Jay, Harry, and Stromboli's son carelessly sauntered into Gaston's tavern, their keen eyes on the lookout for mischief. Seeing the old proprietor in a dark corner, playing poker with the Coachman and Percival McLeach, the three boys ambled over to take a look.
"The bar is open, boys," Gaston said, irritably waving them off without taking his eyes off his hand, "Go knock down a few shots if you want, but stay away from our game."
"Why?" Stromboli's son asked, reaching for the Coachman's pack of cigars.
"Because we say so, youngun," McLeach growled, picking the hefty teenager up by the throat, "Now get!"
Gaston stroked his chin with an amused smirk as the boy squirmed and kicked the air. With a harsh laugh, he repeated, "Get up to the bar and get yourselves some drinks—or just get. Your choice."
"Well, I'm up for a drink," Jay said with a cavalier shrug, secretly scanning the room for things to steal for his dad's store. Jabbing his thumb in Lefou's direction, he continued, "He has our drinks so let's ride, boys."
"Are you kidding?" Stromboli's son gasped, incredulously rubbing his neck after McLeach tossed him to the floor.
"Uma would love to have a few of these," Harry purred, pulling a pile of coins towards the edge of the table with his hook.
"You really want to do that?" Gaston growled; slowly coming to his feet and, without warming, slamming the pirate's head into the table.
Jay couldn't help but to crack up as Harry dizzily stumbled backwards, "As you see, he's got biceps to spare!"
"Not a bit of me is scraggly or scrawny!" Gaston bellowed, flecking his other arm.
"Even though you're losing all your hair!" Stromboli's voice sang out like a bell until the old proprietor's iron fist landed squarely in his gut.
Quickly realizing that their stay was over, Jay grabbed a spare pack of playing cards and bolted for the door.
"Hey, you little thief!" the Coachman snarled, his fat puffy hands just missing the boy's leather jacket as he stumbled through the door. Regained his footing on the run, Jay tore off down the street, leaving his companions to deal with the aftermath. He didn't slow down until he plowed into the crowd that was just emerging from a show at Stromboli's Theater.
"What's going on here?" he murmured, sensing a great opportunity to pickpocket; rubbing his hands together, he hoped that maybe this time he could earn his father's pleasure.
"Attention everyone!" Stromboli suddenly appeared, waving both hands, "I must ask you all to come back inside. As you all know, the Beast," he continued venomously, "requires us to listen to his speech tonight."
"Then why doesn't he come here to give it?" someone screamed, eliciting a chorus of evil cackles and angry howls as the crowd began shuffling back inside. Joining them, Jay found an empty seat in a dark shadowy corner and crossed his arms with a scowl.
"This better be good," he muttered, deeply disappointed.
"Merry Christmas, everyone," the Beast's voice boomed through the television set,, "Tonight, as we celebrate the birth of the One who brings rest to weary souls let us, in this land of magic, peace, and prosperity, not forget to store up for ourselves a treasure that can never be stolen or lose its value."
Jay's ears perked up. What was this treasure and how could he get it?
**oo**
Finishing a big smile, Jay added, "That was the first time that I'd ever heard about a treasure that couldn't be stole or lose its value and, I'll admit, It made a big impression on me. I'm glad that I've had the opportunity to learn more about it."