Contents
“It’s a travesty, Scrooge…!—” Jiminy sternly declared. The cricket diplomat fumed atop his colleague’s shoulder while Scrooge and a third loiterer sat idly by the Goods Shop stairwell.
“Green ones, orange ones, pigtails, and mo-hawks, but not one of them is cricket-size. This has got to be some type of anomaly!”
“Ha! Is that what’s got your fritters frizzled?” Scrooge replied curtly, shrewdly studying the big, frizzy wig he held, blue with red streaks.
He scratched his head musingly, “Eh, although, I’d hafta say that I do hold a quarrel with the cost…! Seven munny for a simple head rag and cotton?—Hmph. What a bad joke…”
Scrooge fitted the snug cap around his crown, and proceeded with his mild grouse; the puffy wig swayed to and fro as he went on, “I’m quite as fond of fads as the next duck, but t’think youngsters actually invest a whole seven munny, in this…a wacky hairdo?—”
“Hmph;” Jiminy snickered slightly at a thought which he cared to share, “you’re probably just upset that you’re not the one getting rich from these “Discrimination Wigs”, Scrooge.”
“Besides, I guess it’s like you always say, buddy,” Scrooge’s and Jiminy’s third party attested, “the world’s economy depends on circulation. You should look forward to that seven-munny goldmine coming back to you in the long run.”
“Ehehe,” Scrooge chuckled in confession, “looks like y’two got me. Hmph. Well I guess I can’t have all th’world’s munny, and keep it too, but who blames me for trying…? Besides, If worse comes to worst, I can always just buy out Silly Wigs altogether, but aside from that,” he crossed his arms and lectured, “I’m quite surprised at Sebrea for lying to me. She oughta have a bit more munny sense t’her…!”
Jiminy sighed, “Seriously, Scrooge—lying?”
“What? Sebrea steer you wrong, Grand Ambassador McDuck?” The clerk at the counter addressed. The little lady wore her blonde pigtails adorably, and donned both a white bonnet, and apron that draped a full, cotton-blue dress.
“Quite, Ms. Rose;” replied Ambassador McDuck sternly, “But by accident, I mind you.”
“Oh dear,” murmured his shoulder sidekick.
Scrooge continued, “How much, exactly, did this Silly Wig here,” his finger eloquently jabbed towards the blue and red puff, “atop my feathered cranium cost me?”
Rose squinted, and with a regretful tone, she attempted to answered, “We’re…selling those for five munny each—so…five munny?”
Scrooge reprimanded fervently, “Lies!”
“Scrooge!—” Jiminy protested.
Scrooge retrieved a mini-abacus from his inner coat pocket. Rose stood aghast as the agitated ambassador fiddled in front of the counter while deducing, “See here—five times this—carry the two—both you and Ms. Sebrea failed to mention in your calculations that, while in your foyer, I would have to deal with my most vile arch-nemesis…”
“Here it comes.”
“Taxation!—” He affirmed further, waving his abacus, “Y’see! It’s right here—plain as day. Do you now comprehend your dreadful error, lass?”
“Uh—” Rose snapped from stupor, “yeah...! Totally...Grand Ambassador…From now on, I’ll try to remember that ‘two can be a big deal’.”
“Indeed y’should,” Scrooge barked with resonance.
Rose winced at the reply, and could not help but to comment; though courteously, she asked bluntly, “But with all due respect, Mr. McDuck, what’s two measly munny to the richest man in the world?”
“Dhatt…” Jiminy winced, but to his solemnest relief, Scrooge only sighed and dragged himself into a vacant corner.
“Dhatt!—” bellowed a voice simultaneously, “Rose! Are ye seriously mealy-mouth’n’ th’Gran’ Ambassador too?! Leave ‘im be, an’ get back ta work…now, Mealy! I swear you n’ Scotty be the laziest…!”
Rose sighed restlessly towards the gruff clerk’s bellows, and mocked him in answering, “Yes, O’ wise manager, Bentuk. I guess I be ‘gettins back ta workings’, and ‘leavin’ peoples be’!”
Scrooge remarked, disheartened, to his shoulder accomplice, “No…I’m afraid she doesn’t comprehend, Jiminy. No one really does;” he further moped, “once again, tax has become a thorn in my benevolent side, and I can’t convey to these people my plights…I’m beginnin’ to think I’m the only soul in all the worlds who’s fluent in speaking Munny…”
Gabrianna skipped while wearing a loose simper, fondling the wad of paper bills in her coat pocket.
Honey was definitely loaded, she thought comfortably, I thought I was well off finding that pork-ass on the bus, but ‘Fairy Girl’ over there was packin’ a pretty ‘leet 1 wallet if I do say so…one would wonder why she walks around half-naked, and let loose a small, envious scowl, with those big, clueless eyes, and that little plastic flower in her hair. Ugh! Prob’ly saving up to buy cosmetics or something…floozy…
Gabrianna ceased her skip to slide by a giant of a man exiting the Goods Shop. She caught a quick glimpse of the guy—the imposing, bulky figure, with a head wide and bald, clung drearily to a large sack brimful with what Gabs assumed to be artisan tools; a toolbox jutted from the sack’s top along with a lavender, bowl-styled Silly Wig. At the sight, Gabs’ simper cracked into a small smile; she presumed that the big guy had a daughter at home waiting for the silly gimmick, that is, until the man reached into his bag and slid the piece, barely, over his round, globe-shaped head.
“Wow,” Gabrianna murmured, and then fought a snicker.
The large man turned and imposed, “You looking at something?”
Gabs chortled reluctantly, and answered, “A queer?”
The robust, wigged man trembled appalled, but gained his composition in replying, “This…is for my daughter! So what if her father wants to walk into the door of his home looking silly with a pink wig on his head to surprise his sweet, little chuckle-bunny?”
There was slight silence before Gabrianna chuckled further, “Look, whatever. I’m not judging you, queer.” She jeered on, but earnestly, “I just find it funny that a sweaty, stocked, build, fine-looking chum such as yourself would play drag with a light pink wig. I’m sorry.”
“Well,” the man affirmed proudly, “that’s what fathers do!” Confidently, he straightened the wig, and went off. Gabrianna pondered for a moment, and then entered the Goods Shop with a slight smirk and small thought, that’s an awesome dad…
ACT 3
Gabs skipped into a near barren room. Despite the slowly churning ceiling fan, the warmth of the previous comers and goers lingered about the dry shop lobby. Not much comprised the room—an outdated cash register atop the stalwart counter, the diverse array of merchandise on display via conservative shelves and splintery cupboards, and a second register behind the counter.
There were not many people at all within the stale foyer—two cashiers, a gruff greybeard and a perky pig-tailed blonde, manned the counter while a scrawny, suspendered young man with a large nose sat in a rocking chair beside the merchandise, nodding off into a hardback copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. A slightly portly gentleman reluctantly patted the back of a mopping duck in a failing attempt at consolation. A sole customer stood wait at the counter, waited on by the pig-tailed blonde.
Gabrianna jutted vibrantly towards the gruff grey man at the counter; a variety of bruises and scars adorned his tanned skin, and his coarse tresses were uneven and mangled, as if ripped at by some fervent beast. Gabrianna’s met him with a cheek-stretching grin to which the cashier’s rough face responded with no definition, barring defined, high-raised cheekbones, and life-carved scrapes.
“Bentuk,” Gabs greeted, “my illegible chummy-chum! What’s good with you, dooogg?!”
The brash Bentuk eyed Gabrianna with sharp pupils.
Gabrianna prattled on, “Well, damn dude; I’d thought you would have had more dead-asses in here for the sale.”
“It’s called the top-o-the-hour drought,” Rose intercepted while seeing her customer off; she proceeding to satirize, “I figured you’d know that by now from other stores you go to and steal from.”
Gabs lost her grin, facing Rose with a blank face and a raised brow. “Cute…like your pig-tails,” Gabrianna smirked facetiously to which Rose scoffed. Gabs turned back to the hardened manager with a hard grin.
“You ain’t nothin’ but troublin’…” Bentuk growled.
Gabrianna’s sappy expression dropped instantaneously, replaced by agape, jaw-dropped stupor. She then acquired a smart-aleck smirk, and a cocked eyebrow, and attested with swagger, “I’m only as much ‘troublin’’ as people blame me for, Gramps.”
Gabs plopped both elbows onto the counter, and leaned in wait in front of the adamant cashier. Bentuk dug a hole into Gabrianna’s face with his eyes. She stared through him in wait for what she deemed the obvious. Silence ensued.
Gabrianna’s brows narrowed and her trademark scowl revisited as she pushed her way into Bentuk’s face and blurted, “So what, you gonna eye-f*ck me all day, Bentuk?!”
“Oh, he knows why you’re here,” Rose interjected sternly, “Yeah—Bentuk has told you time and time again that you couldn’t make orders here because you were too young. So, you had some pathetic, twenty-four-year-old perv-guy come in here and make an order in your name because you were too young—”
“Yeah…” Gabs addressed in an unimpressed tone, “and now I’m seventeen, like a couple of weeks ago; old enough to make and pick up orders here at the "Goody-Good Shop”."
“The order was finished since uh, like a couple of months ago; unless noticed by the client, Bentuk usually gets rid of pick-ups that aren’t picked up within three weeks after we inform the client that his or her order is ready, ‘kay? Be happy that your order’s still available for pick-up.”
Gabs shrugged, “I didn’t have the munny then.”
Rose questioned skeptically, “Oh, you have it now then?”
“Correct; I have it now,” Gabs simpered anxiously, “give the dog a bone.”
Rose scoffed and nipped, “Oh, so now, I can at least know that right now, somewhere, someone’s reaching into their pockets and finding nothing there.”
Gabrianna expelled a cross chortle, smiled curtly, and replied softly, “f*ck you, c*nt b*tch.”
Rose’s brows rose in anger, and out of shock, she repeated, “F*ck me, c*nt b*tch?!”
The duck in the corner and his accomplices turned to behold.
“Alright! Alright!” Bentuk intervened, disgusted, “Cease that shit ‘ere and now!”
Rose scoffed at her manager’s demand.
“Dirt-faced whore,” she hissed as she passed Bentuk and Gabrianna, and proceeded to storm out.
My comeback was better, Gabs thought as she smiled, goading, and snickered.
Bentuk screamed behind him, “Scottah!!”
The scrawny young man fidgeted out of his book.
Bentuk bellowed, “Order THREE HUND’D THIRDY-SIX!”
“Three, thirty…” Scotty mouthed, “How long ago was that ordered…?”
“NOW!”
After noticing Gabrianna, Scotty snorted and retrieved a lengthy item from the floor; the item was taller than its customer. Ivory cloth wrapped around its wide end, and draped most of the item but for the end of a tan pole.
“I wonder what’s eating her…” Jiminy chirped, almost carelessly, and was heard.
Gabrianna faced the chartreuse ambassador with a horrific glance, and her cryptic address jutted tersely from her tongue, “What—the—f*ck, does a half-inch cricket hope to gain from being a nosey, whiny-*ss—”
Bentuk grunted, almost throwing the item to the mouthy girl, as if to dismiss her all at once.
“Oh, my…” Jiminy exhaled, shivering.
“Happy?—” Bentuk’s query excreted from an abhorred scowl.
Gabs unraveled her package and beheld the poled blade, finely cut mythril that bore an edged prong from the blade side.
“Hells yeah, I’m happy,” Gabs beamed in admiration as she hugged the pole and spoke softly to herself, “the Mythril Spear—plenty of *sses will be handed to their respected *ss-mongers with this baby!—” she rewrapped the spear, faced Bentuk, and waved with a cute smile, “Thankies, Bentuk… bye now;” she proceeded out with a skip, only to stop dead in her tracks to the cracking of Bentuk’s knuckles. She eased into a cheeky grin as she turned to face him.
“What’s the hurry lil’ lady?—” Bentuk sternly affirmed as the register chimed, “That’ll be two thousan’ sixy munny wit’ that discount that you waited two ana’ half months for.”
“Oh, boo,” Gabrianna taunted as she approached his counter with munny in hand.
“Prob’ly stole th’munnies ta buy this…” Bentuk grumbled.
Gabs scoffed as she proceeded out, “That’s rather ungrateful! Be happy I paid for it…!” and then noticed the older duck, the cricket, and their company eyeing her skeptically.
She addressed, in an obvious tone, “Uh, can I help you?”
‘Bang!—’ the room quivered beneath Bentuk’s fists as they slammed onto the counter.
“Uh…” Gabrianna swallowed her impending fear and addressed Jiminy with a brisk, trembling voice, “sorry, cricket dude. You’re not a nosey, whiny—”
“OUT!—” Bentuk wailed at the top of his lungs.
Gabrianna hugged her Mythril Spear once more, and with two upraised fingers, Gabs abruptly concluded, “Geeky Rebel, out!” She dashed for the exit.
1 The term ‘leet’ often refers to Leetspeak, and is derived from the word, “elite”. In this case, the term is used as an adjective, to primarily indicate an expertise, or something of top-notch rank or quality.
ACT 3
ACT 3.1, Roar! Geeky Rebel (Unabridged)
I, Flipping Wigs!
II, Oh, I'm So Rebellin'
ACT 3II, Oh, I'm So Rebellin'
“It’s a travesty, Scrooge…!—” Jiminy sternly declared. The cricket diplomat fumed atop his colleague’s shoulder while Scrooge and a third loiterer sat idly by the Goods Shop stairwell.
“Green ones, orange ones, pigtails, and mo-hawks, but not one of them is cricket-size. This has got to be some type of anomaly!”
“Ha! Is that what’s got your fritters frizzled?” Scrooge replied curtly, shrewdly studying the big, frizzy wig he held, blue with red streaks.
He scratched his head musingly, “Eh, although, I’d hafta say that I do hold a quarrel with the cost…! Seven munny for a simple head rag and cotton?—Hmph. What a bad joke…”
Scrooge fitted the snug cap around his crown, and proceeded with his mild grouse; the puffy wig swayed to and fro as he went on, “I’m quite as fond of fads as the next duck, but t’think youngsters actually invest a whole seven munny, in this…a wacky hairdo?—”
“Hmph;” Jiminy snickered slightly at a thought which he cared to share, “you’re probably just upset that you’re not the one getting rich from these “Discrimination Wigs”, Scrooge.”
“Besides, I guess it’s like you always say, buddy,” Scrooge’s and Jiminy’s third party attested, “the world’s economy depends on circulation. You should look forward to that seven-munny goldmine coming back to you in the long run.”
“Ehehe,” Scrooge chuckled in confession, “looks like y’two got me. Hmph. Well I guess I can’t have all th’world’s munny, and keep it too, but who blames me for trying…? Besides, If worse comes to worst, I can always just buy out Silly Wigs altogether, but aside from that,” he crossed his arms and lectured, “I’m quite surprised at Sebrea for lying to me. She oughta have a bit more munny sense t’her…!”
Jiminy sighed, “Seriously, Scrooge—lying?”
“What? Sebrea steer you wrong, Grand Ambassador McDuck?” The clerk at the counter addressed. The little lady wore her blonde pigtails adorably, and donned both a white bonnet, and apron that draped a full, cotton-blue dress.
“Quite, Ms. Rose;” replied Ambassador McDuck sternly, “But by accident, I mind you.”
“Oh dear,” murmured his shoulder sidekick.
Scrooge continued, “How much, exactly, did this Silly Wig here,” his finger eloquently jabbed towards the blue and red puff, “atop my feathered cranium cost me?”
Rose squinted, and with a regretful tone, she attempted to answered, “We’re…selling those for five munny each—so…five munny?”
Scrooge reprimanded fervently, “Lies!”
“Scrooge!—” Jiminy protested.
Scrooge retrieved a mini-abacus from his inner coat pocket. Rose stood aghast as the agitated ambassador fiddled in front of the counter while deducing, “See here—five times this—carry the two—both you and Ms. Sebrea failed to mention in your calculations that, while in your foyer, I would have to deal with my most vile arch-nemesis…”
“Here it comes.”
“Taxation!—” He affirmed further, waving his abacus, “Y’see! It’s right here—plain as day. Do you now comprehend your dreadful error, lass?”
“Uh—” Rose snapped from stupor, “yeah...! Totally...Grand Ambassador…From now on, I’ll try to remember that ‘two can be a big deal’.”
“Indeed y’should,” Scrooge barked with resonance.
Rose winced at the reply, and could not help but to comment; though courteously, she asked bluntly, “But with all due respect, Mr. McDuck, what’s two measly munny to the richest man in the world?”
“Dhatt…” Jiminy winced, but to his solemnest relief, Scrooge only sighed and dragged himself into a vacant corner.
“Dhatt!—” bellowed a voice simultaneously, “Rose! Are ye seriously mealy-mouth’n’ th’Gran’ Ambassador too?! Leave ‘im be, an’ get back ta work…now, Mealy! I swear you n’ Scotty be the laziest…!”
Rose sighed restlessly towards the gruff clerk’s bellows, and mocked him in answering, “Yes, O’ wise manager, Bentuk. I guess I be ‘gettins back ta workings’, and ‘leavin’ peoples be’!”
Scrooge remarked, disheartened, to his shoulder accomplice, “No…I’m afraid she doesn’t comprehend, Jiminy. No one really does;” he further moped, “once again, tax has become a thorn in my benevolent side, and I can’t convey to these people my plights…I’m beginnin’ to think I’m the only soul in all the worlds who’s fluent in speaking Munny…”
------------
Gabrianna skipped while wearing a loose simper, fondling the wad of paper bills in her coat pocket.
Honey was definitely loaded, she thought comfortably, I thought I was well off finding that pork-ass on the bus, but ‘Fairy Girl’ over there was packin’ a pretty ‘leet 1 wallet if I do say so…one would wonder why she walks around half-naked, and let loose a small, envious scowl, with those big, clueless eyes, and that little plastic flower in her hair. Ugh! Prob’ly saving up to buy cosmetics or something…floozy…
Gabrianna ceased her skip to slide by a giant of a man exiting the Goods Shop. She caught a quick glimpse of the guy—the imposing, bulky figure, with a head wide and bald, clung drearily to a large sack brimful with what Gabs assumed to be artisan tools; a toolbox jutted from the sack’s top along with a lavender, bowl-styled Silly Wig. At the sight, Gabs’ simper cracked into a small smile; she presumed that the big guy had a daughter at home waiting for the silly gimmick, that is, until the man reached into his bag and slid the piece, barely, over his round, globe-shaped head.
“Wow,” Gabrianna murmured, and then fought a snicker.
The large man turned and imposed, “You looking at something?”
Gabs chortled reluctantly, and answered, “A queer?”
The robust, wigged man trembled appalled, but gained his composition in replying, “This…is for my daughter! So what if her father wants to walk into the door of his home looking silly with a pink wig on his head to surprise his sweet, little chuckle-bunny?”
There was slight silence before Gabrianna chuckled further, “Look, whatever. I’m not judging you, queer.” She jeered on, but earnestly, “I just find it funny that a sweaty, stocked, build, fine-looking chum such as yourself would play drag with a light pink wig. I’m sorry.”
“Well,” the man affirmed proudly, “that’s what fathers do!” Confidently, he straightened the wig, and went off. Gabrianna pondered for a moment, and then entered the Goods Shop with a slight smirk and small thought, that’s an awesome dad…
ACT 3
Gabs skipped into a near barren room. Despite the slowly churning ceiling fan, the warmth of the previous comers and goers lingered about the dry shop lobby. Not much comprised the room—an outdated cash register atop the stalwart counter, the diverse array of merchandise on display via conservative shelves and splintery cupboards, and a second register behind the counter.
There were not many people at all within the stale foyer—two cashiers, a gruff greybeard and a perky pig-tailed blonde, manned the counter while a scrawny, suspendered young man with a large nose sat in a rocking chair beside the merchandise, nodding off into a hardback copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. A slightly portly gentleman reluctantly patted the back of a mopping duck in a failing attempt at consolation. A sole customer stood wait at the counter, waited on by the pig-tailed blonde.
Gabrianna jutted vibrantly towards the gruff grey man at the counter; a variety of bruises and scars adorned his tanned skin, and his coarse tresses were uneven and mangled, as if ripped at by some fervent beast. Gabrianna’s met him with a cheek-stretching grin to which the cashier’s rough face responded with no definition, barring defined, high-raised cheekbones, and life-carved scrapes.
“Bentuk,” Gabs greeted, “my illegible chummy-chum! What’s good with you, dooogg?!”
The brash Bentuk eyed Gabrianna with sharp pupils.
Gabrianna prattled on, “Well, damn dude; I’d thought you would have had more dead-asses in here for the sale.”
“It’s called the top-o-the-hour drought,” Rose intercepted while seeing her customer off; she proceeding to satirize, “I figured you’d know that by now from other stores you go to and steal from.”
Gabs lost her grin, facing Rose with a blank face and a raised brow. “Cute…like your pig-tails,” Gabrianna smirked facetiously to which Rose scoffed. Gabs turned back to the hardened manager with a hard grin.
“You ain’t nothin’ but troublin’…” Bentuk growled.
Gabrianna’s sappy expression dropped instantaneously, replaced by agape, jaw-dropped stupor. She then acquired a smart-aleck smirk, and a cocked eyebrow, and attested with swagger, “I’m only as much ‘troublin’’ as people blame me for, Gramps.”
Gabs plopped both elbows onto the counter, and leaned in wait in front of the adamant cashier. Bentuk dug a hole into Gabrianna’s face with his eyes. She stared through him in wait for what she deemed the obvious. Silence ensued.
Gabrianna’s brows narrowed and her trademark scowl revisited as she pushed her way into Bentuk’s face and blurted, “So what, you gonna eye-f*ck me all day, Bentuk?!”
“Oh, he knows why you’re here,” Rose interjected sternly, “Yeah—Bentuk has told you time and time again that you couldn’t make orders here because you were too young. So, you had some pathetic, twenty-four-year-old perv-guy come in here and make an order in your name because you were too young—”
“Yeah…” Gabs addressed in an unimpressed tone, “and now I’m seventeen, like a couple of weeks ago; old enough to make and pick up orders here at the "Goody-Good Shop”."
“The order was finished since uh, like a couple of months ago; unless noticed by the client, Bentuk usually gets rid of pick-ups that aren’t picked up within three weeks after we inform the client that his or her order is ready, ‘kay? Be happy that your order’s still available for pick-up.”
Gabs shrugged, “I didn’t have the munny then.”
Rose questioned skeptically, “Oh, you have it now then?”
“Correct; I have it now,” Gabs simpered anxiously, “give the dog a bone.”
Rose scoffed and nipped, “Oh, so now, I can at least know that right now, somewhere, someone’s reaching into their pockets and finding nothing there.”
Gabrianna expelled a cross chortle, smiled curtly, and replied softly, “f*ck you, c*nt b*tch.”
Rose’s brows rose in anger, and out of shock, she repeated, “F*ck me, c*nt b*tch?!”
The duck in the corner and his accomplices turned to behold.
“Alright! Alright!” Bentuk intervened, disgusted, “Cease that shit ‘ere and now!”
Rose scoffed at her manager’s demand.
“Dirt-faced whore,” she hissed as she passed Bentuk and Gabrianna, and proceeded to storm out.
My comeback was better, Gabs thought as she smiled, goading, and snickered.
Bentuk screamed behind him, “Scottah!!”
The scrawny young man fidgeted out of his book.
Bentuk bellowed, “Order THREE HUND’D THIRDY-SIX!”
“Three, thirty…” Scotty mouthed, “How long ago was that ordered…?”
“NOW!”
After noticing Gabrianna, Scotty snorted and retrieved a lengthy item from the floor; the item was taller than its customer. Ivory cloth wrapped around its wide end, and draped most of the item but for the end of a tan pole.
“I wonder what’s eating her…” Jiminy chirped, almost carelessly, and was heard.
Gabrianna faced the chartreuse ambassador with a horrific glance, and her cryptic address jutted tersely from her tongue, “What—the—f*ck, does a half-inch cricket hope to gain from being a nosey, whiny-*ss—”
Bentuk grunted, almost throwing the item to the mouthy girl, as if to dismiss her all at once.
“Oh, my…” Jiminy exhaled, shivering.
“Happy?—” Bentuk’s query excreted from an abhorred scowl.
Gabs unraveled her package and beheld the poled blade, finely cut mythril that bore an edged prong from the blade side.
“Hells yeah, I’m happy,” Gabs beamed in admiration as she hugged the pole and spoke softly to herself, “the Mythril Spear—plenty of *sses will be handed to their respected *ss-mongers with this baby!—” she rewrapped the spear, faced Bentuk, and waved with a cute smile, “Thankies, Bentuk… bye now;” she proceeded out with a skip, only to stop dead in her tracks to the cracking of Bentuk’s knuckles. She eased into a cheeky grin as she turned to face him.
“What’s the hurry lil’ lady?—” Bentuk sternly affirmed as the register chimed, “That’ll be two thousan’ sixy munny wit’ that discount that you waited two ana’ half months for.”
“Oh, boo,” Gabrianna taunted as she approached his counter with munny in hand.
“Prob’ly stole th’munnies ta buy this…” Bentuk grumbled.
Gabs scoffed as she proceeded out, “That’s rather ungrateful! Be happy I paid for it…!” and then noticed the older duck, the cricket, and their company eyeing her skeptically.
She addressed, in an obvious tone, “Uh, can I help you?”
‘Bang!—’ the room quivered beneath Bentuk’s fists as they slammed onto the counter.
“Uh…” Gabrianna swallowed her impending fear and addressed Jiminy with a brisk, trembling voice, “sorry, cricket dude. You’re not a nosey, whiny—”
“OUT!—” Bentuk wailed at the top of his lungs.
Gabrianna hugged her Mythril Spear once more, and with two upraised fingers, Gabs abruptly concluded, “Geeky Rebel, out!” She dashed for the exit.
1 The term ‘leet’ often refers to Leetspeak, and is derived from the word, “elite”. In this case, the term is used as an adjective, to primarily indicate an expertise, or something of top-notch rank or quality.
ACT 3
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