As Master Jabber locked the door of his newly leased store, he was greeted by Theodore’s voice.

“Jabber?”

The magician turned to see the silver-haired angel walking down the street from the direction of the college. He wore black-rimmed square eyeglasses, a dark walking cloak, and grey trousers.

“Afternoon!” Jabber said with false friendliness.

Theodore pointed towards the empty storefront. “What are you doing in there?”

“The store?” Jabber said. “I’ve leased it. Planning to open an angel wings shop to put Joseph out of business. It’s, you know, a shun shop.”

“A shun shop?”

“Yes, I’m calling it Jabber’s Flappers. And Joseph is banned from ever entering. Shunned!” At this, a smidgen of heat came into Jabber’s voice as he pointed in agitation at Joseph’s Angel Wings next door.

Theodore shook his head with a frown. “Look, I don’t know what a shun shop is and to be frank, I don’t really care. But I wanted to talk with you about something that’s upset me.”

“Indeed?” Jabber asked. “What’s that?”

“Someone told me that you were sitting next to Vicky at a restaurant?”

“Who told you that?”

“My mail-demon. He said he saw the two of you at the Devil’s Garden and you were having lunch sitting next to her on a banquette.”

“I don’t understand, what’s the issue exactly?”

“Why are you sitting next to the demoness I love?”

“I sit next to everyone at restaurants. It’s like sitting at a bar. Just because you’re side by side doesn’t mean anything. I sit next to Fokso, Landcaster . . . even the golem sometimes at the island in our kitchen. What’s wrong with sitting next to someone?”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Bollocks.” Theodore’s voice rose slightly in irritation. “I’ve never seen you sit next to anyone.”

“I do it all the time. It's my modus operandi if you will.”

Theodore shook his head in frustration. Then he cocked an eyebrow and pointed a firm finger of warning at the magician before turning to leave down the sidewalk.

That wasn’t the end of Jabber’s confrontation with agitated friends, however. That evening, Fokso drove his newly purchased gig over the driveway bridge that crossed the magician’s moat-cum-koi-pond. Hopping out, he pounded on Jabber’s door.

A minute later Jabber opened it in annoyance. “Stop ruining my door, Fokso! Look at it, you’re pounding it to pieces.” He touched the paint on the door in concern.

“Why are you ruining my life?”

“Ruining your life?” Jabber asked in confusion.

“That garish bust you had made for Eridian,” Fokso growled. “She placed it in the dining room and it gazes at me with those pitiless eyes, watching every bite I take. It’s completely ruined my appetite.”

“I thought she loved it.”

“She does! That’s the whole problem . . . but it’s driving me crazy. At night, in the morning, during lunch, every time I enter or leave the kitchen, her stone eyes are drilling into me with those snaky curls.”

“My apologies,” Jabber said. “I merely wanted to do something nice.”

“I told you to get her a brass spyglass!”

“I thought you loved Eridian?”

Fokso rolled his eyes in frustration. “I do, I love her dearly, but that doesn’t mean I want to see her bearing down on me every time I place a spoon in my mouth. She’s watching me, judging and disappointed. I can’t . . . I can’t stand it, you hear?!”

“Fine!” Jabber said, getting ruffled. “I’ll never buy her a present again.”

“Good!” Fokso growled. “In fact, just never buy any presents again. You’re a terrible gift giver.”

“Is that so?” Jabber said, indignant. “Then don’t come crawling to me in tears when you get nothing for your birthday or next Holy Sabbatical!”

“I won’t! Nothing is the best present you can give!”

“Is that all?!”

“No!” Fokso shoved a card into the magician’s hand “You’re invited to dinner tomorrow night! Seven sharp! So don’t be late!”

With that, Fokso jumped back into his gig, turned it around, and, snapping the reins, drove like the wind over Jabber’s bridge.