Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. All other characters belong to their respective creators.
Chapter 08. The Giant Slayers
"I am strong. I will not let Snoddy ruin the luncheon today," Pegasus directed meditatively.
"I am strong. I will not let Snoddy ruin the luncheon today," repeated Stress.
"Deep breath in."
Stress inhaled slowly.
"And out. How do you feel?" asked Peg.
"A little better," Stress said. She shuffled through her index card notes again while sipping her coffee.
The two girls were having breakfast in the seventh floor dining room. The dining room was smaller and markedly less popular than the cafeteria on the second floor, and for that reason it was quieter and the better place to study. With several modest round tables scattered around the imperial purple-carpeted room, the place even emulated the feel of a secluded study hall.
"I just wish Jonathan didn't pair me up with Snoddy to present at the CCLS Luncheon today," she said despondently.
Peg crinkled her nose and raised her glass of orange juice in the air. "Here's to hoping Snoddy doesn't talk about life lessons he learned from keg parties."
Shoulders slumped with doubt, Stress nevertheless met the toast. "Here, here."
"There you are!"
The two girls turned to see Adren jogging towards them. "Good morning!" she said brightly.
Stress made with the introductions. "Peg, this is the wonderful Adren I told you about. Adren, Peg - the reason why I haven't gone completely crazy yet from working here."
"And by 'working here,' she means 'working with Snoddy,'" Peg added helpfully.
Adren groaned at the name.
"You're already familiar with Captain Fratboy, huh?" Peg noted with empathy as Stress waved Adren over to sit and join them.
"Unfortunately," Adren nodded, in the same dejected way Stress had responded before. "He actually takes me and Jake out to lunch sometimes, which is nice of him… until he starts with his, 'you know, when I was in college with Pi Kappa Alpha…'" Adren imitated in a deep voice. Just thinking about the two hour-lunches listening to Snoddy and Jake talk so excitedly about their "little club" was exhausting.
"Jake is the other intern, right?" Peg questioned.
"Right," Stress confirmed. "Fratboy Junior."
"Ladies, ladies! How are you all on this beautiful morning?"
Adren turned round curiously to see who it was that was speaking to them, while Peg and Stress stiffened, immediately recognizing the strained, mousy voice. After months of working at Pulitzer Publishing, the voice had become a trigger for a feeling of dreaded annoyance. They slowly tilted up their heads to see Jonathan hovering over their shoulders. He wore an expectant smile on his face, eyeing the notes Stress had laid out before her.
"I see you've been preparing, Miss Stress! Excellent. I trust you will cover in detail every point I outlined in the syllabus I sent you yesterday?"
Stress forced a smile. "Yes, of course," she said through her teeth.
"Excellent, excellent! Fantastic. I'm expecting a lot from you and Mr. Snoddy today. You do know you that you two are the first to kick off the new CCLS? It is absolutely imperative to set just the right tone for our brilliant little interns." Jonathan placed a hand on Adren's shoulder and patted it encouragingly.
Adren covertly raised a brow in Peg's direction.
Stress summoned a laugh. "Right," she agreed.
Jonathan's grin grew wider. "Excellent. Remember, first impressions are crucial. I'll be keeping an eye on you two today," he said in an eerily cheery voice. "I know you won't let me down," he added. With that, he turned round and glided and tapped out of the room, jumping and clicking his heels just before disappearing around the corner.
Stress, Peg, and Adren stared after his puzzling exit. They waited until he was out of sight to let out their caught breaths of anxiety.
"He's crazy, that's all there is to it," said Stress with finality.
"What are you talking about?" Adren asked, concerned.
Stress pulled out from her bag a stack of papers neatly stapled together. "Look at this. This is the syllabus he sent me yesterday: 15 pages of bullet point notes. How does he expect us to go over all of this 'in detail,'" she said, flipping the pages, "in under forty minutes?"
Adren's eyes widened in disbelief and Peg's head tilted to the side wondering how Jonathan could have possibly thought anyone could accomplish running through his lengthy notes in such a short amount of time. "Forty minutes," she whispered to herself. A sudden panic gripped her as though she were forgetting something important.
"Minutes—what time is it?" she shouted, jumping from her seat and glancing at her phone for the time. Pegasus groaned and hurriedly gathered her bag, laptop, and leftover breakfast, stuffing a piece of toast in her mouth when she ran out of hands. "Sorry, Stress, I have a meeting to get to. I'll be at the luncheon this afternoon," she rattled, her words garbled by the toast. "And don't worry too much about that ridiculous syllabus. You're the Editor with the editorial experience presenting at the Editorial Luncheon, so you know better than he does."
"I am the Editor," Stress meditated.
With a satisfied nod and a goodbye to the girls, Peg scurried out of the dining room and headed down to the Lab.
"Stacy, sweetheart, don't say that. You know I…" Swifty lowered his voice before continuing. "You know I love you."
"Shaddup, loverboy, and help me get the damn bastard that just attacked me!" Race yelled from his cubicle. "Someone get that headpiece from his ear and chuck it out the window. Can't believe she got him that damn Bluetooth headset…"
"Swifty, get off the phone and get to work," Jack said authoritatively. He himself was concentrating on his computer, his fingers punching the keyboard rapidly, trying to get back to Race in World of Warcraft.
"What was that?" Skittery said in frustration when Swifty's hand slipped and his avatar did a dizzying pirouette. The IT tech was standing over Swifty's cubicle trying to get him to hang up on his annoying girlfriend and pay attention to the game.
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. It's just the guys joking around. You know how they are. They're such clowns, haha. No! What are you talking about? Of course, they love you! They're always saying how much they want to see you again."
Race sent Skittery a frown. "He talking about us wanting to see his girlfriend again?" he asked disbelievingly.
Before Skittery could answer, Pegasus came scampering into the Web corner with arms full of things and mouth full of toast.
"Sorry, I'm…" She caught everyone playing World of Warcraft and slowed in setting down her bag and laptop. "—late. What's going on?"
"Warcraft session," Jack replied absently, still absorbed by his game.
"Don't we have a meeting now?"
"Meeting?" Jack repeated dumbly. He chanced a glance at his wristwatch, then promptly jumped back in his seat. "Damn, it's already 10. Uh…" Jack stared longingly at his computer. After a few seconds pause, he repositioned himself and continued playing, a mischievous smile on his face. "As the meeting organizer, I hereby postpone the Web meeting to 10:05AM."
A mumble of "yeah, yeah"s answered.
"Thanks for the reminder, Peg," Jack added.
"You going to eat that anytime?" Skittery suddenly asked her.
"Huh?" Peg realized she was still clutching at the toast with her teeth. She laughed at herself and finally took a bite now that she was settled. "Forgot that was there."
"You're such a dork," he chuckled.
"I am not," she said indignantly.
"Your screen name is 'I'm a Pirate.'"
"So?"
"You watch Dirty Jobs marathons."
"It's an entertaining and educational show."
"You laugh at Davey's jokes."
"They're so bad that they're funny."
"You have an Indiana Jones action figure on your desk."
Her eyes flitted to the six-inch replica figure in question. "That happens to be a collector's item."
"Verdict says… you're a dork."
"Verdict says your evidence makes me a geek, not a dork," she said victoriously, though as the words came out, she wasn't quite sure if geekdom was any better than dorkdom. "Nerd," she finished unsatisfactorily.
"Stacy, love, I'm listening to everything you're saying. You were just talking about how Patricia tried on the same green dress you did and looked horrible in it. See? I'm listening. I know, sweetie."
Peg rose from her seat and, resting her elbows on the cubicle wall, watched Swifty curiously, wondering how he was playing the game and talking on the phone at the same time; belatedly, she realized that Swifty had gotten a new headset for his phone. "Oh, great," she muttered between chews.
"Yeah," agreed Skittery with a resigned sigh.
"All right," Jack said, clapping his hands. "It's five after ten. We have ourselves a meeting in the cubice, boys. Off the phone, Swifts. You're girlfriend ain't coming to the meeting. 'Ey Mush, Blink!" he hollered, calling the Web interns stationed in the main section of the Lab. "You guys can come, too."
The meeting lasted longer than usual, going just past an hour and a half. Immediately after Jack wrapped up, Peg picked up her notes and bounded out of her seat to get back to her desk.
"Where're you hopping off to?" Jack asked, curious. Peg was normally the first to get back to work after the meetings, but her abnormally anxious rush signaled something important.
She apologized. "I have a couple of things to get done before the Luncheon at noon."
His ears perked at the mention of a luncheon and the possibility of free food. "What Luncheon? There's a Luncheon?"
"Yeah, you know. The Luncheon Series Jonathan is hosting every week—the CCLS."
"What did that stand for again?" Race questioned, tapping his temple. He vaguely remembered Jonathan mentioning that at the Intern Orientation.
"Company Class Lecture Series," Mush supplied.
"Oh, yeah."
"Stress and Snoddy are presenting for Editorial today," Peg informed. "Can you believe Jonathan sent Stress 15 pages of notes to include in the presentation?"
Jack rolled his eyes. "Guy's got nothing better to do with Pulitzer on vacation this week."
"Well, it's got Stress completely worried."
"Why?" Blink asked, not yet learned in Jonathan's ways.
"Because," Jack began, "if he's not happy with what he sees, they're going to get called into his office. And you don't want to get called into his office. Trust me."
"Yeah, we've been there when he found out it was us that set up that train of dominos from his office to the bathroom and back that one time. Lemme tell ya, when Pulitzer's not in the building, Jonathan loves to hear himself talk and pace around like he's the authority around here. That hour was the most brain pain I'd ever endured in my life," said Swifty.
"And he's dating Stacy, so that's saying a lot," Skittery offered.
"Shut up," Swifty retaliated as the others tried lamely to hide their chortles. "Why are you here anyway? Don't you have work to do?"
"We're done, right? It's okay if I go?" asked Peg.
"Yeah! Yeah, go ahead," Jack said. He sat back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Tell Stress I said good luck."
The comment elicited a giddy grin. She responded with a "sure thing," and left.
"You guys have to go to the Luncheon, too?" Swifty asked, directing his question at the interns.
"Yup," Mush replied.
Then he asked what everyone else was pondering. "You know if there's going to be free food?"
"Don't think so. The e-mail from Jonathan said we should bring our lunches down to the cafeteria."
"Well, now there ain't no point in goin'," Race said, disappointed.
Mush peeked at his watch and sighed resignedly. "Guess we should get going, too," he said, prodding Kid Blink. "I've got to finish that last batch of graphics before lunch."
Grinning, Blink deepened his voice and with a gravely tone said, "Because if you don't put the work in, you'll be fired." It was a pitch-perfect imitation of Pulitzer.
The guys laughed. Reluctantly, they pushed back from the conference table, stretched and stood from their chairs. It was time to get back to their cubicles and work.
Jack didn't move. "Wait."
The boys stopped mid-motion.
"Say that again," he said to Blink. "Your Pulitzer impression."
Blink cleared his throat dramatically. "Because if you don't put the work in, you'll be fired," he repeated, in exactly the same way Pulitzer had said at the Intern Orientation. "Why, when I was your age, I was already a Captain in the war!" Blink added, to continued laughter from the other guys.
Jack stared at him admirably while still rubbing his chin. "Can you say anything else in that voice?"
"Haven't tried it before," Blink said normally. He cleared his throat again, stretched his mouth up and down a couple of times, and loosened his lips. "I think I can," he said in Pulitzer's voice. "Jonathan, Seitz! What is this crap?" Blink tried. "Testing. 1, 2, 3. Ponies, parchment, Xerox. Where the hell is my bagel and coffee? Jonathan!" he further tested, adjusting the intonation and inserting Pulitzer's trademark guttural, clicking sounds as he went along.
"That's brilliant. That is brilliant," Jack said, leaning forward in his seat.
Race, Swifty, and Skittery immediately recognized the glint in Jack's eyes. It was the same mischievous glint he had when they planned "Operation: Ketchup" and "Operation: Dominos," which unfortunately had been the one where they got caught. It had been a while since Jack had had that look—honestly, the boys had been getting worried. The three guys looked at each other for a keyed up moment before rushing back to their seats, huddling around Jack's notepad.
Mush and Blink still stood by the door without a clue. Jack waved them over.
"You guys are about to become initiated into Team Giant Slayers," Jack explained proudly.
"Team—Team Giant Slayers? What's that?" Mush asked.
"Only the best prank team in all of Pulitzer Publishing," said Race.
"With a jaw-dropping fifty percent success rate," Skittery added wryly. "But all the other teams are still at zero."
"Awesome, I'm in," Blink said, nodding with uncontained excitement. "So, who are we targeting?"
Noon. Cafeteria
The cafeteria was usually fitted with four-seater rectangular tables, with two-seater squares lined along the walls. There was a slight retro feel to the place, with its black-and-white tiled floor, polished milky tables, and bright red seats. Today, the tables were pushed back with two chairs positioned at each, facing the "front."
It looked like a classroom out of a Tim Burton movie.
Pegasus found Adren waving from across the cafeteria, indicating the empty seat next to her. Peg started to hasten her step, but put on the brakes when she saw Jonathan strolling in from the opposite way, followed by a young woman whom Peg assumed was the new Assistant Jack had been talking about. They took the seats directly in front of Adren.
Peg sat down next to Adren, who then introduced her to two of her friends from Human Resources, Corky and Polaroid. Corky, as an employee, wasn't obligated to attend the CCLS, but she eagerly decided to tag along so she could learn more about the publishing industry and the company.
It wasn't long before Snoddy strutted into the cafeteria with the intern Jake on his heels. A reluctant-looking Stress entered soon after, discreetly holding onto her index cards.
With the two Editors now in front of the room, Jonathan rose from his chair and ahem'd to gather everyone's attention.
"Welcome, interns, to the first of Pulitzer Publishing's Company Class Lecture Series! As you all know, this is the first time we at Pulitzer Publishing are hosting a weekly event like this. Just as a little refresher, because I'm sure you all read my e-mails, the CCLS is a weekly speaker series. Each week will feature representatives from a different department.
To commence our new series, we have Mr. Snoddy and Miss Stress, two dazzling Editors from our famous Editorial department. Why don't I let them introduce themselves?" Jonathan turned to the two Editors. "I turn it over to you now," he said meaningfully.
For a moment, worry flashed across Stress' features. Snoddy, however, smiled brightly, clapped his hands, and took center stage with overflowing confidence. That confidence was sometimes annoying and always baffling, but today it was miraculously comforting. Stress stood a little straighter and thought, Maybe we can pull this off. Maybe we can go through the crazy syllabus, if Snoddy just doesn't talk about—
"Show of hands, guys: how many of you have heard of Pi Kappa Alpha?"
—that. Stress caught herself from shrinking under the table.
A couple of hands went up. "Awesome, awesome," Snoddy said, nodding his head with satisfaction. "You guys rock. Anyway, my name's Snoddy and I'm an Editor here. First things first, a round of high fives go out to all of you new interns. Some of you may not know, but I'm Pi Kappa Alpha myself, and so is my buddy over there—you the man, Jake!—and that we're here at Pulitzer Publishing shows how prestigious this company is. Us Pi Kappa Alpha only go to the best of the best, so congrats to all of you for making it here with us." He gestured towards Stress. "This here's Stress, fellow Editor. She's not Pi Kappa Alpha, but she's still pretty awesome."
Stress gave a small wave and was just about to introduce herself when an electronic melody interrupted.
Jonathan jumped, reaching for his pockets. He yanked out his phone and, noting that it was an unknown call and therefore definitely not Mr. Pulitzer, immediately shut it off. He laughed, a nervous sound. "I thought I put it on vibrate," he said contritely. "Please continue."
Stress nodded. "Hi everyone, I'm Stress—"
A muffled ring ring! stopped her again. Heads turned towards the sound, which came again from Jonathan's direction. But it was Acorn who started this time. Ignoring the irritated look from Jonathan, she took a look at her ringing phone. A private number. Acorn thought she ought to take the call in case it was important. Sending the two Editors an apologetic glance, she rushed out of the cafeteria.
Jonathan shook his head. He would have to have a word with his Assistant later. "Please continue," he repeated.
But Stress didn't have the chance to do so, for Acorn reentered the room, wearing a puzzled expression. She held out the phone to Jonathan.
"I'm afraid you have to take this call right now," she said in a low voice.
"Who is it?" Jonathan snapped.
"It's Mr. Pulitzer."
Jonathan jumped from his seat in a moment of panic, snatching Acorn's phone from her hands. Pressing the phone to his ear with a meek "Mr. Pulitzer, how is your trip so far," he intended to leave the cafeteria for privacy, but froze on the spot instead.
"Yes, sir. Why, the CCLS, of course. But—what about…um, the latest Sparks, if I remember correctly. Uh, I'm sorry, Mr. Pulitzer, I'm not quite sure I heard you correctly."
A heated blast of a response sounded from the phone.
"Y-yes, yes. But what about the CCLS? No, no, of course not. Yes, sir." Still clutching the phone to his ear, Jonathan slowly moved to the front of the room, standing uncertainly in front of Snoddy and Stress and facing the perplexed interns.
"May I have your attention for a moment, please," he announced. "I'd like to commence a discussion about the, um… the latest Nicholas Sparks novel. I'm sure many of you are familiar with Nicholas Sparks?"
Behind him, Snoddy frowned and shook his head. "Not cool, man." He turned to Stress and shrugged his shoulders disbelievingly. "What's he doing?"
Stress was just as lost as everyone else in the room as Jonathan launched into a summary of the newest Nicholas Sparks book. He had been making such a big fuss about the luncheon since the beginning of the summer, that Stress found it strange he would commence a book club discussion right now, of all times. If that wasn't strange enough, after he skimmed through the plot of the book, he began to tap dance out of the blue. (To everyone's surprise, he was actually very good). If that still wasn't strange enough, Jonathan had kept talking into the phone the entire time, until he, mercifully, let everyone get back to work.
Jonathan, flustered and red in the face, tossed the phone back to his Assistant and quickly disappeared. As the interns dispersed, murmuring in confusion, amusement, and awe, Stress met up with Peg and Adren.
Completely bewildered, she asked, "What just happened?"
"You guys are about to become initiated into Team Giant Slayers," Jack explained proudly.
"Team—Team Giant Slayers? What's that?" Mush asked.
"Only the best prank team in all of Pulitzer Publishing," said Race.
"With a jaw-dropping fifty percent success rate," Skittery added wryly. "But all the other teams are still at zero, so I guess that makes us the best."
"Awesome, I'm in," Blink said, nodding with uncontained excitement. "So, who are we targeting?"
"All the official prank teams in the building have one target and one target only," said Swifty.
The interns ventured an educated guess. "Jonathan."
"Right."
Race wanted to get right down to business. "What's the operation?"
Jack scrawled the answer across the top of the page: "Operation: Rescue Editorial."
"Ah," said Swifty, "A.K.A. 'Sabotage Jonathan's Precious CLCS,' or whatever it's called. Brilliant. I'm in."
He outlined the plan and handed out assignments. "Skitts, we need you on your laptop. Swifty, get your phone and your new Bluetooth. Mush, you're going to be our eyes. Race, you and me are going to make good use of that screenwriting class we took Junior year. And Blink, get those pretty lips of yours ready. We're meeting in five on the third floor, conference room six."
Jack gathered the boys into a huddle. Putting their hands together in the center, they cheered, "Giant Slayers, hoohah!" The boys became a blur of movement as they went to make preparations.
Located at the far end of the hall, conference room six was the smallest of all the rooms on the third floor. The room looked like an ordinary conference room, of course, with the horseshoe set-up of the white spectrum tables, comfortable wheeled chairs, a dry erase board on the north wall, and a projector in the back of the room as well the accompanying projector screen. It was the perfect place to play out the Giant Slayers operations.
Skittery hurried into the conference room with a black, bulky laptop, flipped open the screen and rapidly went to work. Swifty returned with his phone and began fitting Mush with the headset, making sure it was as inconspicuous as possible. Race came back with notepads, an unlabeled spray bottle, extra markers and erasers for the dry erase board in the room, and Blink entered with his water bottle. With the team reassembled, Jack closed the door and drew shut the blinds that looked out to the empty hallway.
"All right, boys, here's the deal. Our boy Jonathan is a complete sucker when it comes to this guy, so we have our work cut out for us today. Skitts, you in the system yet? Whaddya got for me?" Jack asked as Race handed out notepads to everyone. The two then took their positions in the front of the room.
"Pulling up Jonathan's cell phone number." Skittery grabbed his own phone from his bag and hooked it up to the laptop with a long USB cable. He had to fiddle with the phone system and mask his number so it didn't get caught by the call recipient's caller ID.
"But, isn't that illegal?" Blink asked as he watched Skittery hack into company files.
"How else are we supposed to get Jonathan's number?" Race said as though the question were a silly one.
"All right. Swifts, Mush, you guys ready?"
"Yep. Mush has got my headset." Swifty dialed Mush's phone number on his own phone. Mush picked up and they tested the sound. He gave Swifty a thumbs up. "Sound test complete. We're good."
"Good. It's almost noon. Mush, you can start heading down to the cafeteria. Let us know when the show begins. We're counting on you for the play-by-play," Jack said with a wink.
Mush saluted with a wide grin and left the room.
They waited for Mush's go-ahead. Jack kneaded Blink's shoulders as Blink stretched out his lips and cheeks. Race tapped his foot impatiently while Swifty tapped his fingers on the table, staring at his phone. A few minutes passed in waiting silence.
The phone buzzed. Swifty answered quickly and listened. Mush was on the scene.
"Jonathan just came into the cafeteria," Swifty informed the others. After a few moments: "He's with a really pretty blond girl."
"Must be his assistant," said Jack.
"He's presenting the Editors," Swifty relayed.
"Blink," Jack called finally. "Skitts is going to call Jonathan's phone from his laptop. Here's the phone," he said, handing Blink Skittery's phone connected to the laptop. "Me and Race are going to write your lines, so keep an eye on the board here. Ready?"
Blink took a gulp of water, gurgled, and nodded.
Skittery programmed the phone to speaker mode and initiated the call. The room went silent as the phone rang. Swifty frowned as he listened to Mush's report.
"Jonathan's not taking the bait," he said.
"Damn it," Race muttered.
"Skitts, can you pull up the phone number for a Miss Acorn? That's his assistant's," Jack said.
In a matter of seconds, Skittery found the number and dialed. Jack readied himself at the board as the phone started ringing again.
"Hello?" came a feminine voice.
Acorn had picked up! Blink watch Jack rapidly scribble on the board.
"Miss Acorn! How do you do? Where the hell is Jonathan?" Blink exclaimed gruffly.
"Mr. Pulitzer? Um, Jonathan's attending the Company Class Lecture Series right now. Would you like to speak with him?"
"Why on earth else would I be calling?"
"Right, of course. One moment, please."
Swifty gave a thumbs up as Mush reported Acorn's reentrance.
"Mr. Pulitzer!" squeaked Jonathan's voice. "How is your trip so far?"
"Nevermind my trip! Stop everything you're doing at once."
"Yes, sir."
"Now, what the hell is going on over there?"
"Why, the CCLS, of course."
"Goddamit, Jonathan, this isn't the time to be slacking off and putting on meaningless shows for vacant children."
"But—what about…"
"I say, Jonathan, what was the last book you read?"
"Um, the latest Sparks, if I remember correctly."
Jack and Race raised their brows while Swifty jotted a message on his notepad: "Somehow, I'm not surprised."
"Sparks? Fine, fine then. Let me show you something. I want you to tell those vacant children what this Sparks book was about."
"Uh, I'm sorry, Mr. Pulitzer, I'm not quite sure I understand."
"There isn't anything to understand, you nitwit!"
"Y-yes, yes. But what about the CCLS?"
"I am the founder of this company!" Blink roared. "Do not question my authority."
"No, no, of course not. Yes, sir."
The Giant Slayers only half-listened to Jonathan prattle on about Sparks' "most poignant and heartbreaking story yet." Skittery raised his notepad with a message to get Jack and Race's attention: "Look what I found."
The two boys momentarily relieved their posts to gather around Skittery's laptop. He had been scavenging through the company's system and found, in the Human Resources directory, Jonathan's original application for the Assistant position. Skittery scrolled down and pointed to the Special Skills section of his resume.
"Tap dancing?" Jack read, suppressing a laugh. "We gotta see that." Going back to the board, Jack began writing Blink's next set of lines.
"That's enough blithering! Now look at those interns of yours. I'm willing to bet half of them are asleep," Blink said.
"Mush, start snoring," Swifty directed.
"But, Mr. Pulitzer, you told me before to—"
"Nevermind what I told you before. We need to look to the future. Now wake them up, wake them up! I don't put up with those hoodlums you call interns so they could sleep in my building!"
"Right away, Mr. Pulitzer." The boys heard Jonathan calling out to the interns. "All right, we can end our discussion here—"
"What is that? Get them up and wide awake to work! Shout, stomp your feet—do your tap dance routine!" Blink shouted, waving his arms wildly for effect.
"My tap dance routine?" There was a long pause on the other line. The Giant Slayers became anxious, wondering if they aroused Jonathan's suspicions. Finally, he said, almost tearfully, "Mr. Pulitzer, you remembered. I can't believe you remembered that I tapped. I thought you had forgotten when you didn't attend my tap school's show last month. But… you're right, sir: we mustn't dwell on the past! It would be my absolute honor to perform my routine at your request."
Five minutes after Jonathan hastily dismissed the interns, arrived a text message from Mush to Swifty. Attached to it was a video Mush took of Jonathan's routine, including the standing ovation he received and his bashful reaction. Mush's message read: "Gotta hand it to him. He actually got some nice footwork."
After watching the impressive performance, the Giant Slayers couldn't agree more.
Author's Note: It lives!
I apologize for the sparse updates. It's been a while since I've sat down to write so this chapter feels a bit rusty, but hopefully there were still some fun moments in there.
Snoddy-style high fives go out to Acorn, Adren, Corky, Eavis, Song For A Rainy Day, and Stress—thank you so much for taking the time to review the last chapter!