Author's Note:
My original idea for this chapter I ended up scrapping as I just wasn't happy with it. It was going to end with Vince and Greg becoming enforcers for a local loan shark, but really, that was not much different from their time in Hogwarts. It needed to be something funny and vastly different to make enough of an impact that I wanted it to be here. Therefore, I give you the following chapter.
It goes without saying that there will be swearing. You have been warned.
-o0o-
The Goyle residence was, from a magical pureblood point of view, small and run down. It was on the outskirts of a small village that was easy enough to miss due to the high bushes next to the road. That, and the roundabout in the intersection had tall weeds growing in its center which blocked the exit to the village that the Goyle residence resided.
The village, once someone managed to find it, comprised of a few homes, a post office, a church, a burned-out home (that was the former priest's digs) next to the church that hadn't been fixed since it was torched as a lark by Greg Goyle and his childhood friend, Vincent Crabbe only six years earlier. Should someone have managed to drive past those buildings and continued on the road to nowhere, they would have encountered a 3-story semi-custom castle, or at least that was what the Goyle's said it was. Had a building inspector actually seen the, ah, castle, they would have been surprised that the 3-story establishment was comprised with a main floor constructed of logs, a second floor constructed with stone (and not well-placed stone at that), and a third story constructed of discarded umbrellas pilfered for years from around England.
Still, the Goyle's owned the home. After all, what bank would want to give them money to build that rat trap? The Goyle's were good neighbors. They paid their taxes, they were quiet, and respected their neighbors. Well… more like, they paid their taxes, and then immediately imperiod whoever was the tax representative and got their money back. They were also quiet since they put up silencing wards at their property line. And let's face it, they respected their neighbors but only considered the Crabbe's who lived next door their true neighbors. All the rest were just useless.
On September 1st, the Goyle's and the Crabbe's sat down to a large luncheon to celebrate another 10-months free of kids. The four parents were sitting at a picnic table that strangely enough looked like it had once been bolted to cement at a seaside resort town, while loading up their plates. They were in the backyard of the Goyle residence, and the paint on the table and bench were fading fast.
They were startled out of their complacency first by a Goblin war cry coming from the tree line only a scant 10 meters away, and then by an arrow that was shot into the roast on a platter in the middle of the table. On the shaft of the arrow was a document neither read as they immediately got up to run since they saw four centaurs galloping towards them, eating up the open space almost instantly. Riding on the backs of the centaurs were Goblins twirling ropes like those American cowboys (not that they knew of cowboys, nor cared at the moment). They all screamed (the men higher and longer than their wives for some reason) and ran in different directions.
"Yee-hah!"
"Ride 'em Centaur!"
"I got a runner!"
"They're all running! Rope 'em and brand 'em!"
Each Goblin/centaur team chased down the chattel, roping them around the ankles first. Once down, the Goblin jumped off the centaur and ran to the wayward chattel and properly roped its arms behind its back, tied with the feet. The term was called being hogtied, not that the Goyle's or Crabbe's knew or cared.
"Time!" yelled the Goblin who had finished tying up Mr. Goyle.
"Five point six seconds," came the calm reply of the centaur looking at the stopwatch given to him by his teammate earlier.
"Kneebasher! Your time?" the Goblin yelled.
Said Goblin was writing his time down on a paper, much like a golfer kept score, and yelled back, "Five point three seconds!"
Kneebasher came over to join Crotchkicker, a wicked grin on his face. "Let's hope the other teams are a little slower. I want to win the Retrieval Cup."
Crotchkicker grinned back. "Yeah, I want the cup too. But you know what? This retrieval was fun. Think the boss needs us to do more?"
"Never can say. Bane? Have the stars indicated anything around this?"
The centaur looked up from the stopwatch and replied, "A comet passed by last night. Ominous."
"Meaning?" Kneebasher prompted.
"Don't rule it out," Bane commented.
Hopeful grins in place, Crotchkicker put in a call to Gringotts to send a security team to seal the Goyle residence for the boss.
"How did you two do?" Crotchkicker indicated the bound Crabbe parents.
Cowtipper let out a wicked snort with his cruel grin. "Roped in six point one seconds."
Analprober winced at the time. "Five point one seconds for me."
"I think our 10.9 seconds beats your 11.2 seconds, right?" Kneebasher gloated.
"Yes," Analprober acknowledged while thinking of a way to vent that frustration. He looked at the unconscious wizards and witches. Walking up to the trussed witches and wizards, he reached into his satchel, rummaged around and pulled out… a stamper. It was a large-ish stamp. He opened a pad of red ink, shoved the stamper into the ink to get it good and wet, and then savagely stamped "Apprehended" on the foreheads of each chattel.
-o0o-
Greg and Vince were collected in Hogwarts, taken with the rest of the chattel, and interviewed by a muggle (they thought) named Jessica McCready. Once finished, they joined the rest of their friends in a large room where they ate food, drank something odd called Pepsi, and ate more food. They went to bed that night wondering if there would be Pepsi at breakfast.
The next day they were advised of their fate in a group meeting while wearing an ugly shirt. They and their friends were ushered into another room and each person in this group met with one of those not-muggle caseworkers one-on-one in a closed room. It was a surprise then that both Greg and Vince had been asked to come into a closed room together. There, they met Pierson.
"We are splitting up everyone in your group. However, we have been working on keeping family members together wherever they go. You two are a quandary for us. You are not brothers by blood, but you are brothers by circumstance," he stated simply.
"What does that mean?" Vince said, looking at Greg.
"Dunno," he answered Vince. Turning to Pierson, he said, "When's lunch?"
"An' can we get any sausages?" Vince smiled at Greg.
"Right," Pierson snapped his fingers in front of them to get their attention. "Mentally, you two are brothers. We do not want to separate you. We feel you would do better together than alone. Do you agree to this?"
"Uh… yes?" Greg said for the two of them.
"Good. Because it was hard enough to find anyone to take you and having to find a second family to put one of you with was going to be more than a little difficult." He filled out some papers and then looked back to the two boys. "You are being put into the foster care of the Rooter couple. They have experience raising children and live on a farm. You leave day after tomorrow. Any questions?"
Greg raised his hand.
"Yes, we have sausages on the food table for lunch today," Pierson answered the unasked question while pinching the bridge of his nose, not for the last time.
Greg smiled and lowered his hand.
-o0o-
The next day they had their magic bound. It didn't hurt either of them since their magical cores were small.
That night, "Vince?"
"Yeah?" he replied from his bed that night.
"What do you think living on a farm will be like?" Greg wondered.
"Probably not too hard. I mean, how hard can it be? You feed some animals in the morning, then you eat breakfast, then you tend plants like Herbology, and you eat lunch, and you do something in the afternoon and then you eat dinner. I'm sure they'll have chicken, and pork chops, and steaks…"
"An' sausages?"
"Yeah! And sausages. And fried potatoes, and cheese, and lots of pumpkin juice."
The two continued to forecast what their lives would be like on the farm they were going to. It was wonderful. It was great. And it was full of rich foods that they could eat as if they lived at the Weasley home. All in all, they were happy with their choice. It didn't sound too bad.
-o0o-
That morning, Jessica McCready met them after they had eaten breakfast. "You boys ready?"
"Yes, ma'am," Vince replied.
"Any questions before we portkey out?"
"Will they have sausages?" Greg wondered.
"I have no idea," she responded automatically.
"How about some of that Pepsi? That was really good."
"I have no idea. Okay, enough questions. Let's get going."
-o0o-
"Where are we?" Vince said as he helped Greg up off the ground where he had landed from the portkey trip.
"Derbyshire," Jessica replied, indicating a house a few hundred meters up the dirt and gravel path. "We're still in the UK if that is what you are wondering."
It wasn't what they were wondering, but they didn't let her know that.
She walked them towards the house. It was isolated. They boys could not see any neighboring homes. Just… a lot of plants. As they came nearer to the home they made out more details. It was a two-story house with a large front porch. There were rocking chairs on the porch and a large barn just a dozen meters away. The barn was twice the length of the house and also two-stories.
"Good morning, Mrs. McCready," said a male voice coming down the front porch steps. A woman made her way towards the two boys and the caseworker as well.
"Good morning, Mr. Rooter," Jessica replied with a warm smile. "And please, call me Jessica."
"And you please call me Dawn," Mrs. Rooter replied next to the other man.
"And call me David," he shook her hand.
"Thank you for taking these boys in," she indicated her companions. "This is Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Boy, this is David and Dawn Rooter."
"Good morning, kids," David said jovially. "Welcome to our farm. Not much in the way of neighbors I have to admit. They are around, but we mostly keep to ourselves. We have 10 hectares here."
"Really?" Vince's eyes went wide, not really understanding what a hectare was, nor would they really get an understanding of what it was like when Dawn compared one hectare to the size of an average pro sports field. "What do you farm here? Cattle? Sheep? Thestrals?"
The Rooter couple chuckled. "Oh, no animals here I'm afraid. We're a vegan farm."
"So you farm vegans? That's interesting," Greg skimmed the surface of his understanding. He'd figure it out later, like he always did. "So do you have chickens here? I've always heard it's good to eat fresh chickens."
"And how often do you have pork chops for dinner?" Vince was hungry already.
"I don't think you boys understand what a vegan is," Dawn said matter-of-factly to the two confused boys. "Veganism is a strict type of vegetarianism that excludes meat and all animal products. We vegans do not eat meat, fish, eggs, dairy products, or any foods containing them. Our diet relies on plant-based foods including fruits, vegetables, grains, beans, nuts, and seeds."
David continued, "Our farm here grows eggplants, kale, corn, tomatoes, potatoes, all sorts of lentils, zucchini, many different squashes, and so on."
"You boys," Dawn said, "will be homeschooled here. You will be getting up at 5am, beginning your chores as you learn to live off the land, eating a healthy and nutritious plant-based diet. You two don't have any peanut allergies, do you?"
"What?" Greg managed to process, his horror growing.
"Peanuts. Any kind of nut, actually. No? You don't know? That's okay, we can find out. We keep an epi-pen on hand just in case."
"What?" Vince managed to process, his horror growing like Greg's.
"Now I know you boys are used to eating anything that was put in front of you. That is normal in today's society," David said. "But here, you are going to get back to nature. You will find you like eating vegan. Your bodies will lose all that fat and you will feel much better for it."
"So you don't eat chicken here?" Vince said with tears in his eyes.
"Or pork chops?" Greg's voice began to crack.
"Or steak?"
"Heavens no," Dawn smiled at the two boys. "That is all bad for you."
"Pepsi?" Vince hoped.
"No. While not animal-based, that is a load of chemicals which is also bad for your body. We want to live a long, long time."
"And," Greg said in a feat of mental vaulting, "being a vegan will mean you will live longer?"
"Absolutely," David replied. "Recent studies indicate that by eating a vegan lifestyle you will live at least one week longer than if you were to eat all those juicy, greasy hamburgers, fatty steaks slathered in cream sauces, greasy sausages, fried onions, fried chickens, fried ice cream, fried anything really. No, it is better to start eating healthy at a young age.
"Now, come on, boys. We'll show you were your room will be, and then explain your chores and then start you on your homeschooling. It's only a little after 9am now, so we have four hours before lunch."
"And wait until you see what we will be having for lunch," Dawn smiled reassuringly. "It's my own interpretation of zucchini with chickpea-mushroom stuffing. You'll love it."
"And tonight, you boys are going to help me make a quinoa and black bean salad," David clapped his hands on their shoulders as he directed them towards the house.
"Good luck, boys," Jessica said, to the two boys as they shuffled behind David towards the house. She didn't see their tears of despair at not having sausages in the near future, or any future on the horizon.
-o0o-
"Tonight?" Vince said to his slimmer best friend. "We've been here a week already."
"Tonight," Greg answered with certainty. "I can't stand any more of these eggplant breakfasts instead of real eggs. I need sausages!"
"I'm with you, brother. I cannot stand another night of Agedashi-esque Tofu. I need pork chops!"
Near midnight, the two boys quietly made their way down the stairs and let themselves outside. It was a cool night, but not cold. Well away from civilization, there also wasn't much light pollution to obscure the evening sky. However, the sky was overcast, promising rain later. Unable to navigate by stars or the moon, they made their best guess as to which way to go and set out at a brisk pace, visions of dancing meat patties dancing in their heads.
They made about 10 meters before they ran into an obstacle. Or more like, they took one step past 10 meters and their foot did not contact the ground. Instead it hit open air and they tumbled down into a hole. And not just any hole, they recalled. It was a pit that Mr. Rooter had dug earlier that day for the new outhouse.
"Vince? My ankle hurts."
"Yeah. Mine too. Want to crawl out?"
"Yeah."
They started crawling, but the muck, mud, and soft dirt was unable to be breached. Or it could have been breached had they thought to use their size and strength to help one another, but they didn't and so spent the rest of the night in that crappy little hole, in pain, and when the rain fell later, they were wet as well.
They were found in the morning by Mr. Rooter who didn't seem all that surprised.
-o0o-
It was mid-October. Near midnight. For dinner that night, the boys and the Rooter couple had enjoyed couscous with olives and sun-dried tomatoes. Or better to say, the Rooters enjoyed it while the boys ate it on autopilot.
This time the sky was not overcast and they could see where the new outhouse was. They set out in the same direction as before, avoided the outhouse trap, and made their way up the path only to find it abruptly ended at a gate with a sign on it stating, "Wrong way". Not sure what to make of that, they tried another path near them and soon found another sign stating, "One Way" in the shape of an arrow. They followed it. They found a few more signs and eventually ended up back at the house, hungry (as usual) and now thirsty for some water. Mr. Rooter was waiting for them and chuckled good naturally while putting them back to bed.
-o0o-
Near Christmas, the Rooters were shocked when Gregory and Vincent hadn't known what that was, instead calling it the winter solstice celebration, which in turn required a full night's explanation of what Christmas was and why it was so important. Clearly, they felt, their education had suffered while at that boarding school. Still, the boys helped put up a tree, decorate it, and when finished, they went into town for supplies with David who decided to drive the '69, gas-guzzler that it was.
The boys sat in the front with David. Months earlier that hadn't been possible with as big as each boy was then, each being about 100 kilograms. Now, they were down to about 65 kilograms each, having shed approximately 70-75 pounds. David knew that would be good for their hearts, and their joints.
In town, they picked up supplies that he and Dawn could not grow on the farm. As much fun as living there was, they still needed civilization and some of the comforts it gave. Dawn certainly loved her Cajun spices, he thought fondly. There were many more things on the list he brought with him. Soap, toilet paper, nuts, and so on. He paid for his order, had the boys help him load it securely, and then went back inside for a quick moment. He returned within a minute, started the truck and pulled out.
"Boys," he started. "I want you both to know I've been impressed with you for the last couple months. It hasn't gone unnoticed. And since it's the Christmas season, I wanted to give you these." He handed them something small.
They looked at their hands and saw he had given them each two lemon drops.
"Eat up, boys. Can't let Mrs. Rooter see you having that, now can we?"
They put their lemon drops in their mouths and started sucking in all the sweet, glorious sugar like ravenous beasts, minus the sounds of a carnivorous predator ripping a smaller animal to pieces.
"Now don't tell Mrs. Rooter about this, right?"
"Yes sir!" they chorused.
That night, near midnight, Greg woke to something. He wasn't sure at first. He sat up on his bed and sniffed. There. It was nearby. He got up, opened the bedroom door and sniffed some more. It was maddeningly nearby!
Vince woke too. He was about to ask Greg what he was going when he, too, smelled it. Rising, he joined Greg descending the stairs, still sniffing. They went outside and sniffed some more. Closer and closer they made their way to the pickup. Opening the cab door they both caught the scent.
Sugar.
They furiously investigated, looking behind the seat, lifting the seat, looking under the seat. A few minutes later they found it. There was an extra lemon drop neither had gotten. It was obvious what they had to do.
"Mine!" they both shouted at the same time, both holding onto that sweet candy.
Their eyes narrowed at one another.
"Let go!"
"You let go!"
This type of conversation continued for another few minutes before Greg threw the first punch. For years, they had been Malfoy's hired muscle. They may not have done that well in class, but they knew being big wasn't going to be enough considering the number of enemies Draco acquired every time he opened his mouth. From their first year forward, they had taken some sort of physical training. Usually interrogation techniques such as breaking fingers, popping joints, gouging eyes out, that kind of thing. So it was no surprise that when Greg threw that first punch, he meant it to do some serious damage to his best buddy, Vince.
Vince, of course, saw the blow coming, countered it and began throwing punches of his own. Greg began to counter those and return blow for blow. It was a Christmas miracle that neither laid a deadly blow on the other. They did, however, manage to get in a couple good blows on each other. Greg got a cut in over Vince's left eyebrow which bled more than it hurt. Vince clubbed Greg's ear so that he'd be hearing ringing for hours to come. And both got in blows on the jaw.
The blows to the jaw was the last blow for each of them, ironically. They both stopped immediately, not looking at their swollen hand they used to punch the other one, but because their jaw instantly hurt.
"Owwwww," they complained to one another, holding their mouths.
Worse, their fighting had woken up Mr. and Mrs. Rooter who were standing on the porch with hands on their hips and stern expressions mirroring the rest of their body language.
Knowing something of first aid, Mrs. Rooter brought the boys into the kitchen, sat them down and looked at their injuries. It didn't take her long to discover that both boys had broken their jaws.
-o0o-
The next morning the two boys were driven back to town to the local dentist where he informed Dawn and David Rooter that each one had indeed broken their jaws, and that they needed said jaws wired shut for the next two months. It's not going to be fun for the two boys he informed them. The Rooter couple said to go ahead and do it.
Jessica McCready showed up well after the dentist began his work. "David? Dawn?" she started. "I want to tell you I am so sorry to hear what happened. I had no idea these two scamps would do something like that. I want you to know that additional funding has been put into your account to cover this mess. You will have more than enough to cover this."
David waved the apology off. "Not to worry, Jessica. We aren't unaware of what it is like to go through meat withdrawals. We actually figured them fighting about it would eventually happen."
"Those boys taking it to this level was a little more than we anticipated, though," Dawn continued. "But it's all good. Now they will have to eat what is prepared with blenders. All organic. All vegan. Our own sons were a little rebellious as well, so we know what having spirited youngsters is like. We'll get them straightened up. And when they can eat normally again, I don't think they will be grumbling about it then."
The boys, overhearing the entire conversation, just cried some more. The Rooters were trying to starve them is what they were doing.
-o0o-
Back home, Dawn brought Vince and Greg to the family room. "Kids, David and I have been talking. You two are still adjusting to your new vegan lifestyle and we realize it will take a little more adjustment on your part. Still, we want to make the period while you are on the mend a little more pleasant than you have been experiencing. While you will be having meal smoothies for the next few months, which will contain additional nutrients to help you heal, we have found a specialist to help make your shakes and smoothies much more interesting."
Footsteps behind the boys made them turn around. They immediately saw someone that looked like May-Eye Moody, although without a peg-leg. Or a mad-eye.
"Professor Moody?" Vince exclaimed.
"Who? Wait. You've met my cousin? Of course you have. You look like a couple of wankers. I'm Bad Pie Roody. And I'm going to be your chef for the next few months. And I'm going to teach you to cook, you ugly sacks of shit!"
"Roody," Dawn chastised.
"Ah! Right, calm the insults down. Got it. I'm working on it. Meanwhile, I'm going to teach these two the most important thing to know about what I do."
"Constant Vigilance!" Greg kind of said through his wired jaw.
"Hah! Now I know for sure you two have met my cousin. No, you little wankers. Moody thought he was so cool to create that catchphrase to compete with mine."
"What is yours, sir?" Vince mumbled.
"Easy enough. Constant Flatulence! Hah, ha-ha!"
"I don't get it," Greg said to Vince.
"You will, boy. You will. You will learn why Mad-Eye had to have constant vigilance around me. Hah, ha-ha!"
-o0o-
"Boys," Roody said that evening when he blended and otherwise crushed into a soupy mess their first meal. "I think you are going to like this shake. It's full of protein and tastes like roast beef. It's a special recipe of mine."
"Wow," Vince exclaimed through clenched teeth. "This is great!"
"Mmmm-hmmmm," Greg agreed, sucking on the straw as much as he could.
Their tummies rumbled moments after they finished sucking and the tooting began as a low crescendo and built up decibel after decibel until they couldn't hear anything but toot after toot.
"Constant Flatulence! Hah, ha-ha!" Roody chortled as David Rooter entered the dining room, took a whiff and indicated the two boys were to leave the house for the time being.
Hours later they were let back in. They immediately changed their clothes which in turn were put in vats of Clorox to get the smell out. Greg was only too happy to do this as the constant tooting had left a smell that was a cross between ammonia and sulpher.
"Vince?"
"Yeah?"
"That really was a good smoothie."
"Yeah. I wonder if we can get it again in the morning."
-o0o-
The next morning, Roody provided them, David and Dawn with a fancy breakfast. Unfortunately, while David and Dawn's breakfast was nicely laid out and looked as well as smelled so appetizing, Vince and Greg could not eat that. They got a blended version of that breakfast.
There was no tooting.
This pattern repeated itself meal after meal for days. The boys let their guard down. Lunch on the fourth day the boys sucked down their shake. The tooting began almost immediately.
"Constant Flatulence! Hah, ha-ha!"
They left the house immediately and returned well after dinner, clothes went into a Clorox bath, and they scrubbed themselves down to get rid of the residual scent.
"Greg?"
"Yeah?"
"We smelled worse this time."
"Yeah. It was ten times worse."
"If this keeps up, we're going to have to sleep in the outhouse to mask our fart stink."
"Yeah."
-o0o-
Roody repeated his flatulence attacks on the boys several more times. They did learn to be wary of anything he gave them unless they watched what he did like a hawk. Their tooting subsided over the weeks until they went the last few weeks of their wired-mouth-time without so much as one smelly incident.
Roody stayed on making the family meals and teaching the boys how to make vegan meals they would enjoy.
One Saturday in mid-April, they again went with Mr. Rooter for more supplies. He was on a triple-T supply run. That consisted of tea, toilet paper, and tabasco sauce. They again helped David load the truck and again he went into the store for something else. He returned with two small bags that he gave to the boys with a wink. Looking in the bags, they saw a handful of chocolate covered raisins.
Remembering what happened last time they had candy, they waited to eat them, thanking Mr. Rooter for the candy but instead stuffing them in their pockets. They would skip eating them. They didn't need it. After all, they were vegans now.
That mental persuasion didn't last for them unfortunately. Shortly after dinner, they retreated to their room and began eating the precious chocolate covered raisins. Moments after they swallowed the delicious treats, they began breaking wind like there was no tomorrow. It soon became a wind storm in their room. The smell became too much even for them and they opened their window. Still, that wasn't enough and Mr. Rooter showed up at their door saying they needed to go outside until it ended.
Vince and Greg left the house and went to the barn.
"This is rank," Greg said to Vince.
"Yeah. It's worse than before."
"Yeah. Want to hang out by the outhouse?"
"Constant Flatulence! Hah, ha-ha!"
-o0o-
Roody opened the barn door at first light. "Hah, ha-ha! It is rank in here, you wankers!" he yelled to the two boys waking up near the bags of manure they slept by which partially masked each other's smells. "Enjoy last night's sleep?"
"It was awful," Greg complained. "Vince smelled terrible."
"And Greg couldn't stop tooting."
"So, do you little cretins understand the significance is with what happened to you yesterday?"
Vince and Greg looked at each other and gave it some serious thought. "It was the raisins, right?" Vince finally said.
"So, it appears there is a brain between the two of you. Yes, it was related to the raisins. But not the raisins themselves. Any other guesses?"
"Uh, it was the chocolate," Greg guessed.
"Very good! It was the bloody chocolate. Any guesses as to why?" They had used up that day's allotment of thinking. "You two have been eating my special foods for months. It's affected your stomach for one thing. And your body chemistry. It is anti-sugar based. What that means is if you eat something you shouldn't, then it's phrt, phrt, PHRTY! And that's all she wrote! Hah, ha-ha!"
"How long will that last?" Greg wanted to know.
"Last? You mean, like when will it end? It won't end. You will always have it," Roody chuckled.
"What? Why?" Vince was shocked. He would never be able to eat ginger biscuits again?!
Roody got into their faces. "Need to keep that weight off both of you, ya little stinkers! Constant Flatulence! Hah, ha-ha!" He left them to think over what their lives… er… diet would be like going forward.
"Now I understand why Professor Moody was in a foul mood all the time," Vince said to Greg, who nodded in agreement.
-o0o-
Author's comment:
Yes, Bad Pie Roody is a character from Rorschach's Blot story: Let's Do the Time Warp Again. If you haven't read his story, then I suggest you give it a shot. It is quite enjoyable. And yes, I couldn't help myself from swiping that character and playing with it. It just "sort of" popped in my head.
I have 8 more chapters from this point. It may go up, but won't go down. Five of those chapters are complete and being cleaned up. The other 3 are well underway.
Thank you all for reading and leaving comments!