Eventually, Pinocchio grew tired of not killing, only training nonviolently in clandestiny. He gestured emphatically to Geppetto about it one day, hardwood arms and hands punctuating muzzled words. The old man watched, his eyes understanding but steadfast, as the living puppet conveyed his frustration.

Without warning, Geppetto's expression turned grim, his eyes clouding over. He scribbled a quick note on a piece of paper: "Telepaths. Ruined missions. Stolen secrets. Hoarded silver. Horrid vanity. Your parents’ dementia!"

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

The puppet’s eyes seemed to widen as his gaze locked onto the note. After quickly reading it, he nodded vehemently, his own hands moving in a silent but obviously indignant response!

The vecchio’s eyes gleamed with understanding as he wove an affirmative reply!

The two companions continued their silent conversation, their hands dancing in the air as they shared their disdain for silver and frustrating experiences with telepaths.

Eventually, Pinocchio wrote, “We need to invent a real sign language, Papà!”

Geppetto replied in the same ink, “I already invented one and have been teaching you the… DUMMY VERSION!”

Immediately, Pinocchio fell off his stool in a fit of laughter, snapping off what was left of his nose!