The good people of Burdock Center are not about to miss out on a free give away. soon they start dropping by and wait impatiently while Ernie scoops out garbanzo-vanilla ice creme and drops it into their outstretched Ugly Mugz.
And the Weenerman is next. He pours murky green pop so generously that it foams and comes over the sides.
My job ends up being to keep Ernie and the WeenerMan supplied while they destroy the eveidence, er, uhm, hand out the bonus-rewards for the purchasers of the Ugly Mugz.
Turns out that many cost-conscious residents of Burdack Center don’t want to pass up the free hand-out. and so show up with Mugs that we are fairly sure were not purchased from us.
But wisely, the Weenerman goes ahead and fills their mugs for them. No sense calling attention to our little cover-up, er-uhm, marketing promotion then underway.
I am kept busier going back and forth to the Burdock Pizziary and Fine Dining for reinforcements to our supply of garbanzo-vanilla ice creme and murky green pop.
Finally after what seems all afternoon, the last resident of Burdock bearing a Mug is Quaffed, and we’re done.
We all sit down somewhat taken back by the experience, but releived that the cover-up, er, promotional event has been completed.
The Weenerman is counting the money out, “Four-hundred thirty-three dallars and seventy-eight cents,” he grins, “Looks like we did pretty good.”
“Yeah, we didn’t lose as much as we usually do on our get-rich-quick schemes,”Ernie commets with great accuracey.
Ernie speaks up, ‘Hey who’s that coming out of the Burdock Pizzia?”
“It’s Pyrene and Twisty,’ Hm says matter of factly, “Coming to get their cut.”
At that, Ernie grabs the Cigar Box and goes running out the back of the village square. “What was that about?” Pyrene asks.
“Long story,” the Weenerman grins mystreriously.
“No time for digressions,” Pyrene says quickly.
“Yeah, and we don’t have time for any of silly your run-on stories either,’ Twistene backs her cousin.
“Well then here,” the Weenerman pushes the till accross the table to Twistene, “It’s all there, you can count it if you want to.”
“Oh I won’t bother with that,” Twistene blows away a strand of stray hair.
The Weenerman looks my way, “See, I’m moving up in the World, I’m not only Worthful, but now I’m becoming Trusty too.”
“You aren’t neither,” Twistene objects, “I just know where you live,” in one move she brushes the entire till into a large manilla envelope.
“I’d listen to her,” I advise the Weenerman, “She looks like she knows what she’s doing.”
“The Enteprenarialness of it all,” HM grumps. Twistene takes the haul and marches back to the pizzia shop.
Pyrene rather sidles up to the table.
“Want anything?’ Hm asks.
‘Oh just thinking how one favor desrerves another, or two,” Pyrene replies innocently enough.
“As in?” I ask brightly.
“Oh just the pizzia van needs washed and polished, and vacummed and cleaned out on the interior,” Pyrene goes on innocently enough, “Business has been good, and its been seeing a lot of use.’
“That’s a lot of work,” I comment, “good luck on finding someone to do it all.”
“Oh I was just sort of thinking how there may be individuals in this Village with a lot of times on their hands, and tend to be, um, idle,” Pyrene ventures innocently.
“Say,” the Weenerman objects, “I take my pursuit of Idleness quite seriously.”
“And,” Pyrene continues on innocently, “I suppose you are ascretained that you have given every Ugly Mug with Judge Patrick’s image on it the Treatment. Like there may not be a spare Ugly Mug stashed away in safe keeping.”
The WeenerMan looks my way, “We did get them all, didn’t we.”
I shrug, “I lost count, but it sure looked like it.”
Pyrene smiles innocently, “Can you be Sure??”
I get a bright idea, “We have the list of buyers, we can check that.”
HM furrows his brow and frowns.
“Now what?” I ask.
“The Buyers’ List was in the cigar box,” HM Weenerman explains, “The one that Ernie grabbed and ran out the back with.”
I shrug, “We’re cremed.”
Pyurene says all so innocently, “So sometime in the next couple of days, the Pizzia Van may be parked out behind the store, and there may be a garden hose and soap and polish and some cloths. Plus you may find the porta-vac and some trash bags sitting on the passenger-side seat. Now supposing that the Pizzia Van ends up sparkling clean inside and out, it is quite possible that the one Ugly Mug that is rumored to still exist, just might receive the total Murky Green Pop Float treatment.”
The Weenerman looks at Pyrene warily, “But how will we know if the Ugly Mug has got the Treatment?’
Pyrene smiles, quite innocently, “You’ll just have to trust me,” and with that she walks, quite innocently back accross the street to the Burdock Pizzia and Fine Eatery.
HM WeeenerMan wrinkles his brows, “You’re right, we got cremed.”