The early dog gets the bacon. Market stalls and rhyming calls. The Gold Key victors. Mr. Crow. Dance fight. A Gift of peaches and yogurt.

Saturday morning started out with a bang. The Good Boys showed up, the dog-headed party who had won both the Copper and the Silver Keys. The Canus climbers were outside when Sal opened the door, and they weren’t alone. They had a whole mob of people with them.

Rex Torso, the leader, who had a definitely had the look of Krasnaya shepherding dog, smiled, showing rows of sharp, white teeth. “We’ve been here since five. No way are we going to miss out on the Pork Power. We go into the tower today at noon, and if everything goes right, we’ll return with the Gold Key.” He then pushed his way in, in full armor, followed by a whole gang of Canus warriors, encumbered by equally heavy armor and any number of weapons.

One terrier guy in robes sniffed the air. “Hey, boss, it doesn’t stink like it did before. That’s a relief. Now, let’s have the bacon. I’m the spell guy. I need the Mana. You only have the Mana buffs, right, right, right?”

“Sit, Angelo,” Rex said, pointing at a table.

Another of the dog men barked. “Isn’t all the food magic? I heard all the food was magic!”

Angelo sat and shivered. “By my flea-bitten butt, it’s cold in here. That’s going to stink once winter comes. Not like stink stink, more like just stink, as in it’s gonna be real bad. This place’ll probably close in five minutes after the first rains if he don’t up his food magic game.”

Sal explained the menu, explained the nature of the Pork Power, and then Shivaun was busy cooking up a storm. Sparky had come down to light the fire, and Sal started taking orders, taking money, and dishing out his food to a packed house.

Theo came down to help, and thank goodness he was there, or things might’ve spiraled out of control. There were even people sitting outside, under the umbrellas, as the fountain burbled and splashed water, completely redone and looking so very fine. It really did change the whole plaza and made it so much more welcoming. The lights were on, dispelling all of the early morning shadows, and even the air smelled good thanks to Shivaun’s baking and the morning smells of bacon and coffee.

Two very busy hours later, Otto came bursting through the doors, carrying a crate of eggs, painted with various different colors and sparkles. “Sal! I bring pretty eggs for you to cook! And I have pretty eggs outside. Maybe we dance all day long? I have Otto, again, but he get tired. I bring whole band. We set up.”

A second later, Hamletti Hooftop walked in, dramatically, wearing a bright pink dress with a cap that had fluffy pig heads on the shoulders. “Upon this happy day I’ve come, to celebrate with you some. But then I see this dancer dumb, and wonder when he’ll start his pounding on his drum.”

Otto set the eggs down, and everyone in the restaurant could feel the tension in the air. “Hamletti! You say hurtful things to me. And we are cousins, are we not? Or we have the same ancestor, or something. You no like drum, we don’t drum.”

That surprised both Sal and the Pork Poet. There was a moment of quiet, the only sound was people shuffling in their seats. There wasn’t even the tink of silverware on plates.

Otto boomed laugher. “I kid! I drum. We dance, all day. You sell salami, no? I buy your salami! We friends today. Can we be friends today?”

Letti crossed her arms. “Today, only this day, Saturday, we put away our enmity and embrace the situation in a different way. This is what I have to say. And hello, Sal Fang, greetings to you and your successful café.” She sighed at the rhyme. “Successful diner. The diner. It is doing well. I can tell.”

The Pork Poet then hurried over, grabbed Sal’s arm, and kissed his cheek. “Your diner couldn’t be finer, and that rhyme I meant, since I’m a hopelessly addicted rhymer.”

Sal laughed. “And that is just fine with me.”

Otto looked at the pair, frowning. “Maybe you like pork girl more than egg man, but then, I not kiss you. Maybe I kiss you!”

And before Sal could stop him, Otto was kissing his cheek.

Sal could only laugh. He hooked one arm through Otto’s arm and one arm through Letti’s and led them out. Their people were already setting up stalls for selling eggs and pork products including some very delicious looking dried sausages.

Otto’s sister was there, as was Ollie, getting things ready. All of Otto’s people were in yellow jumpsuits. Some were unloading caged chickens from a cart. Otto really had gone out, or so Sal thought.

But then so had Letti. She and her Pig Hats had a gigantic floating pig balloon over her stand, which cast a shadow down on the fountain, which was nice because it emphasized the lanterns glowing there.

Sal was so surprised to see that there were another couple of booths out there around the fountain, on the far side. His best friend Fabrizio had some of his parishioners bring a table to set up bread and books on a table of his own. They were creating the Mind & Body Tables!

And he wasn’t alone.

His main dough ring connection, Madame Benyay had moved her cart of boiling oil to Champion Plaza. Yes, there was the elderly Primo woman, selling her deep-fried pastries.

Sal was glad to see her.

Lastly, the final booth, was put up by none other than Kaixo Allakarra, promoting the New Astounders, with the giant Copper Key hanging above their table. Testu Hemez and Boomboom were with her, and they were handing out copper coins, but none of them were going to have the same power as the one that Kaixo had given Sal.

Sal gazed out at the new Champion Plaza, full of people who were meandering about. Foot traffic was going to be amazing that day. Even though he’d sold out of his Bacon Buffs already, the simple fact that the Good Boys had eaten breakfast there before their noon Tower climb appointment was huge news.

Betty let out a low whistle. “Look at that, pal o’ mine. This plaza is really going to change, thanks to you, and that will mean more business. Hey, weren’t you going to do boiled bread and smoked fish? Was that a thing?”

Sal chuckled. “I had pondered such a dish, and now that I have the traffic, I can take more risks with the menu. However, I will not expand the menu beyond good sense, nor will I extend the hours more than what suits me. We have been successful, I think. We have come far.”

“Gotta be open until four, buddy. Gotta get those afternoon Tower climbers. And when there’s the eight o’clockers? Have to expand the dinner menu. Maybe some goose liver pate. Everybody love goose liver pate.”

“Not everyone, my friend.”

Kaixo raised her hand and waved.

Sal smiled at her. And waved back. She had dressed up, had gained some weight during the week. It suited her. She wore the red and yellow scarves, and her tattoos were so striking against her pale skin.

“Sal!” Theovanni wailed. “We need you!”

It was music to Sal’s ears. He turned, rushed back in, and helped Shivaun in the kitchen. If he didn’t know better, she was sweating because she was working so hard.

“Is it too much?” Sal asked.

Shivaun didn’t stop cracking eggs into a sizzling pan. She didn’t need to talk, since her words appeared on the wall behind her. People are feasting and happy, on this happiest of days. You fulfilled your oath. You dispelled your demon. You embraced the ghosts.

As if on cue, a ghostly form appeared at the top of the stairs. Tony Belly, with his round little body and little brush moustache nodded at Sal. He smiled. “My great great granddaughter likes you, Sal Fang. And my great great grandson does as well. But that accent. And the rhyming. They kill me, shmoopy. They kill me!”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Thanks, Tony, for your very timely distraction the other night. I fear Dergle would have slain me, and if I were slain, your very fine diner would have no proprietor.”

The ghost with the belly smiled. “You have to keep living, my friend. You have to keep this place open. What would Shivaun do if you didn’t?”

Shivaun’s wall then had a very uncharacteristic HA! HA! HA! Underneath the melting words there.

Then she started peeling oranges, which made them extra delicious because of how cold her fingers were. How many patrons would be shocked to know it was a specter from the underworld preparing their fruit with unwashed hands? Washing a ghost’s hands was pointless in the end because there was literally no skin to hold germs. She did rinse her hands to avoid cross-contamination between radically different flavors.

The day wore on, and the customers didn’t let up, and Sal went from frying eggs to boiling gnocchi and mixing the sauces. Theo took breaks to go out to the New Astounders booth, to spread the word about their success. That was hard, since everyone was talking about the Good Boys, wondering how they would do on the second level of the Tower. About four parties a month won the copper key, about one a week, but it was only the rare team that won the Silver Key. That happened about twice a month at best. Getting the Gold Key? It might be one team every sixty days.

Three o’clock came, then four, with no sign of the Good Boys.

There was some drumming from Otto’s people, and there was some dancing, but not as much as Sal would’ve thought. It seemed Otto was respecting Hamletti’s wishes, at least a little. That seemed like a good sign.

Sal didn’t close his restaurant, though he made sure that everyone knew this was for a special occasion only, namely to celebrate the renovation of the plaza’s fountain.

The Good Boys came back an hour later, with the Gold Key, and a whole new crowd. It was like the party started over, and as the night came, and the lanterns gleamed, Otto brought his full band out there, on a raised platform near his booth.

All day long, Sal wondered if he’d seen any sign of the other three Braggadorio families—the Butter King, the Bean Baroness, and the Viscount of Grains. They didn’t come to crash the party, and neither did the Pontra, though he knew that they all probably had sent spies.

Otto Ovum took center stage and roared, “Now, we know Sal Fang is magic in the kitchen. But maybe, he magic on the dance floor. We see who dances better. Sal Fang or my chicken, Henrietta. I put bets on chicken.”

A voice thundered across the plaza. “Mr. Otto Ovum! I will take that bet!” And then the crowd parted as Colonel Jim and the rest of Governor Ziggy’s guards came forward. They all were dressed in black sparkling outfits. Literally everything was black and sparkly, from their boots to their breastplates to their polearms. They had big feathery cloaks, like the wings of sparkly ravens.

The Governor, Craig Clifton Zigglesworth was the most raven of them all. What wasn’t black and sparkly was black and feathery. H looked like a bejeweled crow. His boots were gigantic, lifting him at least six inches off the ground.

He waved his feathery arms. “I will bet on Sal Fang against the chicken. Name any price, and I will cover it. Okay, maybe not any bet, and not with just anyone. Maybe just you and me, Otto. You and me. But let’s not get crazy., Nothing over a hundred gold. Or maybe fifty. I have full confidence in Mr. Fang, but I wouldn’t like to lose fifty gold. I just couldn’t…no…but let’s get this started! Then I will dance! The New Astounders should dance with me because I just know they’ll win the Silver Key, like the very fine Rex Torso did with his very fine Good Boys. Not just the Silver Key, but the Gold Key as well! Oh, did I mention taxes? No, I won’t talk taxes tonight. But there will be taxes. Just not tonight.”

Ziggy then sauntered up to Sal to give him a big hug. “Any word on the Gorbin or the Pontra, my very food friend?”

Sal answered in the negative. “None that I can think of. I did visit the Gorbin and spoke with the shaman.”

“The Shaman? Was he awful? I bet he was awful. I’ve heard stories.”

“The shaman was fine. She was fine. I will let you know if anything changes with her state of being fine. As for the Pontra, she was never going to finish the fountain, and I believe you knew that.”

“I told you the fountain was beyond me.”

Sal smiled. “And yet, you did provide me some assistance after all. The Gimm power supply came from your office.”

Ziggy flung up his hands. “Yes, yes, yes! My office does wonderful things. This is all very wonderful, and now, I am dying to see Sal outdance the chicken. Dying!”

Sal wasn’t sure if he was a genius or just grossly incompetent. There was such a fine line there. In the end, however, it was clear that Ziggy had risked his special relationship with the church to get the fountain working.

Sal didn’t have time to reflect on the governor.

Suddenly, it seemed like half of Tower City was watching Sal. He was in the center of the crowd facing down Henrietta the chicken, who was standing motionless, giving him the evil eye. That chicken was smart, probably magically so. Was he another Gwynar?

That wouldn’t have been all the surprising, not with the magical nature of the city.

Letti had managed to illuminate the inside of her giant pig balloon, and so there was plenty of light shining down. Sal felt everyone, including Henrietta, gazing at him. It felt rather familiar, back when he’d commanded thousands. Only this time, he wasn’t the arbiter of life and death. He was simply a business owner about to humiliate himself. “My friends, my good friends, and to all of Tower City. I would like to thank you for coming to Champion Plaza. I so appreciate you all, here, to support not just my little restaurant, but this forgotten part of the city. Let the renewal of the fountain renew us all on this day! And now, I will outdance this chicken. I have full confidence in my skills.”

He then went about trying to prove that.

Ollie was pounding on the drum, Otto was watching, and Sal was remembering his dancing lessons. He moved to the beat, kept things simple, and as he danced, he watched Henrietta jerkily move to the beat at first, but then, she swayed her neck back and forth, shuffled her feet, and then turned to shake her tail feathers. She leapt into the air, fluttered her wings, somersaulted, and then came down, and really turned on the moves.

After a while, Sal had to stop to watch Henrietta dance. There was no way he ever would’ve won against that chicken. Never in a thousand years. Finally, he lifted his voice. “I relent! I surrender! I have been bested! Henrietta has won the night!”

The governor was clapping, tears streaming down his face. “I agree, Mr. Ovum. The chicken has rare talent. Truly, I am agog and aghast. Three cheers for Henrietta!”

The crowd cheered thrice, and then the musicians started, and there was dancing for everyone.

Sal danced with Fabrizio, with Kaixo, with Letti, and with the Governor, who could’ve used some dancing lessons himself. It was awkward, without a doubt. Otto finally came in and danced with him, and Sal couldn’t remember the last time had such fun.

It was midnight when Sal finally had to call it a night. The party was in full swing, and probably wouldn’t end until that morning.

The former Dark Lord waved goodnight to the New Astounders, who were in deep conversation with the governor about something. Kaixo waved back, her face one big smile. Before he left, Sal stopped by their booths to hug both Letti and Fabrizio.

Sal entered his café to see Shivaun there, at the window, watching, with a sad smile on her face.

Words appeared on the wall. I like to see the living happy. It saddens me when they are anything but happy for they do not know how short their time is. How fragile.

Sal went over and gave her cold arm a small squeeze. Then she vanished. It had been a very long day for her. All it once, it was just him alone in the diner.

His stomach grumbled. In all the excitement, he’d forgotten to eat!

He went into the kitchen, and that’s when he saw something on the counter, next to a candle burning. On the counter, sat a peach cut into slices, on a plate, next to a little bowl of yogurt topped with a dollop of honey.

Sal froze, looked down, and remembered eating the same thing with his father growing up. Mickey loved to cook a full breakfast, but sometimes there wasn’t time, and when that was the case, he served a rich yogurt with honey and fruit.

Sal picked up a silver spoon, and not just any spoon, but one that he recognized. It was a spoon he’d had as a child.

There was only one person who would have access to that impossible spoon, and that same person had to be the same entity that had kept him fed with peaches. “Thank you, Father. Verily, you helped feed me, like you always have. I am honored that out of all the places you could have gone, and all the things you could have done, was to bring me…bring me this repast.”

Sal didn’t expect an answer, and he didn’t get one. Long ago, fifteen hundred years give or take, he’d banished his father from the world, to places distant and in-between, though the Dark Lord Mickey was still around, clearly, and he had given his son a gift.

Betty had fallen asleep in his pocket, but she was awake now. “Oh, gosh, Sal, buddy, chief, ace. Look at that. Is it really from your dad? All those peaches, from your dad. Maybe he’s still alive somewhere.”

“Maybe he is,” Sal said softly.

“Where could he be?” the mouse asked.

“He is…” Sal didn’t know, not really. “He is here. With us. Giving me peaches, and perhaps, working with my Mysterious Benefactor.”

A message appeared.

<<<>>>

Karmic Gauge increased to 100%. A lovely shade of purple. Your father forgives you for banishing him and stealing his coin. There’s some points for that, and there’s some points for the party, and there’s just some points for how far you’ve come. Good news is, you’ve hit DevStep 3 and now have three Work Points to distribute. Bad news is that your Karmic Gauge is gonna reset, so it’s gonna be dark red and flashing.

Current Karmic Gauge: 1% (Dark Red and Flashing, Flashing, Flashing.)

<<<>>>

Sal didn’t mind at all that he couldn’t lose any Karma points because living on the straight and narrow was far easier than it had been. At the same time, he was looking forward to making another trip to Bloodsoaked, but maybe he’d peruse that secret Gorbin library first, to find a list of proficiencies, or recipes, that might inform him a little more of his choices.

Good ol’ Fabrizio would most likely jump at the chance to help.

For some reason, Sal remembered something that Kaixo once said to him. Life has a way of sending people down some bad alleys. That was true, but the opposite was also true. Some of the alleys were beyond good, like the road that had taken the former Dark Lord to the Ponti’s doorstep.

Betty tugged on the pocket of Sal’s shirt. “Set me down, pal. Get me a cookie. We’ll eat together.”

And they did, sharing a midnight snack. Sal found that after the meal, it wasn’t just his stomach that was full. His heart was as well.

THE END!