"Hey, Kloppman." Dutchy called. The old man looked over at the blond. Dutchy thrust a package under Kloppman's nose. "Here." he said, and ran off the minute Kloppman took aforementioned package. He looked at the small brown lump in his hand, and then at the stairs Dutchy had run up. The package. The stairs. The package. Across the top, someone had written 'To Kloppy' in charcoal. Kloppman shrugged and tore the paper off. An itty bitty little pair of scissors lay in his hand. Nose hair clippers. A small piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Kloppman stooped to pick it up. The same person who had written on the wrapping paper wrote on the note:

To Kloppy.

HAPPY "MOTHERS" DAY!

Love, The boys.

PS: Use the clippers. Please.

Kloppman chuckled and pocketed both the clippers and the note. As he walked towards his office, he yelled up the stairs; "Thanks boys!" His sally was greeted with gales of laughter from the assembled orphans. He shook his head fondly at his young lodgers. Great bunch of Kids, those, great bunch.