AN: So, in my everlasting stupidity, I never realized that FF had been deleting my page breaks. Oops. Hopefully they'll work this time.(: ENJOY!
The Greatest Joy
Sequel to Ribbons and Bo's
Chapter Seven: Contenders
Of course, Scipio hadn't considered in a million years the possibility that someone else would return to Venice and be on the lookout for the mystical merry-go-round.
Ernesto Barbarossa had never been good at doing what he was told. In fact, he enjoyed doing the exact opposite. So when his teacher told him not to wander off during their class trip to Venice, he had to do just that.
He had missed Venice after the many years he had been away. The snotty, bratty little kids he had left in charge of his shop had stopped sending him the money and he had a bone to pick with them. So when the teacher had her back turned, he made use of the intricate maze of alleys and disappeared.
At first, he got lost. His shop had always been so hidden and it didn't help that he hadn't been to it in so many years. But finally, after asking for directions several times, Ernesto Barbarossa successfully located the cheap souvenir shop. His souvenir shop.
It had changed dramatically. It no longer looked like the sort of place that housed scoundrels and stolen goods. It looked almost…cozy. He shuddered at the thought.
Trying to look much older and in-command than he was, Barbarossa marched into the shop. There, behind the counter, stood the hedgehog boy. Or at least, Barbarossa was sure it was the hedgehog boy. He looked older and taller, but then again he had aged nine years and some change. There was stubble decorating his chin, clean teeth in his mouth, and his voice was deeper, much deeper, than Barbarossa's.
"Hello, sir. How may I help you?" the boy (it felt strange for Barbarossa to call him a man) asked.
Barbarossa decided that he had no time for nonsense. "I demand to know what has happened to my payments, hedgehog boy!"
Riccio looked at him for a moment, extremely puzzled. Then he flared up. "Who the hell do you think you are? Barging into this shop and demanding some bloody payments!"
Barbarossa stood straighter and puffed out his chest. "I am Ernesto Barbarossa, you insolent little fool!"
Riccio couldn't help it—he burst out laughing. This silly little boy! Claiming to be Ernesto Barbarossa! "Mosca!" he called. "Get out here! You've got to see this!"
"What is it, Riccio?" Mosca asked, walking from the back of the shop.
Barbarossa pointed at him. "You too! All this time you dolts have been running my shop!"
Snickering, Riccio whispered to Mosca, "See this kid here, Mosc? He's claiming to be Ernesto Barbarossa! Ha! Imagine that!"
Soon enough, Mosca was giggling along with his friend as Barbarossa's anger only increased. The gall of them! Laughing at his expense!
Balling his hands into chubby fists, Barbarossa screeched, "I demand to see a legitimate adult this instant!"
"Sorry, mate, but the both of us are legitimate adults!" Mosca chuckled.
Young Barbarossa was seething with rage. These bumbling idiots had no right whatsoever to run his shop. He would get them out of here, that's what he would do. He would kick them out and take control of his shop once again.
"GET OUT!" He shouted suddenly. Riccio and Mosca stopped laughing, staring at him. Barbarossa stormed over to where they stood and violently grabbed them, pulling them away from the counter and out the door. "And see to it that you DON'T COME BACK!"
Once he had rightly disposed of the little twerps, Barbarossa set about putting his shop back in order.
{[(/*\)]}
"Caterina!" Prosper called into the apartment. He had been held up at work and he knew that Caterina had a doctor's appointment, which they were about to be late for.
"I'm here, Prop!" came Caterina's voice.
Prosper rushed over to her. "I'm so sorry I'm late, Caterina. I got stopped because—"
Caterina waved her hand in dismissal. "Oh, don't worry. Let's just go, before we're even later than we are."
"Alright," Prosper agreed, helping her up. "Let's go then."
As they walked along, hand-in-hand, Caterina brought up the question, "What should we name the baby, Prop?"
Prosper looked at her lovingly. "What would you like to name the baby?"
Caterina pondered on this for a moment. "I think…I think I would like to name the baby something fitting. Something very fitting."
"I agree. A name should be fitting to its bearer."
"Alright. To our child then. Something Very Fitting." Caterina grinned and Prosper squeezed her hand.
"How funny. Think you're clever, do you? Burdening my child with a name such as that?"
"Your child? Excuse me, but I don't see you being the one with an expanding belly, hunched over all the time and going through the excruciating pain of child birth! If we're going to be possessive here, I think it should be my child."
The two of them laughed and Prosper kissed her cheek. "You're hilarious, Hornet. My beautiful bride. Now let's come up with a proper name for our child."
"If you say so, Prosper. A proper name. I still think it should be fitting."
"Of course. What do you think he'll be like?"
"Or she."
"Okay, what do you think the baby will be like?"
Caterina thought for a second. "I don't know. I've never met our baby, so I couldn't possibly know what she's like."
"Or he."
Caterina rolled her eyes. "Yes, she or he. I don't know what the baby will be like."
"But that doesn't mean we can't brainstorm."
Suddenly, the couple saw Mosca and Riccio walking toward them. Confused, they stopped to see what was going on.
"Hey, Prop, Hornet. You'll never believe what just happened," Mosca said breathlessly.
Prosper raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Riccio grinned. "It's almost too silly to believe."
"Wait, why aren't you two at the shop?" Caterina asked.
"We're getting there. You see, I was at the register while Mosc was in the back—"
"And then Riccio called to me to get out there and he was laughing so hard I thought he might burst—"
"I was laughing because this kid, not a day over fourteen, had barged into the shop and demanded to know what had happened to his payment—"
"And then he shouted that he was Ernesto Barbarossa and pretty much commandeered the shop, kicking us out!"
Mosca and Riccio doubled over with laughter. For some reason, they found the idea hilarious, but Prosper turned serious.
"So you just left the shop in the hands of a teenager?"
Riccio and Mosca froze, realizing their stupidity.
"Uh-oh…"
{[(/*\)]}
Meanwhile, Scipio had run over to the shop to tell the boys about the merry-go-round. He had just burst into the shop, shouting, "The merry-go-round works!"
And this, of course, had caught the attention of a certain mischievous fourteen-year-old who was poking around his shop.
"Merry-go-round, did you say? You can't possibly mean the very contraption that doomed me to this wretched form, can you?"
Scipio froze upon seeing him. "Who…who are you?"
But Barbarossa immediately recognized Scipio. "You! You're a Massimo! The blasted offspring of the Dottore! Thief Lord!"
Scipio slapped his forehead and groaned. "Why is it that everyone's calling me that nowadays?"
AN: Review?