DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything from Tiny Toon Adventures, including characters, locations, references, or the Acme Warner Bros. logo. All rights go to Warner Bros. and Steven Spielberg's Amblin Entertainment.

Chapter 14

Yesterday and Today

~Dec. 6th and Dec. 7th~

Hamton laid sprawled on his hands and knees at the foot of his couch, wheezing painfully from the cold he had just left. But despite the pain, so heavy in his chest and sides, he still had the strength to smile. After so many hours away, it was good to be back in his own house — warm, familiar, comfortable, and clean enough for his own liking.

Hamton took a deep inhale through his nose and winced at the strong smell of lemons coming from the filthy overalls under his coat. He stood up, wincing from his sore legs, and glanced tiredly up at the living room's wall clock. His eyes went wide.

It was 3:30.

In that moment, the great weight on his lungs disappeared as Hamton's mind shot back to that morning, to when he and Babs had talked on the phone. . . .

It was enough for Hamton to push aside his tiredness and his desire to lay down and sleep (as he happily would have done on this very carpet). Knowing he had precious little time, he rushed to the bathroom. The shower's hot water was bliss against his skin, and the soft scent of soap replaced that of the harsh lemon disinfectant. After drying himself off, Hamton pulled on a fresh pair of overalls. He felt renewed, his energy returning faster than it ever could have through relaxing.

Looking over at his bed, the alarm clock read 3:40. He still had enough time for one last thing.

Hamton rushed back to the living room, picked his coat up off the floor, pulled it back on and grabbed the money he had earned from out of its pocket. In his room, he subtracted the $70 from the list on his desk.

$1200

-$70

(cleaned 7 houses, $10 ea.)

$1130

Placing his pencil down, Hamton checked himself over. He looked all right, he thought, at least well enough for his friends. It wasn't like he was going out on a date (despite the fact that Fifi would be present. . .)

Hamton paused at this thought and needlessly combed his hand over his bald head. He then grabbed a little spending money out from his desk drawer and deposited the day's profit into his dresser. Locking the front door, he headed straight towards the city, trying to ignore how sore his legs felt.

Staggering, out of breath from running through his neighborhood and back into the city, Hamton reached the Acme Mall just as the clock tower struck 4:00. His lungs felt drained and his face was cold, and though his ears were throbbing slightly under his hat, he still managed to hear his friends calling his name from the Mall's entrance.

"Hey, Hamton! Glad you made it," Buster said with satisfaction. "How was your cleaning?"

"I'll . . . tell you all . . . about it . . . inside. . . ." Hamton said through ragged breath, clutching the stitch in his side with his cold, bare hands.

The six of them walked in. The Mall was beautifully warm with many shoppers already starting on some early Christmas shopping.

"You cleaned Elmyra's house?" Plucky asked incredulously a few minutes later after Hamton explained his day. "Hamton, I think all that lemon disinfectant must've messed up your brain. Seriously, what were you thinking?"

"I didn't know it was Elmyra, okay?" Hamton said wearily, wishing he could forget the whole thing. "When she called, she sounded like an old lady. I only realized whose house it was after I saw the empty cage buried under the snow by her door, and by then she grabbed me. After that . . . well, let's just say I have Elmyra's poor cooking to thank for my escape."

"I believe you there, Hamton," said Buster. "I did most of the baking yesterday in Exploding Cakes. Elmyra can't tell the difference between cocoa powder and itching powder."

"Still," said Plucky, sniffing the air as the six of them passed a group of shoppers, "you must've used a lot of disinfectant, Hamton. Your coat is ripe with lemons."

Hamton took a small sniff of his winter coat, then groaned. Plucky was quite right; though faint, the pungent lemon scent was still noticeable to those close by. Hamton hadn't smelt it when he was outside due to the fact that he had been in a hurry.

"It must've been from my overalls," Hamton said. "They were soaked and the cleaner must've seeped into the coat's fabric."

"Ah, don't worry," said Shirley with a wave of her hand, "it's not a bad smell. Lemons are, like, great for the sinuses, plus they make for a refreshing meditation — when they're not overwhelming, that is."

"And I would be. . .?" asked Hamton, an eyebrow raised.

". . .Like, totally overwhelming. Sorry."

Hamton deadpanned.

"I know a place zat can help, Hamton," Fifi said. "Oh! Here we are."

They all came to a halt. Fifi had led them to a store that Hamton and the others never entered before. Unlike most of the other stores, this one had two sets of doors: one for the outside, in which you entered a small entryway, and another that opened into the actual shop. The overhead sign read:

Dr. Olfactor's Aroma Factory

"Zis store houses just about every scent you can think of," Fifi told them proudly. "Ze perfume is not bad, but it is ze candles that really, how you say, 'lift you off your feet.'"

Babs looked curiously up at the store's sign. "Hmm . . . I wonder why we've never noticed this shop before..."

"Must've been retconned at the last moment," Buster implied. "Or perhaps it was just never been mentioned before on Tiny Toons."

Opening the outer doors, Hamton could already detect a dozen different smells. Stepping inside through the second doors, however, he and his friends (minus Fifi) felt their heads spin as a tidal wave of scents flooded their nostrils.

"Oh, sorry," said Fifi, grinning sheepishly. "I forgot to mention, ze first time in zis shop can be a tad overwhelming."

"I'll say!" Plucky exclaimed, whose eyes rolled into their sockets, right before he fell to the floor.

"Oh, don't be a drama queen, Plucky," Babs said with her arms crossed. "It's not that bad."

And indeed, Babs had a point after the first few seconds. The shop, in Hamton's opinion, became quite comfortable to the senses once a person looked around (and learned to breath mostly through their mouth).

The shelves were stocked with assorted air fresheners, both for cars and rooms. Colorful herbal scented candles lined the walkways with every aroma imaginable, including blueberry pie, Queen's gown, and even swamp grass. Various perfumes were also available, though none of them, Hamton saw, included Du Coeur. And lastly, over at the store's far end — the only spot that was bare of products — there was a space of sorts: a ventilated glass box where one could sample the different air fresheners without the other smells interfering.

"Zis way, Hamton," said Fifi. She took him by the hand and lead him over to the testing area.

Hamton's cheeks went red; the soft fingers holding his hand felt like Heaven.

Fifi must've visited this shop many times before, Hamton thought. She ran her soft, purple-furred finger down the line of free-sample air fresheners without needing to read them and, within a few seconds, had picked out an orange and yellow spray can from amongst the hundreds. Then, with just a few sprays, Hamton's coat went from smelling like lemon juice to fresh autumn leaves (with, perhaps, a pinch of pumpkin spice). Of the two, this scent was far more pleasant.

"Thanks, Fifi," said Hamton, his cheeks still burning.

"My pleasure, Hamton," Fifi replied. "A good scent can go a long way, just as a bad scent can, how you say, 'make you go south'. Being a skunk, I speak from experience."

"Great," said Plucky with impatience. "And now that Hamton smells like a Thanksgiving wreath, can we please go somewhere else? I think my bill's stopped working."

"Hang on a sec, Plucky," said Shirley. "I want to buy some incense sticks." She proceeded to the cashier, who had a clothes pin placed over his nose.

Shirley took a whiff of her purchase and beamed. "Spirit Forest. This should make my evening meditation, like, super interesting."

After leaving the Aroma Factory, Hamton and his friends spent the majority of their time browsing through the Mall's many different shops. Occasionally a shopper would stop and sniff the air before muttering something about autumn leaves, to which Hamton and Fifi both shared a private smile.

To prevent any complaints from Plucky, the six friends stopped first at Mind Controller, where they all took turns playing a new high-tech video game called "Dance Dance Revelation". At least, that's what they think it was called; the price tag was placed over the last word. It proved to be pretty fun, stepping in beat to the music as rhythm arrows fell across the screen. Buster and Babs proved to be especially good, hardly missing a single note. Plucky and Shirley did okay, but occasionally fell out of sync. And Hamton and Fifi did fine, though Fifi, having not played a lot of video games, missed quite a few notes, and Hamton, not being a good dancer, found himself tripping over his feet every time the tempo sped up.

The next stop was in favor of the girls: a small but popular clothing outlet called Tracy's, where Babs, Shirley, and Fifi had fun checking out this year's pick in holiday dresses. Plucky twiddled away the time sitting by the door, his hand pressed to his bored face as his eyes wandered over everything for no more than five seconds. Buster, though not overly interested, complimented Babs on the dresses she showed to him, and spoke out suggestions occasionally. And Hamton was left to watch Fifi glance around at the many styles, imagining how she would look in them and finding that they all suited her marvelously. Though, of course, he lacked the courage to say this to her out loud.

By the time they left, — "Finally!" Plucky had said a little too loudly, much to Shirley's annoyance — the clocks read 6:00 and they all headed down to the food court for dinner.

Hamton paid for his meal with part of the fifteen dollars he still had left over from his parents' grocery check, so it didn't dip into the money he was saving up. This, combined with the deliciousness of cheesy pretzel bites, made the meal all the more enjoyable. And the impressions Babs did between bites also brought grins to the whole group, and even to the Mall-goers close enough to listen.

"Hey, everyone! I'm Montana Max!" Babs exclaimed in a flawless impersonation of Monty's loud, obnoxious voice. "I'm a buck-toothed, penny-pinching rich boy whose favorite hobby is making underwear out of my own cash!" There was a collective amount of laughter. "I have so much money, I could end world hunger in an hour. I would, that is, except the idea makes me laugh so hard, I go into a cash coma every time!"

By the end of the meal, Hamton was in such a good mood that he joined his friends onstage in the Mall's Karaoke Lounge where, together, the six of them sang "California Dreamin" by the Mamas and the Papas, in which they all received a cheerful applause.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: See bottom of chapter for work cited.

Hamton was having such a good time that, even as the evening reached 8:00, he still wasn't the slightest bit tired from his long day of cleaning. The madness of it all now felt like a funny memory in the time he spent with his best friends.

These delightful hours at the Mall even made Hamton forget why he had gone to the trouble of doing so much cleaning. That was, until the last stop before he and his friends went home. . . .

The Mall had half an hour left before all the stores closed at 9:00 and it was Fifi who suggested they have Shears be the last place to browse for the evening. A small twinge flickered in Hamton's stomach at this suggestion, and the events of his busy day slowly came into focus once more.

When they arrived outside the large glass doors, the six friends found the department store in a reasonably busy state. Hamton and the others passed a group of women adoring expensive jewelry, a group men were bickering while trying to find the best clip-on tie, and a child was whining for an expensive, albeit breakable toy. They moved on passed all the bustle and stopped at the store's center where the perfumes were displayed.

Fifi stepped forward and approached the glass case, behind which a beautiful, heart-shaped bottle stood for all to see.

"It is ze most popular brand in France right now," Fifi said eagerly. "I heard zey sold out every bottle in under a week, and Shamel is only bringing in a couple more for ze holidays."

She stepped back, glancing at the Du Coeur as though it were something both impressive as well as startling. "It looks like Shears is starting to sell out, too."

Stepping to get a closer look, Hamton saw that Fifi was correct. The case preserved for the Du Coeur was half empty since the last time he and his friends came here.

"I heard," said Fifi, "zat someone in Acme Acres actually managed to convince ze store to reserve a bottle, and zat's supposed to be impossible, as Du Coeur is in such high demand."

Fifi turned back to admire the bottle, and Hamton, directly behind her, glanced quickly over at Shirley, who returned his look with equal secrecy.

"Do you know what the perfume smells like, Fifi?" asked Babs. "I don't see a test card around anywhere."

"What it smells like?" Fifi let out a small laugh. "Oh, no, no, Babs. Test cards are not allowed for Du Coeur. Zis perfume is so exclusive, Shamel actually convinced ze government to sign a law forbidding people to describe its scent."

"You're kidding," said Buster in disbelief. "How can they possibly enforce a law like that?"

"I do not know," said Fifi curiously. "Personally, I think zey are overreacting. Otherwise, zhough, nobody but zhose who own ze perfume know ze scent."

"And all it takes to find out is every dollar, cent, and drop of sweat you have," said Plucky bluntly. "Honestly! I don't see how anyone can possibly afford it, even when it's on sale."

"Oh, indeed," said Fifi with a 'Le sigh'. "I, for one, find ze price outrageous. But . . . what it would be to have just one whiff of ze fragrance. . . ."

What it would be like, Hamton had no idea. The only scents around him were autumn leaves from his coat, leather from nearby shoes and purses, and a variety of other perfumes, and yet somehow, Hamton didn't think any of them would equate to the mysterious aroma surely resting beneath the heart-shaped bottle's golden cap.

"You must really like the perfume, Fifi. . ." Hamton said off-handedly.

Not taking her eyes off the perfume, Fifi responded, "Oh, it is fascinating, 'tis true. But it is ze story behind its creation zat truly makes it so special."

"The story?"

Taking a deep, passionate breath, Fifi began, "It was first thought up a few years ago in Europe by a perfumer who worked alongside another. Zey started just as friends and business partners, and zey both shared a deep passion for fragrance. Zey slaved together, day and night for years, pushing zheir skills and senses to ze limits, all to create one perfect aroma. Zey put all zheir hearts into zis one project, and in doing so," Fifi beamed, "zey found zheir hearts in each other. Zey created something more meaningful more zan any perfume. And when ze first bottle was finally finished, ze man used it to propose to ze woman. He hid ze wedding ring inside ze box."

Fifi let out a soft, "Le sigh. To think, ze creation of one little bottle was all it took for love to emerge. Zat is how ze perfume got its name and its shape. Ze idea and its creation came from 'ze heart'."

Fifi's eyes turned back to the perfume, eyeing it lovingly. Hamton's eyes, meanwhile, settled on Fifi. The sight of those bright amethyst eyes, even in the display case's reflective glass, was more beautiful than any of the jewelry for sale here, and they stuck with Hamton long after he and the others departed for home.

It was almost like those eyes had been whispering to him, prompting him in his mission. "You are not going to let me down, are you? You want to be ze boyfriend I deserve, non?"

Hamton let out a deep, slow exhale, his head bowed.

"Why can't these things ever be simple?"

(December 7th)

Dropping his spoon into his cereal bowl with a clink, Hamton gave out a deep sigh. He was no longer hungry, but his attitude didn't improve with having a full stomach.

No matter how much Hamton tried, the only event his mind wanted to recall from yesterday was Fifi's look of longing and the passionate story of how the perfume came to be. She had spoken with such tenderness it was practically on grounds to be a serenade.

Hamton pressed his hands to his face. He was staring down at the kitchen table where the morning sunlight glimmered off a black and purple flier, advertising a picture of the purple, heart shaped Du Coeur perfume.

He picked up the flier and stared at it more intently, remembering Fifi's words about the famous perfume.

"...ze most popular brand in France right now...

"...what it would be to have just one wiff of ze fragrance..."

"...ze creation of one little bottle was all it took for love to emerge..."

Hamton's insides felt constricted. A tender warmth and a dull chill were rolling around in his stomach, then jerking up into his heart, and finally crashing all together inside his brain, only to drop back down and start all over again.

He slapped the flier back onto the table. Resting one hand on his face, he tapped his finger on the bottle's picture where the golden cap was set. What the perfume smelt like — though he was curious — wasn't the question troubling Hamton.

No. The thing that bothered him was how on earth he was going to pay for it in time.

Just a few days ago, when he first made the decision to raise money for the perfume, Hamton had felt confident and hopeful. He had believed, honestly and truly, that he would, somehow, manage this insane mission. It really hadn't been a matter of "how?", but simply the idea of getting up and doing it. Just yesterday morning he happily walked out the door and cleaned seven houses, believing that, with each dollar earned, he was that much closer to making Fifi happy. He was too caught up in daydreams of her to give a moment's thought to something as menial as time, or its habit of quickly sneaking up on you, especially while in a good mood.

Now, however, as the first week of December came to an end, Hamton felt a different feeling altogether: stress.

Pushing himself up from the kitchen table, Hamton grabbed the Du Coeur flier and strutted back to his bedroom. He sat down again at his desk and glanced at the paper where he had been subtracting his savings from the scratched out $1500 at the top.

The bottom number, which was his present goal, gave him no hope whatsoever:

$1500
-$155
$1345
-$60
$1285
-$35
$1250
-$50
$1200
-$70
$1130

Grabbing the lunchbox from the bottom drawer in his dresser, Hamton pulled out all the money he managed to earn and counted it to make sure he did his math right.

In the course of only five days, Hamton had, so far, collected $370 — little more than one quarter of $1500.

Great, Hamton sighed with a shake of his head. One quarter down, three more to go.

With a feeling of dread, Hamton reached for the small calendar on his desk and counted the days until Dec.24th. It was 17 days away.

After five minutes of stressful configuring, Hamton dropped the pencil onto his desk and — yet again — pressed his hands to his face with a slight groan.

He just couldn't see any way around the issue. If he continued on as he did now — even if he were to work every day until the 24th — Hamton knew he would still be a few hundred dollars shy. In fact, now that he remembered, he would only have until the 23rd to buy the perfume; Shirley's mental suggestion to have the store owners hold the perfume would only last until that date, so, in truth, he had even less time.

Hamton couldn't fool himself: trying to raise that much money by then was next to impossible, even for a cartoon character.

He closed his eyes to dwell on this fact.

What am I going to do, Fifi?

He thought back to two evenings ago. . . . He remembered how it felt as Fifi hugged him, had her cheek pressed against his . . . how it felt to see her smile at him when they had fun at the Mall, how it felt as she talked lovingly about the perfume behind glass.

And that feeling was the reason for it: the reminder Hamton needed.

Hamton stood up determinedly from his seat, grabbed several sheets of paper, and returned to the kitchen table where he spent the next thirty minutes scribbling out fliers written with large black words. They were essentially the same as the cleaning fliers he posted up at school, only these ones read:

Need help with a chore?

Want an extra hand with a task?

Call HAMTON J. PIG to schedule

Price Upon Request

With an unpleasant thought about Elmyra and how she had tricked him into coming yesterday, Hamton added "Name and Address Required" at the bottom of each slip.

Then, with his hands full of fliers and a stapler, Hamton opened his front door and set off into the sunny morning, his determination leading him on.

There was no wind, no clouds to be seen, and the sun wasn't too bright — in all regards it was a perfect morning, despite the occasional chilly bite at Hamton's bare hands. His winter coat still had the scent of fresh autumn leaves, which made the walk towards the city pleasant. The winter air also held the wonderful scent of wood fireplaces, their chimney smoke fading into the cold air.

When he arrived in the city, Hamton spent an hour stapling fliers to wooden posts and asking the local businesses for permission to tape them in their windows. Since it was Sunday, most of the major places were closed, but Hamton figured those currently open, like the grocery store, coffee shops and restaurants, would do fine.

With the streets bare except for the occasional Sunday driver, Hamton reached Acme Looniveristy rather quickly and stapled the last of his fliers to the nearby posts. For those made of medal, he stuck the fliers down using some ACME Weather Resistant Sticky Tape (pretty convenient, huh?).

His work done, he took a short, relieved breath of winter air.

There, he thought, wiping his brow on his coat sleeve. This should bring in a few more dollars . . . I hope.

He stared at the white fliers stuck to the posts and brick walls, their edges fidgeting in the soft breeze.

It'll help, Hamton told himself. It has to. . . .

Standing outside the school's entrance arch, Hamton turned and made to head on home. He still had to finish his homework for Professor Granny, plus there was his job in Wacky Land he had to go to in a few hours.

"Oh you, I wonder what insanity awaits me then. . ." Hamton muttered dully, not knowing whether to feel anxious or eager. Before he reached the end of the school's block, however, he stopped at the sound of voices nearby.

"No, no, Concord!" said a small, female voice irksomely. "The green are supposed to go with the red, not the white!"

Curious, Hamton trekked back to the school's towering arch. The only ones standing in view were the large statues of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, their mortar boards still topped with snow.

"Oh...um, uhhh, gee, uhhhh, sorry." The person who spoke had a voice so dopey, it was either on purpose or else had the most mellow voice box in all of creation. Hamton could also hear flapping, as well as footprints of someone walking in the snow. He stepped through the arch and looked around the corner.

There he found three students standing close to the school wall. Sweetie Bird, flapping silently in the air. The one whose flapping was louder, and who talked in a clueless voice, was Concord Condor, hovering clumsily in the air while holding a wrapped ring of Christmas lights. And, standing on the ground, silently reading from a clipboard, was Calamity Coyote.

What are they doing here on a Sunday? Hamton pondered. He walked towards them, crossing the snowy school yard. His footsteps alerted the two birds and the young genius.

"Oh, hey, Hamton," said Sweetie, landing on Calamity's head. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, just came to hang some fliers. Trying to make some extra money." Hamton held up the cold metal stapler for the others to see.

"Yeah, I think I remember Babs telling me something about that last week," said Sweetie. "Something about cleaning houses?"

"Yeah, I am," Hamton answered. "I've cleaned a few houses already, but I decided to go around and find other jobs, too. More variety, more chances to earn money, you know? Well, I'll let you guys get back to —" but as Hamton turned around to head home, Sweetie called out.

"Wait! Hamton, you said you're looking to make some money?"

Hamton looked back at her. "Yeah?"

Sweetie flew over with Calamity following. When she was a few feet in front from Hamton, Sweetie explained, "If you want to, Hamton, we could use your help."

While one of her pink wings remained flapping, Sweetie pointed her other in the direction of Concord, who was watching them with a half-awake, mellow glance. He gave Hamton a friendly wave, which too looked a little off-balanced.

"Principal Bugs asked for helpers in putting up Christmas lights around the school," explained Sweetie. "Normally he hires someone to come and do it, but he thought of having the students do it this year. He's even paying us for our assistance."

With a mournful sigh, she looked over her small, pink, feathered shoulder. "However . . . Concord, sadly, isn't the most coordinated person in the world to work with. But, if you want to," she turned back to Hamton, "we'll gladly share some of our pay with you in exchange for help."

Calamity nodded in agreement.

Hamton, finding the convenience of the offer beyond what he could've expected, jumped onboard at once. "Yeah. Okay, sure. Where do I start?"

Delighted by this news, Sweetie and Calamity turned around and headed back towards Concord.

The next two hours of the morning passed by in a hurry. Working alongside Concord, Hamton followed Sweetie and Calamity's instructions on where to hang the strings of Christmas lights. It wasn't terribly difficult, except that every so often Concord would drop the string.

"Oh, uh, sorry, Hamton," Concord apologized after the string fell atop Hamton's head for the third time. "Butterfingers."

With Hamton on the ground and Concord gripping the wall's top, they progressed down the school yard. Sweetie hung back to give instructions.

"A little higher, Concord. Higher! Aaaaand, perfect! Okay, Hamton, that's far enough. Now hand it off to Concord again. How are we doing on string, Calamity?"

Calamity could be heard scribbling on his clipboard, making calculations of how much string would fit per area and how far apart they could be. If they were too close, they would run out of string before reaching the next side; if they were two far, the walls would look bare.

By the time 11:00 sounded from the clock tower, the four students had circled the entire front yard. Hamton stuffed his hands into his pockets and squeezed them, trying to warm them after two hours of holding lights.

"Okay, Calamity," said Sweetie, "let's see how they look."

Giving a thumbs-up, Calamity pulled a remote control from out of nowhere and pressed the button.

Though the sunlight made them hard to see, Hamton could just make out a thousand tiny bulbs, spread out along the walls, illuminated in many colors. And the walls weren't the only things that had been bedecked with bows of holly. The statues of Bugs and Daffy looked like they and their graduation gowns had contracted a multi-colored pox.

"They'll look really pretty at night," said Sweetie. "Okay, boys, I think that'll be enough for today."

Calamity pressed the button again and the faint colored dots disappeared.

Concord reached over and shook Hamton's hand.

"Thanks a bunch, Hamton," he said in his goofy tone. "I would've kept us out here much longer if you hadn't come along."

"No problem," said Hamton modestly. "Happy to help."

"Thanks a bunch," said Sweetie, flying up in front of Hamton. "We won't get paid until tomorrow. Hope that's okay."

"Sure, I'm no hurry," said Hamton, even though his mission said otherwise.

"Um, uh, that'll be, uh, fifteen dollars you're getting, Hamton," said Concord. "Hope you don't mind, but I'm splitting it from my own pay. I feel that's fair, since you only did half the work with hanging the lights."

"That's perfectly fine," said Hamton gratefully. "Fifteen dollars sounds great."

"If you want, Hamton," said Sweetie, "we could also use some help decorating the school's arch and hallways. We'll be doing them after school for the next two days."

"That sounds great! Count me in!" said Hamton, giving a thumbs up. "So, I'll see you all after school tomorrow?"

"Yes, siree!" said Sweetie.

"Yep, yep," Concord added.

Calamity held up a wooden sign that read, "You got it!"

"Okay, then. I'll see you all later. Thanks again for the job!" And with that, Hamton took his leave, grabbing his stapler as he left the school yard, happiness fueling his spirit.

WORK CITED

The Mamas and the Papas. "California Dreamin'." If You Can Believe Your Eyes and Ears, Dunhill Records, 1965.

Hamton's luck seems to have picked up, but just you wait. Next chapter, something's going to happen that will change his mission for the whole story.

All comments, positive or negative, are welcome.