Arnold sweated his way through the next few weeks. Scarface, never one to be very cheerful, seemed distracted and out-of-sorts. He pressed Arnold for every detail about Linda that he could think of.

Arnold knew everything about Linda. He could supply any answer required of him, and could have given answers to questions that were never asked. He even knew the names of her childhood pets.

He was in love, and desperately trying to hide it.

When he dared to think about it, he thought she just might love him back.

He didn't dare think about the fact that he still hadn't told her just who Mister Scarface was.

It was another Saturday, which meant another date with Linda. Arnold hummed to himself as he straightened his bowtie in the mirror.

"Dummy."

Arnold turned to face Mister Scarface, who was seated on the couch. "Yes?"

"Bring her back here. I want to meet her."

Arnold smiled nervously. "Oh, I'm sure that next week-"

"Tonight," he snapped.

Arnold nodded slowly and picked up his hat. "T-tonight. Yessir."

He could feel the beady eyes burning into him as he closed the door.

Linda had promised him a surprise this afternoon. His eyes widened in shock when she presented him with the surprise: two tickets to an old-fashioned vaudeville act, complete with a ventriloquist.

"I…we could go to a movie," he suggested.

"Now, Arnie, I've had these tickets for weeks! We're going." Linda gave a happy little sigh at the thought.

The show was insipid and lackluster by Arnold's standards. The comedians dropped the punchlines, the tumblers dropped each other, and the ventriloquist's lips were moving.

Linda laughed as they walked out into the warm afternoon air. "I thought the show was very funny. What did you think, Arnie?"

Lips pressed together, Arnold shrugged.

"C'mon, honey! Bet you've never seen a ventriloquist that good in your life!"

That stung. He turned to her, lips still together, and a nearby bush remarked "Balderdash!" in a prissy English accent. A tree to the other side of them agreed with a deep, slow "Ayup," followed with the very air overhead chattering girlishly.

"Arnie?" Linda asked, confused, looking from the bush to the tree. "Are you…"

He smiled. "Hi, Linda!" greeted the mailbox with Arnold's voice.

Linda squealed and grabbed him in a tight hug. Her pale pink skirt blew in the breeze and wrapped around his leg like a cat. "Oh, Arnie! That's amazing!"

He flushed with happiness as she held him, savoring that hug as if it was the first she'd ever given him. As they continued walking down the path, Linda began to turn to her own apartment.

"I was thinking we could go to my place for a bit," stammered out Arnold. Linda stared at him curiously. "You know, for coffee…"

"Okay, Arnie," she smiled, taking him by the hand. "Lead the way."

Arnold hesitated outside the door, hand on the doorknob.

"Forget your keys?" Linda asked softly.

"No, no," he dismissed her question, "It's just that…well. Here we go." He pushed the door open slowly and showed Linda in.

Mister Scarface was sitting on the couch, facing the door. Arnold gulped. "Linda, this is…this is Mister Scarface."

"Oh, is this your dummy?" Linda burbled, running over to the couch and bouncing down next to him. Before Arnold could move, she had Scarface upside down in midair and was examining him all over. One of his shoes clonked woodenly against his face.

"That's…don't do that, please," he asked, gently tugging Mister Scarface out of her hands. He settled him down in his customary spot in the crook of his arm. Scarface's eyes swung around and locked on Arnold, giving him a death glare.

"Why not, honey? He's just a dummy. Unless he's an antique or something." Linda tilted her head questioningly at him.

"He's…" Arnold began.

"He's not used to bein' upside down," said Mister Scarface. Arnold stared at him in astonishment. He wasn't angry at her? He wasn't even annoyed? He sounded like he was joking around with her! Mister Scarface did not joke.

"Oh, how cute! He's a little gangster, isn't he?" Linda giggled.

"Yes," murmured Arnold.

"Hey, don't waste your time talkin' to the dummy. I'm right here, in livin' color," Scarface interrupted. Arnold, who was used to this treatment, could only blink in amazement at how…at how not mean Mister Scarface sounded. It was unreal.

Arnold blinked and refocused on what was happening in front of him. Mister Scarface was moving now, putting a hand on Linda's. "So, sweetheart, you wanna get some dinner?" he said to her.

She laughed uneasily and glanced at her watch. "Arnold, honey, don't you remember? We're having dinner with my parents today, then we're taking that horse-drawn cart ride-"

"I told ya, stop talkin' to the dummy," Scarface snapped irritably. His hand rubbed Linda's. "Dinner with your folks, huh? I'll get my good hat."

Linda pulled her hand away from Scarface's. "Sorry, pal, you're not invited," she teased, flicking him in the nose with a shining pink fingernail. "Humans only. Come on, Arnie, put the dummy down and let's go already. We're going to be late."

"But-" he protested. Scarface rubbed his nose with his empty hand in shock.

Linda grabbed Scarface by the front of his shirt and yanked him right out of Arnold's grip, tossing him carelessly on the couch as she took hold of Arnold's arm. He landed on his face, legs splayed to either side, arms tangled beneath him. Arnold froze in fear as a growl of rage started to emanate from the couch. "We can come back for coffee. Let's go, Arnie," Linda insisted, pulling him as hard as she could out of the room.

"Get back here, dummy," growled Scarface from the couch as Linda dragged Arnold out the door. "Get back here right now or-"

The door slammed shut.