"What?" Anne replied, turning to face the window that Mush was staring so strangely at. She gasped at the sight that stood before her. Large gusts of winter snow billowed endlessly like cotton in the brightened lamp light of the street.
"I don't think dat we's gunna be goin' ta Tibby's tanight," Mush groaned, continually staring out at the blizzard.
"Oh my God," Jack said, his voice become raspy, "I guess it does mean dat we's gunna be stayin' in tanight."
"Damn! I sure was lookin' forward ta dinner too," Blink groaned, taking Tommy's other hand.
Race, Blink and Mush escorted Tommy upstairs to the washroom where they intended on cutting his hair and making him more presentable, though Tommy thought otherwise.
"Let go of me!" Tommy screamed, splashing suds and bubbles about the room as he struggled to be released.
"Your sissy wants you to look nice an' clean. I hate ta say it, but dat mop a yours is makin' ya look far from it," Mush laughed, ruffling his hair with his palm.
"You are going to hurt me!" Tom whaled, continually flailing his arms in the air.
"Look kid. We ain't gunna hurt ya," Blink assured, releasing Tom, but blocking the door from an escape.
"See look. Dis causes no pain," he smiled, grabbing a twig of Race's curly hair and chopping it off as a demonstration.
"Hey!" Racetrack yelled angrily, "Man do I need a smoke."
"I thought ya said ya was gunna quit," Mush laughed.
"Well, anybody's gunna need somethin' ta ease deir brains after hangin' around you twits for long enough," he groaned, going over to sit in the corner as he lit up his Cuban.
"Shoir Race, shoir," Blink chuckled, grabbing the scissors from Race's grasp.
"Now are ya gunna let us cut dat crap a yours or not?" Mush asked, kneeling down to face Tommy.
He simply nodded and Mush and Blink went at scrubbing and pruning the poor child to death.