you're done for."
Dad lost it. "Get out of my house!!"
"Ya won't call the cops!" Goto-san laughed. "You won't risk them looking further into your record. And you're right, I wouldn't either. But I don't need no law-man's help to get my business done; ya know I got my resources."
The teen could almost perceive the red Dad was seeing. "If you don't get the hell out I will drag your unconscious body out myself."
"No need. I just came to give ya a due warnin'." Goto-san retreated to the door, opening it and loitering in the frame. "Get my money before December unless you wanna face hell from my resources. I don't need to remind ya what happened to the last fella who cheated me, do I?"
Goto-san stepped out finally, singing over his shoulder, "Don't forget I already know some great places to hide a body!"
A very long silence ensued as Dad sat down and laid his head on the table. The Boy slowly moved to close the door.
"Dad," he asked, "What kind of 'resources' was he talking about??"
The man exhaled heavily with face still hidden and made no reply. Resentment simmered for all the futile questions he knew his father would never answer, but he didn't feel like getting beaten to a pulp. Instead he pulled a tight knit-beanie over his tussled hair, boots on his feet, and grabbed the satchel out of his room, making for the door.
"Where do you think you're going??" Dad sat up abruptly.
The Boy didn't even look at his father as he stepped out the door, still choking a cough. "What does it look like I'm doing? I need air and you need money. I'm going collecting."
It wasn't until he reached the nippy air outside the building that he realized he hadn't grabbed his skateboard. But he didn't care. He needed a walk.
The surge of questions was tortuous. Was Goto-san trying to say Dad had been protected by the police somehow when he was facing Mom in court? Was that still the case now? And what was with that last statement about hiding a body...?
"He was bluffing, for sure." He told himself over and over. "He had to be."
The cold air and stress didn't allow his windpipes to fully unravel themselves from that breath of smoke, so by the time he reached the alleyways behind the neighborhood he was nearly panting from the walk. Yet, as his eyes fell on those red bricks under his feet, warmth soothed a part of his chest. The bricks always let him know he was almost home.
But the display windows of Heavenlee were black, the door sign reading closed. He thought it was weird, and his heart sank heavily to see she wasn't there. The bakery was never closed on Fridays. But on the inside of the glass he found a sticky note posted, addressed to him. It read:
Taking a day off. I do have a very important job for you, though. I'll be at the shrine between 3:00 and 6:00 waiting for you. Please come as soon as you read this.
Although he'd never visited this shrine before he knew exactly which she was referring to – she only talked about it a hundred times a day. His wristwatch told it was a quarter to five, so he hurried back to the main street.
On his way there, The Boy hoped whatever work she had for him would at least solicit some sort of paycheck, seeing as Dad would not likely let him get off without a beating tonight if he didn't bring home some sort of cash and he didn't want to have to use the money out of his secret personal savings. With wonderings of what the old lady had in mind to distract his anxiety, the walk through the town square went faster than the walk to the bakery. Beyond the suburban streets of this sect of Tokyo, was the rural bullet train station where he'd talked to Ryuuji-san a couple years ago. Surrounding it were grasslands and a dirt road. The dirt road broke off into a cobblestone path. The plains of the trail were only thinly treed. On his way, he passed a single pair of hikers but other than that it didn't seem to be a well-known trail. The humidity of the cold air increased as he got farther into the forest. It was a lucky thing he'd brought his inhaler, and he hoped he'd find the baker soon, preferably somewhere he could sit and take a breather.
He was used to walking, but the change in weather was doing a number on his asthma which had seemed to be worsening every year. This fall he'd gotten sick from it countless times already, seven of which were bad enough he had to stay home from school. The nippy breeze was creating a slight fevered chill in his bones even now. He could already feel it: this was going to be a hellish winter on his decrepit lungs.
Nevertheless it was a pleasant walk, the leafless woods reminding him of those happy memories he used to keep in the forest beyond the wall stored away in a shoebox. Finally he came to the stone path leading up to the Shinto shrine where an engraved rock with a coverlet of moss read the name of our friend Tenjin. In front of the humble temple was a single bench at the foot of the steps like the others found along the trail, which continued winding on around and along a koi pond behind the structure that was no bigger than a small shack and fenced in by short bamboo pikes. About ten yards away, The Boy scanned the area for the old lady. There wasn't a person in sight. But there was a strange looking figure sprawled out on ground beside the bench...
"...Ma'am!!"
The Boy's feet covered the distance in seconds and he was on his hands and knees before the old woman. She had a hand on the seat of the bench trembling trying to pull herself up where she lay on her side in the grass. She didn't need to ask for help, the child already had thrown his small frame beneath her weight gently, slowly, assisting her off the ground.
"What happened?!" His petite arms were strong as he tenderly set her down on the seat and helped her sit up straight. "Did you faint?? Are you hurt? Do I need to go get a doctor??"
"No... no, I'm alright. I just stumbled and bumped my head a little."
She huffed a timid laugh and her shaky hands squeezed his arms for support. He knelt in front of her, wide eyed and panicked as she chuckled. She didn't seem to hear him very well.
He clapped her gently on the cheek and waved a hand in front of her eyes. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
She squinted and replied four. He was holding two. She didn't look to pale, and feeling her pulse he found it normal. He gave her a minute, held up his fingers again and this time she answered correctly. The Boy, still kneeling in front of her, sat back on his heels with a heavy sigh and hung his head.
"I promise I'm alright, dear." she insisted. "I'm sorry I scared you."
"How long were you lying there??"
"Maybe five minutes... or ten, I don't know."
He cursed under his breath and she urged him to calm down.
"There's nothing wrong with me, okay? It's just my hip again." She said more cognitively now. "Usually walking helps work out the kinks but, I guess that walk from the station to here isn't getting any easier, hehe..."
Despite her attempts to laugh it off his brows were still deeply stitched.
"This is why I said you shouldn't do this stuff alone!" His tone was rigid, "No more hiking unless I'm with you, got it?"
She hesitated, her expression on the verge of hardening at the suggestion of her weakness. She must have seen the worry in his eyes though, for she gradually nodded agreement. The Boy sighed again and stifled some left-over wheezing coughs.
"You're flushed." She said, "Are you getting a cold?"
"Forget me." He retorted, swallowing hard and sitting beside her heavily "If you worried as much about yourself as you do me then I wouldn't have had to run like that."
"I'm so sorry. I know you're immune system has been down lately, I shouldn't have asked you to come all the way out here. Let's go home."
"Let's sit for a second first." He groaned breathlessly after a solid draw from his inhaler. "Besides, I thought you had work for me?"
She giggled bashfully and admitted she only wanted him here to keep her company.
"I swear, Ma'am..." he grumbled. "You'll be the death of me."
The rosy color had come back to her eyes now. "I love you too, dear."
The vibrant red and orange leaves surrounding them starkly contrasted the gray overcast sky. It was a peaceful enough sort of place, even if the breeze was a bit nippy. He decided he'd risk his chances catching a cold. The old lady needed to sit and be peaceful for a little while before he should try to move her again. It was now he noticed the small drip of red running down her temple, already starting to swell.
"'Bumped my head a little' my butt..." he griped, fishing into his satchel. "You be thankful I happened to leave my jar of cream in here the other day and I still have clean napkins from lunch."
After wiping the blood away he scooped into the jar with two fingers and started applying a generous amount to her temple. She closed her eyes and hummed happily.
"What are you smiling for?" he glared.
"Can't help it." She tittered. "Every girl loves being fretted over by men."
Grabbing an emergency bandage out a pocket of the bag, he tore it open with his teeth.
"Don't flatter yourself, prune-face. I'm only worried 'cause if anything happens to you I'm out of a job." he riposted, spitting out the paper and pressing the adhesive onto the small cut. "Don't get used to it."
"Too late."
When he sat on the bench beside her again, she thanked him heartily for coming. He shrugged, said it was nothing and that after that puff of cigarette smoke this morning he needed some fresh air anyway even if it was cold.
"Cigarette??" said the woman. "Who was smoking? Not your father, I hope. You said he doesn't smoke for your sake."
"No, he doesn't." was all The Boy said. He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
"What is it?" urged the baker. "Something's on your mind."
He just shook his head. Voicing thoughts is always scary. It makes them feel more real.
After a pause she turned her gaze back to the shrine, for once she wasn't prying. Instead she left the floor open for him to share willingly.
"It's just..." The Boy's anxiety seemed to spill out his tongue like it needed to escape. He wasn't quite aware of making the decision to talk at all. "Dad and I went shopping this morning and when we got back this guy he gambles with came to our apartment. He was trying to start a fight because Dad hasn't paid back some money he borrowed. They just... they were talking about how neither wanted to get the police involved in their fight because Goto-san has a bad record and... they brought up my dad's divorce with my mom and Goto-san made it sound like...like... I don't know." The teen shrugged trying to keep his voice causally even, "It just sounded oddly like he was trying to say there was some foul-play in like...the way they got separated or something?? I'm sorry I'm not making any since it's just been bothering me all morning. I wish my dad would talk to me about this stuff."
The baker nodded with a tight expression. "Well, no one who knew about the situation could deny there was foul-play involved. But I doubt anyone really knows the whole truth and I think your dad likes it that way. I know it's frustrating, but who knows. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise he doesn't let you know everything that went down."
He was used to the old lady talking like she knew everything about everyone in the neighborhood; yet everything about her mien was different, more solemn now.
"You know though, don't you??" he voiced the realization without filtering.
The woman averted her eyes and let out a deep sigh.
"You do know!" he cried. "What really happened?? Tell me!"
She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, dear, it's not my business to say. And it wasn't pretty, you don't need to know all tha–"
"I do!!" he leapt to his feet. "I need to know why she couldn't take me with her!"
"..."
He hadn't meant to say that. But what did it matter. He needed answers more than he did pride at this point.
"Please, Ma'am..." he begged. "How did Dad get custody of me when she was the one who filed for the divorce? How come she didn't take me with her?"
The bitter sorrow on the woman's face told him she knew the depths of the answers better than anyone.
"What, did she not love me as much?"
"No!" the old lady grimaced. "No, it wasn't that. Her plan was always to take both of you."
"Then why didn't she??" he demanded, his voice hardening more than he intended it to.
"...He was renowned in the police department." She finally relented. "Considering how young he was and how many years he'd been at it. He had a lot of friends and everyone knew better than to oppose him, even in the court."
Even before Goto-san said something this morning, somehow The Boy always suspected that could have been the case. But that didn't stop it from making him sick to his stomach at the thought of it.
"So how'd he do it?" the teen asked tartly.
"I don't know exactly..." she began carefully, "But what I do know is that before your mother issued him the divorce papers she was never on anti-depressants."
"So?"
"So...your father did what he thought he had to to keep things under control."
Silence reigned on the chilly tranquil scene for a beat.
"Are you trying to say," his voice shook ever so slightly, "That my dad put her on those anti-depressants? To get her addicted so he could control her?? You mean she didn't even need them?!"
The woman continued her sad gaze at the temple without a word. The Boy's mind raced and his limbs went wobbly so that he fell back to his seat next to her.
"You know I would do anything to help you, right?" the baker said almost inaudibly after giving him a moment to gather his thoughts. "If there was any way to get you away from him you know I would. Since I'm the only one left here who knows the truth."
His heart was trying to break through his chest. "...How much truth??"
She finally turned and met his eyes, her lips tightening into a sorrowful half-smile. "...Much more than you probably want me to, dear."
His eyelids flickered and he exhaled. Strange, he thought. He didn't expect relief to be the first thing he felt when the elephant in the room finally came out.
"How?" he couldn't keep himself from asking.
She reached for her purse beside her. "This picture... I've always keep it in my wallet but, since I'm sure your dad has gotten rid of all the family photos, I've been meaning to give it to you."
She withdrew a folded photograph and put it in his hands. Timidly he unfolded it to find a picture of the baker hugging a young woman with strawberry blonde hair standing outside the storefront of Heavenlee. The sight of her dragged a wave of memories from the graveyard of his heart. He hadn't seen a picture of that face in over a year.
"Th-This is my mom."
"I'm sorry for not mentioning it sooner. You have to understand old people like me when they get sentimental, some things in the past can be hard to recall."
The Boy blinked frustrated eye-water away. "You knew her??"
"Oh yes. She's the daughter I always wished I'd had."
Speechless, he'd accuse her of lying if not for the picture. His mother's smile was unmistakable, although wrapped in much smoother skin with less stress lines. Even her hair was less salted than he remembered.
"You know I was the reason for your parents getting together?" the woman laughed, reminiscent. "They worked for me when I first opened the shop, that's how they met. Hehe, it all started as a competition to see who'd be my leading apprentice."
The Boy said nothing still. He'd never heard Dad talk about how he met Mom. In fact he only had a couple memories of his parents ever having acted like they were in love. He wanted the baker to tell him the whole story from start to finish but his throat was closed. Thankfully the baker was always good at reading his mind.
"With your father in the police force," the old woman explained. "I was going to retire and hand the keys over to your mom as a wedding gift. But you know they were so young when he proposed. She was only seventeen so I was going to have to wait a couple years after the wedding before she could legally take over. She kept working the shop with me for the first year of their marriage. Then she got pregnant with your sister and... that was when your dad started becoming more reclusive. He made her quit work in the later months of the pregnancy, but I thought she'd come back once the baby came. Slowly but surely they started giving me more and more reasons why they couldn't leave the house and one day they left the shop for the last time and never came back." Here the woman's tone went very hesitant. "I saw your sister once when she was a newborn but... years went by and all I could get was a call from your mom every once in a while – they were never long, like she wasn't allowed to talk much. One day I went down to the station to see if I could visit your father and talk to him myself and was told that he'd quit so he could be home with his wife who was expecting their second child. After that I stopped getting calls. But I did get a sweet letter from her with a family picture of the four of you and a note saying she didn't want me to try to contact you guys anymore."
Out of the horde of questions, the easiest one for the child to grasp was, "So... when you saw me in your alley that day, you knew exactly who I was? That's the real reason you wanted me as your apprentice isn't it?"
"Not entirely." she replied softly. "I really did feel your spiritual presence as an answer to my prayer. I wasn't lying about having been praying for an apprentice. After I lost your parents it was years before I had the heart to look for another. When I saw you in the alley that day I just... Like I said, souls with the same scars tend to attract, you know?"
She finished that sentence much less confidently than was characteristic, and it disturbed The Boy. antagonism swelled when the dots finally started to connect.
"Wh...What? Are you trying to say you and me share the same scars? How??"
Her eyes turned from her wrinkled hands nervously fingering at her skirt and met his. Once again the child couldn't help catching a ghost of something so familiar in them.
"You know that healing cream is a real pain to make?" she said matter-of-factly. "Trust me, I wouldn't have labored for years developing a recipe for ointment that will make bruises vanish if I didn't need it as much as you do."
Her gaze never failed. No more explanation was necessary.
"No. Shut up." A bitter mixture of grief and wrath pulsed throughout him. "Don't say that... That's not funny."
The old woman shrugged. "I told you; we're peas in a pod..."
"Who was it???" the teen seethed, his eyes burning letting her know he was ready to kill the man.
"Don't worry, dear." She assured weakly. "Like I said, my husband was a sick man. He drank himself into the grave."
Stillness frosted the autumn scene long enough to allow the silence to ring his ears. When the livid shock of what he was hearing finally simmered down, he gripped his temples, photo still in hand and shielding his eyes so she wouldn't see his expression which he was sure was contorted and gross. He felt the urge to cry, but his brain was still working to process exactly which part he was most upset about. On his back came the gentle pat of the woman's skinny hand.
"I know this is a lot to take in." She said. "But I just want you to know this one thing: You see, your mom and I aren't supposed to talk much because your father knows we are probably the only people who will ever challenge him and he doesn't want us 'conspiring.' But she has managed to reach out to me once about a year ago. She told me she had been writing letters to you, that you had suddenly stopped writing, and next thing she knew your father issued her a stricter restraining order. She asked me a favor that day. Do you want to know what it was?"
The Boy nodded his face against his hands.
"She asked me to keep an eye on her son." said the lady, peace lighting her voice again. "She told me if I ever got the chance, without letting your dad suspect anything, to make sure you were taken care of until she was able to do it herself one day."
The Boy raised his eyes to hers.
"Yes, dear, she's still working to be able to take you home, and your sister is helping too."
The child's brows curled wretchedly as the answers he'd longed for began to fester as they set in. After everything Dad had done to make his life miserable, there was still a part of him that didn't want to believe the man could have ever reached such a low of cruelty with Mom.
"...I hate him." He said solidly. "I hate how he treated my sister. I hate how he lied about my mother. I hate that he's made me so different from everyone else. But it's just..."
He clutched the satchel his father had been crazy-proud to give him, biting his lip to keep it from quivering. "Ma'am am I... am I a bad person because I still want to make him proud?"
The old woman pecked the top of his messy hair. "No matter what he says or does, you're still his son and you always will be. That's not your fault."
A sob wanted to break loose at the relief that came with those understanding words, but he only nodded and inwardly thanked the baker.
Coughing himself back to a clear voice, he asked hopefully. "So do you still talk to my mom??"
The old lady hesitated before answering very gravely. She probably knew exactly what he was hoping.
"No. Honey, I'm sorry but we haven't been lucky enough to keep in touch with all the obstacles your father has given us. And although I wish more than anything to let her and you talk again, I'm afraid if your father ever found out –"
"I understand." The Boy said sadly but with resolve. "I shouldn't risk getting Mom in any more trouble than she's already in."
He stood bolt up, commanded his voice with determination. "Then we'll just have to keep waiting. If Mom can wait this long and work this hard to get me back then I can be patient too. Besides, if I'm going to be the leader of the family one day when we are all together – and that includes you – then I waste anymore time pitying myself, can I? If my dad or any man wants to hurt any of you ever again then you tell them they gotta deal with me first, okay?"
He extended his hand and helped the elder to her feet. "Come with us, Granny. When Mom and Big Sis get everything together we'll have the rest of our lives to make up for lost time. We can all be your apprentices. We can move Heavenlee to a better location where we'll get a lot more business. We can bring the cat and everything."
The keen old eyes probably saw right through his excitement and that deep down he was trying to find reasons to peel his heart away from his father.
"Me moving to Okinawa with you all?" she humored him, "I think that'd be pretty crazy."
"Exactly. Should be right up your alley."
He donned his satchel while the old lady slipped her hand under his elbow. Slowly he started leading her down the trail leading to the main road and towards home. She admitted she loved the sound of his plan and remarked how adorable he was when trying to be protective.
"Shut it, prune-face." He beamed.
To be continued...