All that fuss over residue. That was how Anthera Malabona summed up the incident in the Take It And Pay For It Shop that memorable morning.

Plazenby girls had endless credit so any damage was paid for instantly, the matter carefully managed so the publicity brought new custom into the shop as well.

A single seedopal had escaped the scrutiny of security at the mall, having been almost swallowed by Dolly Bloomen during the struggle. She coughed it up later, washed it and placed it on a table in the dorm for everyone to witness this curious souvenir.

"See the way light falls upon it from one side," she sighed in admiration. "Turn it just so and light falls on another side," demonstrating this extraordinary property with a delicate finger nudge.

"That is amazing," Vetta Mindal said and resumed matching socks which she was sure she had already matched but a return from the bathroom found them strangely mixed again and Meresinth Woodbine cackling in that way she did on occasion for no apparent reason.

Anthera was tempted to flick the little translucent bead out the open window where Wobbly Pigeons watched and waited with eager interest.

"No, honestly, back in Meditia these things would be called grit. Get one in your shoe and your eyes water not with greed but the simple bruised bone pain of the hobbled."

"You joke!" Meresinth ironically declared.

"I have it on good authority my benighted friend," Pirouette began, dishing out a gentle pat on the poor girl's shoulder, "seedopals are the most get it get it get it decorative nicety this side of the storm barriers. See, I am wearing a wristlet with six diamonds clustered round a single, perfect seedopal, setting off its magnificence perfectly."

"Ooh," Dolly Bloomen drooled.

"Grit," Anthera blinked. "What authority is this of whom, of that, of which you speak?" muddling her words in an attempt to sound debative.

"Miss Asterisk of course. Her little buddy Squeaker Joe swears by them and she's always buying a bundle of the best seedopals from him as soon as they hit our shores. Why, she has first refusal I'm reliably told."

"Squeaker Joe?"

"He's called that as he has this funny squeaky little voice," Vetta said, already known to be an avid grid show fan. "He pops up all the time during a show to sell these amazing things like dust blowers and itchy sponges, time saving gadgets like that."

"And I'm sure his interruption of the narrative flow of Miss Asterisk's adventures seem natural and timely," Anthera felt obliged to say.

"Mostly," and Vetta frowned a little for she had now found an odd sock.

This all seemed a matter of great curiosity to Anthera. She could not imagine ever feeling compelled to sit through an entire episode of the Missadventures of Miss Asterisk but that very evening she sat upon a great cushion with the ever obliging Vetta to watch the latest instalment of a particular story arc.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"Miss Asterisk is currently trapped in the lift of her apartment," Vetta explained where they were in the adventure, "and every time the doors magically open as if fixed it's only Squeaker Joe offering a bargain of sorts. Fascinated by this Miss Asterisk forgets she's trapped and haggles, is that the word, for a knock down purchase. You'll see the accumulation of things she's bought piling up on the floor of the lift. When the inflatable dance partner she tagged suddenly inflated at the end of the last episode I almost, um, made water," she blushed rather sweetly. "It was so funny."

"Can't wait," Anthera rubbed her hands to keep herself from freezing into unconsciousness. "Sounds like a sales pitcher's paradise. The captive customer and her overworked brain cell."

"That's the story arc title, well almost," Vetta admitted brightly as the colourful opening sequence lit up her tablet and episode eighty five burst into life with Miss Asterisk struggling to waltz in the confined space with a very strange looking balloon.

With Vetta chuckling next to her, Anthera could not help sniggering occasionally as the crazy antics of the demented woman played out on the screen. She was quite a young thing, pretty in a made up sort of way. Half her hair was purple and the other half crimson, with garish costumes to match. Wide, rolling eyes directed the viewer to each visual gag and over expressed emotions danced across her face as she rapidly improvised dialogue quite cleverly for the show was clearly unscripted, except for the Squeaker Joe interruptions.

He appeared of course. Great golden doors pinged open suddenly and this diminutive figure in a wide velvet suit and pork pie hat stood upon the threshold as Miss Asterisk fought her inflatable foe.

"Sorry to interrupt miss," he squeaked cheerily, not sorry at all, "but it seems what you need is a patented popper pin with chiseled amethyst handgrip." He grinned expectantly.

"You're a life saver, if you happen to have one," his victim duly replied, rolling her eyes before a squashy finger poked her up the nose. That warranted a guffaw from Vetta and a squint from Anthera. To give Miss Asterisk her due, she did her own stunts.

Money was exchanged, a popper produced and the dance partner was history with a bang. The great golden doors closed with a ping just as once again the trapped celebrity realised too late she was still trapped.

A few minor incidents and some enlightening monologues on endurance, hair care and gossip that somehow she had acquired while stuck in the box made up the rest of this episode, which this time ended with fist pummelling despair in direct contradiction of the advice given earlier, thereby underlining the truism even the famous have their flaws.

"Now that was interesting," Anthera admitted as a see you next time animation danced upon the screen.

"See! She's so popular because she's so funny and spontaneous," Vetta said, then sighed. "I wish I could be spontaneous sometimes."

"Wear odd socks," was Anthera's goodnight advice after thanking the girl for letting her watch the show with her. A cackle from Meresinth's bed was the last sound heard in the room before lights out.

Of course Anthera was not exaggerating when she said the show was interesting. Not very funny, certainly not very entertaining or demanding. Yet it contained a fundamental fact. If you create a problem for someone and then provide a timely solution to that problem, they are so grateful for the relief they fail to seek the source of the original problem in the first place. Until it's too late.

This was linked to yet another interesting fact. Find something useless. Buy it up cheap. Create a demand for it and sell at an inflated price.

Who was Squeaker Joe really? And who in the Malabona Concern was supplying him and those like him with pieces of waste grit so fetchingly known as seedopals? Perhaps this was one of the secrets of being popular. Create a demand for trash.

Anthera yawned, rolled over on her side and slept upon a resolution to seek out the squeaky little man and ask him a few telling questions. And during winter break to pay a visit to her father's latest mining venture.