NTWF Mafia II: The Idyllic Village of Wafflenet

[Avery]

For Britknee, the last few hours had happened in a blur. Upon arriving to the diner, Mony came up to her and said, "Thank you for your patience, ma'am, we apologize for the wait. One--um, diet waffle, that'll be five shinies, please. And I see you haven't finished that, would you like it to go?"

Britknee handed him the five shinies but told her that she did not want them to go. Like, after the note Courtknee had sent, she totes never wanted to eat again! She just wanted to wallow and like, cry. Then of course, Tracy-- who had never been able to tell Brit apart from Court, even though Brit was totes so much different looking, 'cos she was a size quadruple zero and had platinum blonde hair, whereas Courtknee was only a double zero (ew!) and had pale blonde hair-- tried to like, tell her that the people weren't awful, which was obviously untrue. Especially 'cos Tracy's reasoning was something about like, aliens.

And anyway, it was quickly thereafter proven that the people were so totally horrible when they gathered a mob and went and like, executed one of their frigging fellow townspeople! What the what! Britknee was so scared but somehow got pressed into the crowd of angry people, and like, she was much too scared that they'd turn on her if tried to break away, so like, she stayed with them and then like, totally had to watch as they executed someone! Oh my gosh!!!!!!

Brit like, so wanted to get out of town. As the body was cut from the gallows and stored in the freezer of Waffles, No Nets (ewww, Britknee was never eating there again), she tried to keep from like, sobbing, but was still much too nervous to retreat home. Cos like, what if they thought her leaving was super suspicious, just like the Thundy guy not being around, and killed her next!?

"Oh," she said, standing in the town square, upset and terrified and wishing she'd never left the City. "This is like. The worst day ever!"

... great, and now the Alex guy was like, challenging that chauvinist THE PYTHON guy to a duel. If the town wasn't already scary enough!! Britknee whimpered and looked around the crowd, then patted Snuggles (who was still in her purse) on the head.

"Don't worry," she whispered to him. "I'll like, make sure we don't die, Snuggles. I promise."

[Gelquie]

Julie waited patiently for the money from the tip that never came. She couldn't help but frown. She does a lot of hard work as a messenger, but she can earn quite a bit more of her income from tips. More tips means more money for her savings so that she can finally buy that guitar she's had her eye on. Or maybe another set of strings. It's been a while since she's replaced her A string for her mandolin, and she sadly doesn't have a spare. If only she had friends in town who could also play the mandolin.

Before Julie could say anything, however, she saw the look on Britknee's face as she walked away from the two of them. Julie decided not to press the issue, whatever had happened with her and the letter, but instead decided to play her tune some more. It didn't last long, however, since at this point, Don Dan Maphia came out and spoke up to the entire town.

What happened next was too fast for Julie to comprehend. In no more than a few hours, they had strung up and killed Thundy, a fellow member of the town. She didn't know Thundy well, to be honest. While she occasionally played music for him, he was always a busy man. Such was that of the farming life. But even so, she watched him die before her very eyes.

"Three people..." Julie trailed off in the middle of town square. "In one day..."

What was happening to their town? A town, normally peaceful if eccentric, suddenly turning violent over the course of a few hours. What had been a safe place to stay had been reduced to... this.

Julie looked around at the other townsfolk, including Britknee, and she paused. The town was still alive. They were still here, for now. Things could turn around for the better. But for now... This was going to be a hard hit in the town's history.

With that thought in mind, Julie let out a sigh before she set a tin can on the ground. Then she began strumming her mandolin.

"We knew these folks, we knew them well,
Some were taken, one who betrayed,
But fear remains, remove the spell
and bring back joy; let despair fade..."

Julie looks up at the body of Thundy before playing softer.

_{"If it was him... he as the Grim...
Let it all end, end here with him..."}

[Thundy]

The ghost of Thundy awoke in a place that appeared, strangely, like the arrivals hall of an airport. His neck ached like he'd been asleep in a weird angle. Glancing around he saw a row of booths, all empty for one, containing a shadowy figure that sighed and dully shouted "Next!". Thundy looked behind him, there was a man with an axe imbedded in the top of his head followed by a long line of people who appeared similarly injured.

"Hey, some of us haven't got all day." He said angrily, tapping a watch on his wrist. Thundy thought about saying something to the man, but decided against it. It was not smart to argue with a man who could take an axe to his cranium. He stepped forward to the booth.

The shadowy figure looked him up and down, sighed again, and said "Documents please."

"Where am I? What border is this?" Thundy asked, puzzled.

"Afterlife Immigration and Customs, your documents please"

"Oh?" Dead? His mind raced. Well, that explained the strange nightmares and the odd pain in his neck. Thundy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a passport. It wasn't his regular dog eared Netwaffle passport, but a different one. Opening it, he found that the photo and the name inside was a match to his own. Strange, he thought, and handed it over to the shadowy figure. The figure opened the passport and glanced at it.

"Mr. Julius N. Thunderbolt..." Thundy winced, he didn't like people using his first name "...died May 13th 2013 of hanging, seems pretty standard. Where is your entry visa?"

"My entry visa?" Thundy inquired "Since when do you need a visa to be dead?"

The shadowy figure shrugged "All entrants require a visa to enter," It pulled out a large stamp and slammed it onto the passport. It read in large red letters "APPLICATION FOR ENTRY DENIED" The figure handed the passport back to Thundy. "You'll need to secure an entry visa before you are permitted into the afterlife, you can apply at the embassy. Unfortunately there is a backlog of several centuries. Budget cuts." The figure shrugged again.

Dejected, the ghost of Thundy walked away from the booth. "Several centuries? Oh well, I guess I can go haunt some people with the spare time." And with that, he floated off to go be spooky back on Earth.

[Celestial]

Diana stayed in the diner for most of the day, avoiding the chaos, smoking and drinking the terrible coffee that they served. By the end, she had probably had enough caffiene and nicotine to kill a small animal, although she did not know exactly how much it was and frankly did not want to measure it. Measurement was not necessary in her line of work and who needed exact measurements when you had to sift through a mountain of facts to extract the ones you needed and formulate a coherent theory on top of it. Besides, coffee and cigarettes helped her think. Reminded her of her student days when she needed to pull several all-nighters to write her latest piece of coursework. It was nostalgic and not even the formality and the regulations of academia could take that away from her.

However, she could not ignore the commotion outside. Diana looked up and watched in horror, and with morbid fascination, as Thundy was hung on a gallows. She did not know Thundy well but this display of mob mentality shook the woman to her core, forcing her to look away just as the rope tightened. She remained like this for a while, unable to even read, the words on the page in front of her incomprehensible for a minute, something that scared Diana more than the murder she had just witnessed. If she could not read, her career was over. But if she did not save herself, her career would be over as well.

But suddenly, something clicked in her mind. She was right here, in the centre of events with the training and academic knowledge to properly record this extraordinary event. The mentality of a mob has been one of the great driving forces behind historical change according to some schools of thought (not hers, she specialised and believed firmly in economic and revolutionary change) and now it was unfolding before her eyes. Diana needed to observe and record this event, put it down as a primary source so that historians of the future would one day study the Wafflenet mafia lynchings and not miss a single detail. They would be able to formulate theories, write articles and monographs about the event as a stand-alone or in comparison to other similar cases, use her to cite facts and provide evidence thanks to her dilligent source-writing. Diana had a duty to the great historical academy to not turn her back on events.

As much as she hated leaving her research, she could return to it once this was all over. She still had her notes and everything that was needed to write her monograph. While it was true that history repeated itself in its general trends, this event was unique in its tiny details and as such every single detail must be preserved as such. The opinions of the common man and woman, what they had for breakfast, what they thought at that precise moment, how their thoughts were influenced, all was important in shaping an event. And of course, Diana as an outsider was an unbiased and uncritical observer who would judge the event on its own terms.

Now, some people would take these events and write a ...popular true crime book. She shuddered at the mere idea and prayed to the great muse Clio that she would forgive her for such a thought.

Right now, she had to get to work. Diana finished up her coffee and stubbed out the cigarette into the full ash tray before picking up the records and quickly taking them back to town hall. She returned to the square, careful to ignore the gallows where Thundy had been hung, took out her notebook and began to work. Diana approached Britknee, somebody who she normally would not talk to due to her being unable to stand her, but she had been part of the crowd and therefore a valuable source of historical information, even if she did not know or appreciate it.

"Excuse me...Britknee, was it? You were an eyewitness to the killing of Thundy and got swept up in the mob mentality that has overcome this town. Tell me everything that happened and do not miss out any details. This is for the historical record and it is very important," Diana asked her and began to prepare to write down every single word Britknee said. She was not happy about how little she said but of course, a historical source must be free of theory. Theory was for future historians to impart onto the past as they could see more general links and the greater context of history. But of course, without being whiggish. Whiggism was a great historical sin.

[Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff)]

The bakery was empty. The customers had long since left, apparently not caring for cupcakes that had traces of salt in them.

Fluffle's fur was caked and dried with tiny salt crystals still clinging to it, and her red eyes struggled to focus on her shaking bow.

Fluffle readjusted her spot in the tree stand. From where she was sitting, her flank was getting numb after several hours. For the thousandth time, she wondered why these things weren't designed for ponies.

After paying them three pounds of fluff, she discovered from the cows that Thundy had been executed. She tried to comfort herself with the fact that cows often give misinformootion, but the town's surrounding's confirmed what they had said. The little girl, the clamor in Waffles, No Nets, the duel about to start...

She'd noticed him when he was sad once in a while, and whenever she saw him, she'd hand him a (slightly furry) cupcake she had stowed away. Her fluff was useful for storage.

Fluffle's bow trembled as she tried to aim for a wild chicken. (Wild chickens were green)

Wait. What if it wasn't wild after all? What if it was truly innocent?

Fluffle lowered the bow. It was time to go to the cows again, but for company instead of interrogation..

[Gav]

"Well, it doesn't look as bad as I feared, so that's good." Birch said as he finished tying the bandages around the girl's foot.

He'd been working on her ankle most of the day, so whatever new hubbub there was going on in town he wasn't sure. It'd probably spread through town quickly enough. His receptionist was out of the way, so he was going to have to do this solo.

"Anyway," he said, looking over his chart. "I'd obviously advise against any strenous physical activity. I'll prescribe you some painkillers, but you'll have to do wth crutches for a week or two. Come back after that and I'll see if it'll be good enough to walk on your own." he nodded as he looked up. "Well that should be it, miss O'hara, unless you had any other questions?"

[Lizica]

Tracy returned to the Shipshape Shop. Closed the door with a soft clap. Turned the sign back over to "open."

She retreated behind the counter. Rested her chin there.

The radio was still mumbling with static.

She could hear the clock ticking in the back room.

The shop was still dusty. She should clean it sometime.

She should also get something to eat. Maybe stop in at Coffbookees or the bakery. Or even just raid her own stock of granola bars. She hadn't eaten much today, with all the crowds and folding and delivering. But she didn't really feel hungry.

...She'd been so sure.

Tracy glanced at her bag of tin foil hats. There were at least a dozen hats she hadn't delivered.

Jonathan, the town carpenter, one of her oldest friends, had gladly worn his pyramid hat. He had gladly worn his tin foil hat as he had constructed the gallows.

She had been so sure they would help.

Her plan had proved too late for Yoyti. But she hadn't been too late for Thundy. It just hadn't worked. Not at all. Not a bit.

As much as she disliked the old town detective, Tracy knew, knew for certain, that if he had been here, this wouldn't have happened. There really wasn't a silver lining after all, was there? But what if she tried to find him? Bring him back to Wafflenet to set things right? But that was useless, too: No one knew where he'd gone, and he would never listen to Tracy, of all people, if she begged him to return.

And if the aliens weren't fazed by her hats, what was left for her to do?

Tracy took off her shiny ballcap, her hair sticking to it as it was lifted, and stared at the hat, for a long time.

The radio's static gave a yelp of noise, then receded again. She adjusted the dials with no success.

With a sigh, Tracy rose from her chair and headed for the shop's back door.

She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, and then hurried back to the counter for her ballcap. It kept the sun off.

Outside, Tracy looked her homemade radio tower up and down, and she made an annoyed sound. She'd told her tenant not to climb on it. But it just hadn't worked. Not at all. Not a bit.

Tracy went back inside to get a cloth and some tools to clean and repair the antennae. It was the only thing she could do.

[icon]

Osilon looked around town, and decided that heading home would be his safest bet. There were an awful lot of people around, and he didn't want to get on anyone's bad side (or in Dove's case, worse off than he already was). Loaves of bread in tow, he headed back to the Shipshape Shop.

Huh, miss Chaetura was in the backyard doing some tinkering. Osi was always awfully glad that Tracy was considerate enough to provide a ladder up to his room, but he'd always secretly thought that structural metallurgy miiight not be her strong point. The thing didn't even have any rungs, for goodness sake; last time he climbed up it he'd had to tilt it against her chimney. It looked more like a, who knew, some sort of a radio tower or something than a ladder.

But still, she was a nice lady, and Osi liked nice. She was pleasant; she was neat. A bit of a loon, but at least a neat loon.

Ah, and here she was, he thought as he headed out the back door. Nod; grin. Grin again, scuttle to the side. Offer a slice of bread. Wave; nod again. Motion to the ladder, grin, nod, nod.

It was getting late; most birds would soon be roosting. He wanted to make sure that they were all in; they were clearly out of sorts, and the sooner they calmed down, the better.

[Robyn]

Britknee had burst into tears upon reading Julie's delivery and promptly run off back into town, leaving Dove quite confused.

"B-Britknee-chan, wait!" Dove called out. She shot Julie a scowl before chasing after her newfound friend, but after a while it was clear that she wasn't going to find Britknee anytime soon. Dove's jog slowed, and she stopped with a sigh in the middle of town square.

"Maybe she just needs some time to cool off?" she mused, "I wonder what could have made her so upset. The way she ran off...looks like I've befriended a bit of a tsundere."

Her eyes lit up at the prospect. They were the most exciting and unpredictable kind of people, those tsunderes. Hot one minute, cold the next, always a surprise.

Dove shrugged, stretched out her arms, and caught sight of the blaring pink Hello Kitty watch on her wrist. She gasped, slapping a hand to her cheek.

"Is that the time?? Ayaahh, I'm gonna be late for work!"

She began to run and abruptly stopped. "Wait, I have to do this right."

She then pulled out the piece of toast she always kept in her purse in emergencies like this, popped it in her mouth, and finally dashed off as if she were late for anime school.

* * * *

With the day's tragedies fresh in the air, the Sarsparilla Armadillo was quieter than usual. Dove was in the back preparing for the night shift. Her dressing room lights glared around her mirror, where she could see herself tugging up her black stockings and snapping them into their garters. With that done, she ruffled her skirt down into position, adjusted her crimson corset, and straightened the rose in her hair, nestling the red petals into her golden locks.

Satisfied, she placed her hands on her hips. "Showtime."

Some people would not care to work Dove's job, she knew. Some might have even called it exploitative. But she was getting money to cosplay while basically still in cosplay, and she just couldn't see the downside there.

The first few hours of work were slow, but around 10 PM, a gruff-looking bunch of men came in, all shouting self-congratulatory nothings at each other as they took their seats around the bar.

"One round of root beers, on me!" shouted the biggest of them all. Dove flashed him her winning smile and turned to retrieve the order while the men continued to talk. She could hear them over the soft hiss of the tap.

"Well, it wasn't easy, but I think we've done justice here today. Those two killings just made me so sick. To take another human life...to snuff out something so precious and fragile, well, it's just unforgivable! So it's a good thing we all killed Thundy."

There was a sound of glass breaking, and all the men stopped and glanced over at Dove, who was clutching a glass handle and now standing in a puddle of sarsparilla.

"Sorry," she said, cheeks white, "Don't worry, guys, just- just a slip of the hand. Sorry."

They shrugged and went back to their conversation as Dove bent down to wipe up the spill. They'd killed him? Thundy, of all people? This was bad news. Vigilante justice couldn't lead to much, unless you were Batman or something (Dove was rather a fan of the animated series).

She bit her lip as the men laughed raucously behind her.

[Chao]

Somehow they had made it to the doctor’s practice without any further accidents for which Kay O was most thankful. And the doc obviously knew his craft, for even though it took a while to set the ankle and bandage it up, he had been careful and had kept the pain bearable. So luckily no fainting spell or other such embarrassing nonsense.

"Anyway, I'd obviously advise against any strenuous physical activity. I'll prescribe you some painkillers, but you'll have to do with crutches for a week or two. Come back after that and I'll see if it'll be good enough to walk on your own. Well that should be it, Miss O'Hara, unless you had any other questions?"

“Only one: Do you have any spare crutches you could lend me? Crutches are not something I keep stocked at the pharmacy, unlike the painkillers”, she tried to joke. All she really longed to do now was to go home and snuggle up in her bed, preferably with a nice pizza while watching TV and forgetting this day. Even if the thought of mounting all those steps to her apartment above the pharmacy was a little daunting. But Kay was not one to give up easily, she’d manage those steps.

[Ginz ❤]

After coming out of Penny's coffee shop and finding out about yet another murder, Ginz was dismayed. She could understand the salesman could have gotten on the bad side of a few people, but what had Yoyti ever done to anyone? She turned to look at her husband, but he seemed lost in thought. Suddenly, Dan left her side and strode forward.

"Citizens of Wafflenet!" he shouted from the center of the town square. "This is the bloodiest day in our town's history! Two people have been killed; we can't allow them to take any more! We need one thing, and one thing only: we need a plan of action! Who's with me?"

What was Dan doing? For as long as Ginz had known him, he had always been the kind to try and go unnoticed. What he had just done was unprecedented, however, she was glad for it. He was right, it was about time something was done.

"I'm with you!" said Tracy brightly. "I have a plan, too! These murders are being caused by alien brain interference, so if everyone wears these hats, the murders will stop."

Tracy had started handing out tinfoil hats. Ginz politely accepted the one handed to her, shaped like an Erlenmeyer flask. "I'm with you too!" She put on the hat and decisively went to stand next to Dan. "I'm always with you," she added, quietly enough so that only he could hear her.

Dan's words had clearly resonated with the townspeople, for a lot of others started expressing agreement, but what came afterwards was something neither of them had expected. Accusations were flung, most of them unfounded, but getting louder and louder in the heat of the moment, until finally, someone pointed out Thundy's absence.

And so came another murder, this time by the hands of the townspeople. All Mr. and Mrs. Maphia could do was watch, frozen in place, eyes open wide in shock, hands locked. Ginz was certain that whatever plan of action Dan had in mind he didn't mean for it to get to that. That had gone too far, but there was no stopping it. To stand on the way of the mob would have meant being killed as well.

Ginz had had too much for a day. All she wanted was to go back to the safety of her home and her vegetable patch. She did so, but as soon as she got there, she noticed something was off. There were inexplicable crop circles in her farm. Weird. Right then, the wind picked up for a moment and blew away the hat Tracy had given her. Ginz picked it up and stared at it, considering it for a moment. 

Could it be?
No, she was being ridiculous.
The day's happenings really must have gotten to her.

[Avery]

"Excuse me...Britknee, was it? You were an eyewitness to the killing of Thundy and got swept up in the mob mentality that has overcome this town. Tell me everything that happened and do not miss out any details. This is for the historical record and it is very important."

One second Brit was just like, standing there, and the next that snooty Diana lady was lobbing questions at her. Brit blinked back her tears and gave Snuggles another pat on the head. Like, of all the people, why was Diana asking her? Like, did Diana think that she, Brit, had been the one leading the charge? Cos Brit totally hadn't been! Brit wasn't a callous executioner like the rest of these stupid townspeople! She sniffled as she realised that like, she was totes being lumped in as part of the mob even though she'd only like, been part of the mob by default, really. So totes unfair!

Still, she figured if she like, ignored the Diana lady, that might look way suspicious, so like, Britknee figured it was best to say something. Except like, what? How could she describe the madness, the violence, the like... crazy people?

"Well," she finally squeaked after taking a minute to gather her like, thoughts. "Like, I was just... it was just... everyone was all 'Oooh, you're like, the killer!' and then that person would be like 'Oh no I'm not!' and then another person would be like 'That's an awfully like, killer like thing to say!' and then everyone was all angry and like I thought I was gonna die. And Snuggles too!" She sniffled. "But then like, someone was all 'Thundy did it!' so we went to his house, and he was totes confused by us, but they killed him anyway. Like, isn't that awful?"

Just thinking about it again made the tears start to gush from Britknee's eyes. Up until now, she'd managed to keep down the half-waffle she'd eaten at like, the diner, and also the cupcake the horise had force-fed her. But as she thought about the way Thundy had hanged-- how his body had swung, neck snapped, like a pendulum-- like, she couldn't help it: she gagged, and then she like, totes threw up her diet waffle and the cupcake all over Diana's shoes.

[Alyssa]

Penny moved slowly over to Waffles, No Nets, anger and confusion bubbling up in her as she walked.
This day was making about as much since as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. (Everyone who's anyone knows that pickle butter and seared scallops are the best sandwich ingredients.)

One murder had been hard to take. Her head was still reeling over seeing the salesman dead in the street.
And later she'd learned that the mafia had taken out another of the citizens of WaffleNet.

To top it all off, her own fellow townspeople had taken it upon themselves to kill a completely innocent person.
Just when they should have banded together to support each other through the first two killings, they decided to do the opposite?
She wanted justice against the Mafia as much as the next person, she really did.
But wasn't killing people just stooping as low as their enemies?

Penny was understandably upset, but she tried to shake the poisonous thoughts out of her head.
She couldn't let her anger get the best of her again, not after... no. She wasn't going to think about that now.

She sighed and arrived at the restaurant just in time to see her brother being forcibly removed from the premises.
What had he done NOW?
He was obnoxious at best, but he must have done something very irritating to merit being forcibly removed.
She loved her family and somewhat tolerated Marvin, but today was just too much.
Despite her previous attempt to calm down, she marched right up to him and socked him square in the arm.

Unfortunately, she had virtually no upper body strength, so her hardest punch was to him probably equivalent to being assaulted by a slightly annoying insect.
Her anger gave way to a feeling of despair. She didn't even have anything to say to him anymore, but after all that had happened today, she could not stand for any more of his shenanigans...

...so she abruptly lay down on the ground.

Maurice, who was still hanging out on her shoulders, hissed in surprise and gave Penny a disapproving bite on the nose.
She sighed and sat up enough to feed him some crickets from the carrier she still carried, stroking his head as he ate.
Being around her dear kitty always calmed her down some, so she was able to sit fully up and think clearly.

She looked around her and noticed that the woman who owned the dairy farm was talking somewhat frantically and did not appear to be feeling well at all.

'Britknee,' Penny thought. 'I think her name is Britknee.'
She felt sorry for the lady and thought maybe a glass of water would make her feel better.
Pushing herself up off the ground, she entered the restaurant and spied a half full pitcher of water.

"I'm taking this," she announced to the nearest waiter, and grabbed the pitcher and an empty glass and walked back out of the door.

Penny exited the restaurant just as Britknee threw up.
She approached her cautiously, poured a glass of water, and offered it to the woman.

"Here." said with growing concern. "I've got you some water, maybe it will calm your stomach."

[Dan]

This was not what he had intended.

Don Dan sat in the diner nursing a cup of coffee, blankly staring into the mug as if it told the future. He glanced at the waffle-shaped clock on the far wall--twelve minutes to midnight. This day from hell was nearly at a close, but that didn't really give him any comfort. Not after the events of the past few hours that he had inadvertently set into motion.

He was just trying to be a calming force. To settle people's jangled nerves. He thought the townspeople could figure out a plan of action to investigate the murders themselves in the wake of the detective's sudden and unexpected disappearance a few days prior. But it wasn't what the townsfolk wanted, apparently. They didn't want a calm, collected approach to sniff out the culprits of the twin crimes. They wanted someone to hang.

He had tried to fight the fast-flying accusations, had tried to restore some sense into the crowd. But no one was listening, and before he could try more firmly to regain their attentions, Ginz grabbed hold of his arm tightly with a fearful plea to stay out of it. She was right, of course; there was nothing more to do be done, nothing that could keep the crowd from hunting down their presumed cuplrit. Don Dan took Ginz's hand in his own and they held firm, staying put as the crowd around them rushed to the farm on the edge of town.

Once the crowd had gone, the clasped hands broke apart. Ginz, exceedingly pale, had told him she needed to go home. He nodded feebly, but when she stopped a few feet away and looked back at him expectantly, he shook his head.

"I can't go home yet. I need some time alone to think. I'll see you at home."

She pursed her lips, turning back towards the path that would take her home. He instead made for the diner, which thankfully had stayed open despite many of its patrons and staff rushing out to join the mob. He told the young fry cook behind the counter to bring him a coffee, and took the booth farthest from the door. Where he would hopefully be alone for a while--though he suspected that in this diner, someone would accost him soon enough. Yes, there had been boundaries before; people left each other well enough alone, but the murders this morning seemed to have snapped something in the collective sanity of the people of this town.

So Thundy had been killed, he thought. It was suspicious that he was completely on his own all day, Don Dan had to admit. Those sorts of claims are impossible to prove, it was true. Maybe the townsfolk were right that Thundy had been a part of the crimes. But there was a process to uphold, a code of rules and regulations, a way to handle these sorts of things. Hadn't anyone here heard of a fair trial? Innocent until proven guilty? It was a possibility that Thundy had committed those murders, sure, but it was also just as plausible he was telling the truth. And now they would never know.

But no matter. It was too late for that now. The only thing to be done now was to hope for the future, to hope that the mob had, in its own sickening way, been right in their actions. That Thundy was indeed the murderer. And that the events of the day would cease to repeat themselves.

But something told him that wasn't quite going to be the case. He looked down into his mug of coffee once more. If it indeed told the future, the coming days were sure to be nothing but a murky, muddy mess. He glanced up at the kid behind the counter.

"More coffee, please."

[Tiger]

Mick had made six bowls of waffle mix. Most were too lumpy; he hadn't folded the egg whites into the batter properly. He'd been afraid the waffle-iron wouldn't last through all that batter, but that didn't turn out to be a problem - most of the comfort Mick would have gotten from making waffles was in the decoration, and his hands were shaking too badly to even get a decent dollop of whipped cream over the first plate. He'd put them in bags and tucked the bags among the melting ice cream tubs. The ice chest was full of the dead, after all.

The humming of the chest, now clearly audible without the distraction of sizzling waffle-iron and clinking of tin whipped cream canisters, drove Mick out of the kitchen. He noticed THE PYTHON had made himself scarce...so had most everyone, in fact. Mick went at the counters and tables with a rag. As long as he was thinking about the stains and the shine, he didn't have to think about the mob...the gallows...Thundy...

Mick had returned with Yoyti's body just in time to see the execution. Holding a dead body and seeing a man die...if one more thing went wrong in this town, Mick felt like he would just shatter apart like a broken glass plate.

"More coffee, please."

Mick glanced up at Don Dan; he'd been in here a while. Mick just nodded and went to the kitchen for the coffee pot, taking a moment to load more coffee grounds into the machine. He wondered how much suspicion was going to fall on the Maphia and Mahb families by virtue of name alone; it was stupid, but then, the reasons for hanging Thundy hadn't been fantastic, either.

As he poured Don Dan's coffee, Mick asked, "Where's Ginz? I don't think I've ever seen you in here without her."