CLUTTERBUCKS — EPISODE 4

Jane staggers. She watches Michool make his way to the back of the store. She stares blankly through the window at Kreskin, who has resumed playing on the stool outside. 
Slowly she turns.
“What’s going on?” she asks, making her way toward the central cash. “What are you doing here, Daphne?” 
A few things catch her eye – the fur hat with the pearl frond, the little treasure chest music box, the stone turtle – but the penny doesn’t fully drop until she sees the bouquet Daphne’s been cleaning and is now hiding behind. 
“My stuff – how come my stuff is here – what the hell is going on?”
Daphne gulps, speechless. Feels like she might faint.
“Wait. You stole my things? Oh my God!”
She turns toward a display case in which a swirl of scarves luxuriously drape. She open the glass doors, grabs a handful and yes, they are hers, and Hermés.
“These are mine!” she says shaking the scarves in her fist. “I didn’t even agree to get rid of these. You just took them. Stole them. What else is here I don’t know about?” She catches a glimpse of Kreskin, who has stopped playing and is looking over his shoulder into the store. “And I see you took my son, too.”
Jane sees another of her former possessions – a crystal paperweight – and she picks it up.
“And whatever this is, it’s mine, too!” she says, winding up and pitching the paperweight at Daphne who screams, jumps, and barely escapes collision with the perfectly aimed hurtling mass. 
Avo walks in, the bells play the stabby music from Psycho, he sees what’s going on, and walks out again.
“Oh. I see. So he’s in on it too, is he? Huh. Pretty – Oh, and of course that was me calling you when I came in here. And you ignored my call. Nice touch. Very thoughtful.”
Another glance reveals the Rodin bust. “Oh, I see. You took this right out of the fish tank? It’s the one thing Matthew wanted when he left so that’s where I put it for safe-keeping and it got by him but by God you’re a little hawk-eye aren’t you? That’s pretty low. And pretty filthy, too.” 
Daphne is speechless, a rare thing. Jane’s right in front of her now, the Royal Dalton the only thing between them. 
“I knew that was real. I knew it! And the whole time you were pretending to help me. Holy shit. I can’t believe you did that. I can’t believe it.”
She suddenly smiles and pulls out her phone.
“Well you’re the one who needs help now. I’m calling the cops.”
“No. No. No. Don’t call. No. We can figure something out!”
“Such as?”
“I’ll pay you what everything’s worth. Cash. Right now. She opens the cash drawer but she gave it all to Avo for rent. “Tomorrow! I’ll pay you what everything’s worth tomorrow.”
Jane continues to dial but before she presses send, Daphne says, “Wait! I’ll give you a job! You can work here. Six hundred a week.”
“Seven fifty,” Jane smiles wickedly, phone still in hand. “Or wait. I’m thinking of some advise I got from a ‘friend’ recently. She said I should start negotiating my own terms, you know, on certain things that matter and you know what?  I think the bitch was right. And I think I’ll take her advice. So here are my terms: I am your new business partner. 50-50. Half your business is now mine. Better get the papers ready because if you don’t, I will call. Don’t think I won’t. I will call and then some. 
“This person I was telling you about, this ‘friend’? She also taught me everything she knows about social media. So I know how to tweet and snapchat and instagram and facebook and I bet I can stir up some shit about this place. Bet I could even put it out of business if I tried. I know what Yelp can do. Or undo. 
“And we’re gonna start doing things differently around here. Together. As equal partners. No more funny business. No more lying and stealing. Honestly, Daphne! I can’t believe you did that! When can you get the papers ready? No. Wait. I’ll be in to sign the papers tomorrow. If they’re not ready and done exactly as I’ve specified, I will call the cops. I will.”
“They’ll be ready,” Daphne says, her look of shock softening into something else. She can barely conceal her relief. Finally. Somebody to share the burden with.
“You’re still coming over tonight. Don’t think you can get away with breaking our contract. You have to finish what you started. I did pay you after all.”
“I’ll be there at six.”
“Good,” Jane says, walking toward the door. “We’ll decide what comes here and how much we can sell it for. But don’t expect 50-50. Don’t expect any of it. Whatever we sell of mine, including all this stuff you already stole, is mine alone. Every penny.”
“Bye June,” she hears Michool holler from deep inside the store. “See you Thursday!”
Jane staggers as she leaves, gives Kreskin a weak smile and before she carries on, she decides she better sit down for a moment, maybe grab a salad or something, so she takes a seat at one of two tables newly positioned outside of Our Salad Days, where Norma rushes over to take her order, one eye and a big smile on Kreskin.
Soon after her salad arrives, the table next to Jane’s becomes occupied. 
“Hi Avo. The usual?” Norma asks, looking around. “Times two? Graceif on her way?”
“She will come after some time. Yes, my dear. The usual times two but not before ten minutes thank you. Gracief will be here in ten minutes. In the meantime nothing. I will be making on a phone call.”
Avo is on hold for a long time before he finally gets a human to speak with. 
“I wish to book my ticket for which I already have… Avo Fares. A-v-o F-a-r-e-s. January 16, 1995...  April 16... Sanaa... S-a-n-a-a... April 16... Thursday next… Yemen. First flight of the day if you please... yes... 0627 is ideally. Please if you would repeat that and I will write it down.”
He searches for a pen and paper, catches Jane’s eye, recognizes her and smiles. Jane reaches into her purse and pulls out a recent Winners receipt, the fat Sharpie she uses to mark boxes as packing progresses, and places them on the table in front of Avo, who grabs them and starts writing. “Yes. Y-Y-Z...” He looks over his shoulder when he hears the bells, which become Leaving on a Jet Plane and he stops repeating the numbers and letters but continues to write them down as Gracief approaches.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “No. No luggage.”
He hangs up and shoves his phone and the paper into his pocket, puts the pen on Jane’s table, and stands as Gracief slips behind Jane and into her chair. He remains standing while Norma fills their table with food, covering the very big black numbers and letters that seeped through the receipt and are now on the white table.
“Thank you, Norma.” Avo says, nudging Gracief’s arm.
“Thank you, Normal,” Gracief says softly.

Daphne brings Salisbury steak from MeetMeat, has a quick dinner with Harriet before she puts The Best of The Carol Burnett Show DVD on and leaves. On her way to Halliday Hills she makes a quick stop at the lawyer’s – to whom she promised the Hermes scarves for her quick work – and when haughty Jane answers the door, Daphne hands her the envelope.
“Everything is here, just like you said.”
Daphne looks around the porch which is more crowded than it was the last time.
“But I think we should get to work first. We’ll stop at 9:30 and go over these. We’ll need your son to witness and I’ll take them back to the lawyer in the morning.”
“Not by yourself you won’t. I’ll come with,” Jane says.
“No. Tomorrow is your morning to open. I’ve drawn up a schedule. We’ll go over it later. You can go to the lawyer on your own, any time. I’ll give you her card.”
Daphne fishes in her purse, pulls out a Joke Postcard she forgot to mail, hands it to Jane but snaps it back when she realizes her mistake, fishes further and hands Jane the proper card: Jennifer Justice, Law-her.
Jane rolls her eyes, “Is she legit?”
”As legit as they come,” Daphne says. “Which I know is not much of a testa–” 
Suddenly, raisins fall between them and they both look down, the ice is cracked if not broken, and Daphne walks in. 
Her well-trained eye blips on something on the cardboard box coffee table as her gaze spreads around the room. Is it possible that the house is in worse shape now? She notices the single surviving fish who is clearly having difficulty keeping himself righted.
Daphne hands Jane a sheet of red dots, and a sheet of yellow, squints at Jane’s forehead and says, “You had a reaction to the glue, huh?”
“I’m still mad at you.” Jane says.
“I know.”
“Livid.”
“I know.”
“Let’s get on with it though.”
“Yes,” says Daphne. “We have to get on with it.”
“Doesn’t mean we have to be friends. Or even like each other. We can get on with it without being friends.”
They work in silence for a while, both of them miserable. Daphne watches Jane hesitate before placing a red dot on the blue glass jug that Daphne spotted on the coffee table earlier. Jane tried to peels the dot off, pauses, and looks over at Daphne.
“I saw something similar on Antiques Roadshow and it went for a bundle. I think. Either that or it was worthless. What do you think? And you better be straight with me.”
She hands over the jug which catches the light for a moment.
Daphne gropes in her bag for her magnifying glass. “That’s corronated glass. Couple of hundred I’d say, for the right buyer that is. If it had the stopper, it would double. But –”
“Stopper’s here somewhere,” Jane sweeps her hand under the couch.
“Here!” Jane says triumphantly, handing it to Daphne. 
But it’s too large. 
“Funny,” Daphne says. “It’s the right everything except size.”
“Oh! Look!” Jane says, pulling the matching stopper for one and the matching jug for the other out from under the couch.
“Now how much?”
“Well. I think for the pair you’re talking around eight hundred. I’d price it at a thousand.”
“Maybe there’s more!” 
Jane reaches under the couch for a final swoop, screeches, and when she pulls her hand out, either Rig or Mortis has etched five lines down the side of her wrist.
“Little shits,” she says.
The single remaining fish rolls over and rises to the top as Daphne watches. She goes to the tank and nudges him, he rights himself, shudders, and gives it another go. Daphne notices a twinkle coming from the corner of the tank. Gold?
“I’ve gotta get rid of those cats by the weekend,” Jane yells from the kitchen, “no good having an open house with them around. At first I thought they were the felons, feline felons, but of course it was you, but they may be kidnappers. Haven’t seen Kreskin in days.”
Daphne laughs.
“Hey,” Jane says rushing into the living room. “They can be store cats! We can take them to the STORE.”
“No!” Daphne says. “Jane. Listen. I’m sorry for what I did, but –”
“You’re sorry you got caught you mean.”
“Yes. Well. Obviously. It was unfortunate. But I’ve agreed to your terms and we’ll be 50-50 partners which means we both have a say in everything. But we can’t have the cats and you can’t have this attitude. Yes, I was wrong but it’s over, you’re joining me, things are going to change, and if you want to know the truth I couldn’t be happier. The store could really use someone like you. You have great taste, you’re cheerful in spite of all this–” she pauses and gestures around the room, “–and that–” she points to a family portrait which Matthew has been gouged from, “–and everything else you’re going through.”
Daphne glances at the fish tank, walks over and nudges the fish again. 
“Got any fish food? This guy’s in trouble.”
“We had some until those little shits got hold of it,” she says pointing to Rig and Mortis playing dead in the corner.
Jane goes into the kitchen and returns a second later with a spice jar, shakes a few flakes into the tank, then reads the label.
“Italian seasoning,” she says. “Ciao, baby.”
Rig and Mortis, still playing dead, open one eye each and share a that one’ll be delicious! glance.
They work together, not unpleasantly, until 9:30 when they start going over the papers –  which involves a bit of bitching and switching – but they eventually come to an agreement on everything except the cats.
“Listen,” Daphne says. “The landlord’s not so easy. You’ll see what I mean. No cats. He’s dying for a reason to throw us out and renovate. And then we won’t be able to afford the rent. He’s been trying for years. We have to tread carefully. Trust me.”
“Oh,” Jane says. “Well. I don’t. But I get that. They are little stinkers. Too bad they have so many Goddamn lives.”  
Jane’s salary is disappointingly small – maybe she should have gone with Daphne’s first offer and simply been an employee – but it’s the same as Daphne’s, and at the end of the month they split the profits, if any, after expenses.   
“Call Kreskin,” Daphne says.
Jane doesn’t get off the couch. What the hell. No point in hiding anything. So she puts her fingers to her temples casually and waits for the basement door to open. 
“Hmm. That’s funny,” she says. “I thought he was home. He’s been so quiet lately.”
She walks to the basement door and knocks. No answer. She calls. No answer. She opens the door and calls again. No answer. She turns on the light switch. No light.
“Daphne,” she hollers. “Come with me. I’m not going alone. Grab the flashlight from the kitchen table and come.”
There are three flashlights on the kitchen table. Daphne tries them one after the other but none work. She spots a lightsaber sticking out of a box labelled “toys”, a red dot covering the “o”, and tries it. It works, but only when swooshed.
They have a silent you-go-first no-you-go-first battle at the top of the stairs, and finally descend, side by side, Daphne swashbuckling.
The basement is completely empty. They creep to Kreskin’s bedroom door, and knock. Nothing. Jane turns the doorknob and pushes. The door opens slightly. Daphne pokes the saber in and shakes it vertically, illuminating the room enough to show that it’s completely empty. Rig and Mortis suddenly screech past them and both Jane and Daphne scream and tumble into the echo-y room, the cats rolling with laughter.
“Hmmmm,” Jane says, “guess we need another witness.”
She ushers Daphne out, closes the door behind them, and we hear two thumps – the cats running into the closed door – which Jane ignores.
“Maybe Hilda. You remember. Across the street. From the garage sale.”
Daphne grabs her coat and bag, she’ll be leaving after this, and they cross the street.
While they are waiting for someone to answer the door, Daphne looks over at Jane’s house. 
“You should get a landscaper or something, you know, fix the yard up a bit. It will help with the sale. And get some lights. Prospective buyers always drive by at night so they can get a feel for the safety of the neighbourhood. Best to have the place nicely lit. Get Avo to help. He’s brilliant with timers and lights and anything electronic.”
When the door opens, Hilda is standing there in tears.
“What’s wrong?” Jane asks. 
“I’ve lost something,” Hilda ushers them inside and closes the door. “I wonder if you remember seeing it at the garage sale. I don’t remember it being out there but it was Karley who got the stuff ready and she might have put it out without me knowing. A little brooch. Small but a real treasure. It was my Grandmother’s. And she got it in New York, at Tiffany’s – in 1870 – on the day they opened their store in Manhatten. Mr. Tiffany himself, well, the younger Mr. Tiffany that is, sold it to her. I have all the papers and everything, including a dated and signed receipt, but stupid me I didn’t put the brooch back with the papers after I wore it to the Legion for St. Patricks. Just left it in the bathroom, and Karley must have put it out for sale.”
Daphne very slowly closes her coat, we see a twinkle before she does up all the buttons.
“Did you ask Karley?” Jane asked.
“She can’t remember it specifically although she does remember taking a number of things from the bathroom and putting them out there. She got a little carried away,” Hilda says, pointing to her crazy hair. “Took the hair dryer, too.”
“And my shaver,” Clive’s muffled voice comes out from behind a bushy beard he has not yet learned to navigate. “Don’t know what she was thinking.”
“But as you can see, we’ve still got all this stuff!” Hilda leads Jane and Daphne into the very tastefully appointed living room. “We want to downsize. We want to move into those new condos on Kingston Road. They’ll be ready in six months, look, we got a flyer, and it says you can buy now and get the best choice. We want one that looks over the lake and I suppose everyone else wants that too, so we gotta get going. We want to get rid of all this stuff and start fresh,” Clive utters something illegible from the kitchen, “but what on earth do we do with all this stuff? Karley doesn’t want any of it. She’s a minimalist,” Hilda whispers, “You know the type.”
Daphne, practically choking on missed opportunity, smiles weakly. She can’t stop herself nodding from one item to the next, adding the value up in her head.
“Do you know anyone,” Hilda addresses Jane, “who could help?”
“Well now, let me think.” Jane’s going to enjoy this. “I used to know someone. Hmmmm. Let’s think if I can – Oh. I just remembered. She died.”
“Oh goodness,” Hilda says.
”And a horrible death it was.” Jane leans over and whispers to Daphne, “Complications due to broken promises.” 
“But maybe there’s someone else,” Jane is aware that Daphne is squirming. “Let me think about that one, Hilda. So important that you get someone you trust. I didn’t even know you were thinking of moving.”
“Oh, James didn’t tell you? He’s been over helping Clive with the violins almost every day. Clive tells me James has a way with those instruments, that his touch is golden and his restorations as professional as Clive has ever seen. Thought he would have told you.”
“Never mentioned it.”
Again, a muffled sentence comes from the kitchen. The single word Daphne is able to detect? Stradivarius. Her knees buckle.
“Even since he’s moved out of your place, he still comes over. Such a good boy.”
“Oh, he sure is,” Jane forces herself to say. “Anyway, Hilda. I’ll see if I can find someone to help you,”
Jane is not sure Daphne is breathing.
“I might know someone. Things is, dear, you have to be sure they’re legit if you catch my drift. Some of those people are unconscionable. They’ll rip you off and steal you blind and not bat an eye. But leave it to me. I will do my best. Certainly, I know a wonderful mover who can help you when you’re ready.”
Hilda signs the documents without knowing or caring what she’s signing and Jane and Daphne are quickly – too quickly for Daphne’s liking – on their way.
“I promise I won’t rip her off,” is the first thing Daphne says when they’re out of the house and out of ear-shot. “Honestly, Jane, I don’t need to. I’ll get her the best deals possible and together we can make a small fortune even doing it legit. Or a big one if we don’t.
She pauses, regains her compusure, and apologizes, “Sorry. That just came out.”
“They have been my neighbours for 35 years,” Jane says. “Kreskin and Karley have been best friends all their lives. I want the best for them.”
“I am the best.”
“Daphne, I believe you. I really do. But I just don’t trust you.”
“Fair.”
“You’re going to have to earn it.”
“That’s fair, too. Well, now that we’re partners you’ll find out how hard this business is,” Daphne says as they approach her car. “Here. These are your keys. Thursday tomorrow and you’re opening. Go ahead and give Avo a call. I’ll text you his number. You might as well get used to dealing with him. Heart of gold, that one. You’ve got Greybird’s number, right? But call Avo first. Greybird’s eye isn’t always so great and it’s better if the good stuff is gone before he comes. And although he’s an honest man, I think he sometimes considers red-dotted items a donation, you know, to the better world he’s building.”
“Yes. I heard him mention that. Didn’t ask. Anyway. Good night, Daphne. We got a lot done tonight. Thank you. But I’m still mad.”
Jane can’t sleep. She’s so excited. She can’t believe she’s actually part-owner of Clutterbucks of all places. And  Kreskin is gone – she wonders briefly if he might be living with Matthew – and the house, it seems, will be ready for the weekend showings. 
They emptied the garage last night.
“Everything’s junk,” Jane said to Greybird as she yanked the big door open revealing a smelly, toppled and unsightly collection of very poorly taxidermied animals. 
“Your husband?” Greybird asked knocking his index finger against his temple and inadvertently revealing the tin-foil beneath his toque, “was he okay in the head?” 

In the morning, Jane gets ready for the gym as usual. When she leaves the house, the sun is just rising, there’s a nice little layer of pink on top of all the houses, and she starts walking.
Before she gets out of her driveway, the door of 86 opens wide and Hilda rushes out.
“Jane,” she says, breathless. “I’ve been waiting for you. You’ll never guess. Found the brooch. Or actually it found me. We were watching TV last night and there was a knock at the door. Normally we’d be nervous, you know, things being what they are these days, but we figured it was you – you’d only just gone – so Clive answered right away. Nobody was there but a bag was hanging the railing, and you’ll never guess what was inside. Well. It was the brooch. Just right there in the bag all by itself. Who would have thought?
“We looked around, Clive hollered something but all we saw was a little car zipping up the street. Who would have thought?”
“Who would have thought indeed,” Jane says. “You know Hilda?  I might have just the person to help you out after all. I’ll speak with her today and let you know.”
Jane is wearing her jeans and runners and a sweat shirt and she just keeps walking and thinking and before she knows it she’s at Clutterbucks rather than the gym. She’s in the back parking lot and has to shimmy past Avo’s poorly parked van in the alleyway.
She hears snoring and picks up the pace a bit, thinking it’s wild animals. Just before she turns the corner to Kingston Road, she thinks she hears the store bells, but turns out it’s “Normal,”  the waitress from Our Salad Days. Perfect. She didn’t know it was open so early. She’ll go over for coffee once she gets settled.
She takes a moment at the front door to appreciate that she is opening a new chapter, puts the keys in the lock and pushes the door open to the gaggle of bells this time forming into the tune A Change is Gonna Come.
“Forget something, Norma?” 
The voice comes from the middle of the store and Kreskin, who still has a red dot on the back of his pyjamas, turns and Jane has her answer.
“Hi mom,” he smiles and continues to the basement door like it’s any other day. “I’m just gonna go back to sleep for a bit. Big day today. Publisher’s picking up the manuscript.”
Jane turns on the lights, bewildered yet again. Such a strange week it’s been! But, she’s glad Kreskin’s not staying at Matthew’s at least.
She wanders around. Touches a few things. Tries out a couple of chairs. Pulls a drawer or two open. Tries on a hat. Makes faces in a mirror. Turns the radio on to Aretha Franklin singing A Change is Gonna Come. Hmmm. Strange.
“You’re not wrong, Aretha,” she says and she presses a button which starts the Funny Business podcast.

… gone through the entries and narrowed it down to the top five. And today, we’re going to announce the winner. For those of you just joining us, I’m talking about the Joke Writing Contest. We’ll be contacting the winner on air in just a few minutes –”

“I totally could have won that,” Jane says aloud. “Totally.”
She notices a couple of people walking by with brown paper bags and coffee from next door, so she grabs her keys and locks up and does the same, seeing everything in a new light, especially Normal who she knows spent the night in the Clutterbucks basement with Kreskin.
She brings breakfast back to the store and sits on the stool at centre cash. She spies a laptop under the folded newspaper, picks it up, places it on the table in front of her, and opens it. But a password is required and she closes it, just as Kreskin yells from beneath her, “Harriet all lower case”, and she’s in.
The browser is open at a paused video. Looks like Daphne. She presses play. It is Daphne. On stage. The Toastmasters logo behind her.

About This Morning,” she starts.
I practically broke into a run on my way home from the gym this morning – but I didn’t – because it might have looked even worse.
Let me tell you what happened.
So I couldn’t find the keys – I can never find the keys – to drive to the gym and I looked all over the place and finally resigned myself to not going but then I though how stupid is that. I mean I can just walk. It’s exercise. So that’s exactly what I did. Threw my shoes and my water bottle in a bag and pulled on my boots and off I went feeling very powerful, you know, super on top of things. It was still dark though – I’m up ridiculously early – and it was slightly creepy through the schoolyard. It was a couple of shades lighter on my way home, of course, but still. Super early. You guys were all still in bed like normal humans.
Anyway. It’s Friday. Garbage day in our neighbourhood and all kinds of sleepyheads were rolling their bins down their driveways and there I was and I suddenly thought of an old joke.

 Q: What does a Scarborough girl do first thing in the morning? 

 A: Go home

And then it dawned on me, if you will, and suddenly I knew exactly how things looked, you know, there I was, in Scarborough, you know, stumbling down the street.
First you gotta understand I am not one of those people - if they even exist - who dress up for the gym or even dress for the gym if you know what I mean. Usually it’s just me and Mike there so early anyway and he doesn’t give a shit either. In fact we kinda try to out do one another to see who doesn’t give a shit more. I win every time although I do give him credit for those track pants. Hey Mike, the 80s called, They’d like you to remove their logo and any other identifying tags.
My hair barely resembles hair that time of the day. It’s an accidental beehive. I have dragon breath, wicked thoughts, and sometimes it might even look like I slept in my clothes, and for good reason, too.
So anyway. There I was. Walking home at dawn. Flushed. Sweaty. Squinty. Dirty. Stinky. Slept-in clothing. A rat in my hair the size of a rat.  
And a bag over my shoulder which contained my shoes and my water bottle, you know, legit gym stuff, but looked like it was full of yesterday.
I mean I saw the funny side all right, but I was alone in that vision as I often am, and as I walked down my very populated street, I endured the cross-humiliation of my actual appearance and also how things must have looked to my, at this point, concerned, neighbours. 
And protesting seemed futile, you know, so I just smiled and pretended I’d enjoyed myself.

Jane can’t believe it. She doesn’t know what to feel first – there’s a whole lineup of emotions vying for centre stage –  but pride wins and she is delighted.
She plays it again, giggling. Daphne does her material justice.
Watching it for the fifth time, it occurs to Jane that once again, she’s been had.
As this discovery dawns on her, the gaggle of bells – which turns into Ed McMahon saying Heeeeeere’s Daphne – interrupts the show and produces a very surprised Daphne, caught red-handed for the second time. 
What to say except, “Whaddya think?”
But before Jane can answer, Daphne’s phone rings.
“This is Daphne. Oh. Really? That’s amazing! Which one? Oh my God that was the first one I sent. That’s the winner? Well! Yes. Okay. Yes. It’s yes daphne yes at gmail dot com. Thank you! Ok. Same address. Yes.” Her phone suddenly cheers which means money has been deposited into her bank account. “Yes. It’s here already. Five hundred? You said a thousand, right?” another cheer. “Ah yes, a thousand. Thanks a million. That’s absolutely wonderful. Oh. And how long will the interview be? Oh. I thought it was only a few minutes. Oh. I see. Ok. I’ll wait for your email. Thank you.”
“Listen,” she says to Jane soon as she hangs up. “We’re in this together now. How about you get 50-50 of my comedy career, too. I just won a thousand dollars. Half’s yours if you agree. You can be my writer. I just won a joke competition – pinch me I can’t believe it – and I’ll be a guest, live, on the Funny Business podcast in one week – that’s next Thursday – and I’ll need some material. Holy cow. I need help. I don’t know if I can do this – ”
At that moment, the gaggle is heard – the bells turn into Money – and they both turn to face a woman in a suit.
She approaches Daphne and says, “Are you Jane Theadore Swift.”
Daphne shakes her head.
The woman turns to Jane.
“Are you Jane Theodore Swift.”
“Yes.”
“The woman reaches under her jacket and pulls out a manilla envelope which she hands to Jane.
“You’ve been served,” the woman says, and walks out.
“Oh fuck,” Jane says. “Matthew warned me. He said this would happen. He can’t get the whole house, can he?
“Theodore?” Daphne says.
“Bastard!” Kreskin’s voices comes through the floor.
“Kreskin?” Daphne says.