Chapter 6: Sheep in Wolf's Clothing
The next morning, Jen rose early, washed and changed into different clothes. He brushed then pulled his wavy blond hair into a ponytail to change his appearance in any way possible. He pulled his steel-toed boots out of his bag and pulled them on.
He put his revolver in his boot. He took his knife from the scabbard of his sword then strapped it to his arm to make it accessible with a flick of the wrist. Feeling safer, he left everything else at the inn. He rode thru the city examining the local shops, food shops, clothing shops and even a magic shop. There were homes with garbage on the curbs. He missed the country with its trees and branches, farms.
It turned out Weihnachtliche Einkaufsstrasse was a large street and that number 370 was an abandoned office building.
He snuck in easily. On the third floor Jen walked down the hall then he overheard someone speaking. He slowed down and then mentally readied himself to fight. There was a door near the end of the hall. Jen snuck up to the door then slowly peeked around it. Four thugs were sitting on boxes holding weaponry very wary, like they wanted to pick a fight.
A black haired man paced around the room. He carried a an old style glock 9 millimeter at his belt. He was rather short -- he was as tall at Jens shoulder -- not to say he was weak.
One of them had a pad of paper drawing with a pencil. He showed it to one of the other men asked, "Yo, Mark! What do you think?" The man with the black hair murmured then came over to look at it--then crumpled it up he then threw it into the hall. The thug took a weapon out of his belt, but Mark was faster. They aimed their guns at each other, not blinking--staring each other down. The rest of the thugs just watched.
Jen picked up the paper then stepped across the doorway. The artist-thug lowered his gun then sat down, crossing his arms and muttering under his breath.
Mark began pacing back and forth, as he checked his watch.
"Represa do deus isto!"
"Where is he? Tim should have been here by now!" snapped one of the thugs. "Our correspondent gave him the directions
and time the " do deus da represa parte traseira do verde tarde!"
!
when is he going to get here!"
Jen snuck past the door, but the boards creaked under his feet. A thug heard the creak and went to investigate as Jen quickly stepped into a room he looked around the room to find some were to hide. The thug walked over and started to open the doors of the rooms, one by one. Jen regretted picking this room to go into-because there was nowhere to hide. Jen new that this is the oldest trick in the book. He hid behind the door. Jen was not a skinny kid but that was his best chance. The door opened barely touching his chest as Jen quickly exhaled behind the opening door. The guy looked around Jen fingered the knife up his sleeve loosing it.
"It's nothing, just rats I expect." as The thug he shut the door Jen sighed in relief his hart pounded he looked for a crack in the wall to the other room. He quickly found one and he sat down as silently as possible spying on them through the crack.
He did not wait in vain. Tim walked in with what looked like a battle robot plus four guys with an array of weapons at their belts. Behind him, two of them were carrying a black case. "You're late." The man with the black hair said rather angrily
"Well, that's one way to get us on the defensive up front--saying that were late" said Tim. "Downright hurtful that is."
Mark's eyes narrowed to slits.
"Tim, let me be short." Jen saw a glimmer of a smile glace over Tims face. then vanished "Well I will let you be that way," said Tim with the smile coming back.
"Tim. You know that I can get my meds right from the source…I don't have to go through you, Tim."
Tim smiled impishly. "Mark, as one middleman to another, a word of advice: sixty percent of all med sellers are middlemen and all smugglers are -- as a rule we don't like to be excluded . Mark began to talk but Tim went on but, "Don't worry, I understand…I'm a nice guy. So, I'll overlook your rudeness. You just remember the next time you do this, it won't be so pleasant," said Tim.
"Um…thanks." Mark's face looked puzzled then the words sunk in. he started to get angry. "Did you just call me a middleman?"
"What do you think?" said Tim with no change in his face.
Mark's anger went to rage. "That isn't a smart idea, Tim."
The men behind Tim became alert as the robot stepped in front of Tim. His forearms and palms glowed with an emerald green light. There was the threatening hum of a high-impact rockmining laser. Mark looked up into the robots face then turned pale as he stepped back, deciding not to push the point. The hum subsided as the glow on palms dissipated. The robot stepped over, no longer blocking Tim.
"Man, tell me…where did you get a robot like this? I've never seen anything like it. How does it work? Where did you get this? I want one…would you sell me this robot? Just name your price. I'll buy."
A voice imitated from the robot: Voor van Ik ben niet verkoop! Im een cyber u stomme donkere kuddezoon van haired slattern Wight!
" What did he say?"
"No matter how high quality you buy, you'll never get a robot as smart as me. You know why." Marks looked confused.
"OK," Tim spoke up, “not a robot, he's a cyborg. His name's Jack."
Mark's eyebrows went up. "You're a cyberman" Mark said. "What's next, a Dalek?" "I'm a cyborg." said Jack "Well, cyborg, I…"
Jack walked over to stand staring down the glow and hum coming back. This time Jack’s optical sensors burned with a cherry red light.
The jack interrupted with menace in his voice. "My name is Jack. Jack… nothing else. If you call me robot or cyborg or ironhide or any other thing besides Jack, I will personally graaf uw hert met een saaie erfgenaamspeld uit en voed het aan een varken
, you baart humping zoon van een wijfje…"
This time, it was Tim's turn to step in front of Mark. "Jack, we don't have time for the disposal of bodies. Alright Mark, you'd better have my money -- you got my money right?"
"Yes"
"You got my goods?"
"Yes"
"Let's see the goods."
Tim opened the lid to reveal small plastic bottles of white powder. Tim picked up a bottle then threw it to Mark
"This batch should be a good one," said Tim. Mark unscrewed the top then past it over to one of his goons, who took out a scanner then tested a sample. "Eeyup, it's the stuff."
The man put one hand over his shoulder. One of the thugs brought over a case. Mark handed it over. Tim took it and passed it to the man beside him. "Jason, check it," said Tim. Jason opened the case then began counting the money. The two men turned to conversation. "So, Mark…how's business?"
Mark replied, "A little slow, but I think things will be better after they have the money for my goods" Jason called out to Tim, "The money's all here, sir. "
"Very well, you tell me when you need another shipment. See you again sometime" said Tim and his men left. Jen stayed there, waiting.
There was no way to follow Tim, so Jen thought he would get the lowdown on these men. Jen stayed in the place next to Mark's room for the next hour, watching the proceedings. Mark sold the white powder to the people who came in--a middle-aged man, multiple people, young? Old, male, female… and to his disgust, even children. Then one young female walked in. She was dressed rather scantily. Jen thought that she had an air of authority in her walk. She had the body of a dancer. She tried to trade some other meds for the goods . "Listen, Jerra I don't have any interest in those goods…but there are other things that you can trade to me –" as he looked her up and down."
Jerra started to move away as she reached into her purse. A thug hit her with the butt of his weapon she collapsed to the floor. Jen's eyes opened wide with shock then narrowed. She rolled over, trying to get to her feet but one of the men grabbed her. She spit in his face. Mark said, "What a waste. Take her out to the speeder. We'll all deal with her later."
Jen ran out of the room into the hallway. He blocked the door. The thug that grabbed her saw Jen. "What the bloody hell! "
Jen said, "Give her up. I warn you -- this is your first and last warning." The thug tossed the girl to one of the other men.
He cracked his knuckles then the thug punched. Jen easily dodged then cut his legs out. As the thug fell, Jen pulled the gun from the man's holster then shot him in the calf. He shot two other thugs in the kneecaps the last thug pulled his side arm then pointed it at Jen. He used the girl as a shield. There was no way he could shoot the man and not hit the girl besides schmollen Sie eine Gewehrkugel in seiner Kleiewanne and that would be messy and fatal. "Well," Jen thought, "The thug got some shots in."
The girl revived, thrust her leg up between his legs. She threw him over her shoulder and he landed on his back. "Well, that takes care of him."
Mark went for his gun. Jen flicked his wrist and his knife was out in an instant. Jen threw it at Mark, aiming for his shoulder. Mark went for cover lowering his body into the target area. The blade hit the corner of Mark's right eye. Mark fell to the floor clutching his face.
Jen winced. It could have been worse--it could have fully punctured the eye. Jen picked up the knife, wiped it off then back into its strap. The man was doubled over in pain. "Sorry, Mark. I was aiming for your shoulder."
He threw the gun out the window then grabbed the girl by the hand. Come on, no time to explain.” They ran down the hall, hit the stairs, hopped over the back fence. They ran into a nearby alley then ducked behind a trash can. She was rubbing the back of her head. "Don't worry you'll be fine -- just a scratch. I know that you don't know me but trust me I'm your friend…at least for now, OK? Do you have any place to stay?" She nodded her head up and down, not trusting her mouth to say anything. Well. Good. Stay. Safe. o.k.
Jen started to walk away peeking around the building. The girl ran up behind him and put her arm in his. Jen turned to look at the girl. "Could you help me home I don't know whether they will be after me."
Jen replied, "Well, I think that… "
She looked up in to his face with her sapphire blue tractor beam eyes. "Um… sir there may be more of his people out to get me I'd like some protection mister…um…"
"My name's Jen."
"Well I'm Jarra. So, Jen shall we be off?"
Jen came to himself. What did I just do that for? "Um… yes… I'll have to get some things back at the inn."
Jen started to walk with Jarra to the inn to collect his stuff, all the while wondering what had just happened.
He got his stuff, paid the bill--still wandering. This time they rode on Jen’s bike instead of walking. They rode to a small apartment building past on the out skirts of town Jen parked in an attached garage. There was a door warden by the door. The warden let Jarra and Jen pass, clearly recognizing her.
She led him up to the second floor apartment. She threw her purse down on the table then went to another room. Jen set down his pack, put his gun and knife, boots back in his pack. He removed his tie, releasing his wavy hair.
Jarra walked back in to the room. She had changed in to t-shirt and jeans. She brought with her two food packs. "Well it’s not Master Cuisine but I have these. Which would you like imitation meat pie, or pasta pesto.
Or how about this?" said Jen.
"Do you have a stove?"
"Yes I do."
"Well then, why don't I cook some food?" Jen took out of his pack a pan and the appropriate seasonings.
"What are you doing?"
"Well --you are providing the house I might as well provide the food."
"Well, I'm the host and…"
"There's a limit on how good prepackaged food can be." Jen put the pan on the stove, added wine vinegar then added some seasoning to the meat. Jen used an eating fork to tenderize it before going in the pan. Jen quickly cooked the meat just enough to get it to safety but still pink inside the middle.
Jen took the meat out of the pan and put it on two plates. Jen used what was left in the pan to make a gravy. Jen poured the gravy onto the two plates Jen handed one to Jerra then sat down on a couch. Jerra sat down kneeling on the floor. She put the plate on the coffee table then took a bite of food. She paused with the fork in her mouth. Jen watched closely smiling.
Her eyes went wide rolled up in her head her eyelids closed then fluttered slightly. She took the fork out of her mouth with an expression of absolute pleasure came over her face she slowly opened her eyes. "Ooh my God I must say you can cook. You are going to make someone very happy some day. How did you learn this? I've never actually had stoat meat like this before. Normally it’s really tough how did you learn to cook stoat meat so well?"
"I learned how to cook stoat meat because on Halloween my family hosted a party for the local town. That year the menu was giant spiders. I had to make the webs. I found that if you heat polyurethane to 225F it will be too brittle but if you heat it to 230F you'll have a right big ball of fire on your hands--sometimes literally so. I got quite good at telling temperatures without a cooking thermometer plus there’s a trick to stoat meats. Mainly it’s tough when overcooked. It's a thin line but the ratio can be widened by adding vinegar to the meat. What also helps is I like food as you can easily see by my figure."
She giggled with that. "One of the things my mom always said, ‘If you want to impress a woman then do something different. Anybody can bring someone to the theater or to a movie. But -- in this day and age there's one thing that always impresses a girl -- cook for her. It's a rare thing to have a man that cooks from scratch. I read up on the subject so my food knowledge goes back to when it was a rare gift. It all started with the invention of the microwave. Before microwaves you would get your food already pre-made from the store. Then the servants would set it out on the table then throw out the remains but microwaves revolutionized the cooking industry. It was a lot easier -- you could heat up old food -- it eliminated the food poisoning problem it gave the ability to have food fast…but even then, to have a man cook for the family was a rarity. I believe it was in the 1990’s that men were made to fend for themselves in the food department. That's why I can cook -- to impress people.
“When I was a kid,” Jen continued, “I would work at night on the farm -- while the rest of the family was asleep I had to make up food for myself. And I learned that the important thing is the spices. As a wise man said, any man can live on packaged food from here to the Second Coming as long as he has the right spices."
“Aren't you the vault of information?" Jerra said with a wry tone in her voice. After she had eaten, Jerra got up. "Jen, I will be back. Make yourself at home.” She walked to the bathroom. Jen removed a music player from his bag, stuck two wireless ear buds in his ears and rolled over to lie down on the couch.
The next morning, Jen rose early, washed and changed into different clothes. He brushed then pulled his wavy blond hair into a ponytail to change his appearance in any way possible. He pulled his steel-toed boots out of his bag and pulled them on.
He put his revolver in his boot. He took his knife from the scabbard of his sword then strapped it to his arm to make it accessible with a flick of the wrist. Feeling safer, he left everything else at the inn. He rode thru the city examining the local shops, food shops, clothing shops and even a magic shop. There were homes with garbage on the curbs. He missed the country with its trees and branches, farms.
It turned out Weihnachtliche Einkaufsstrasse was a large street and that number 370 was an abandoned office building.
He snuck in easily. On the third floor Jen walked down the hall then he overheard someone speaking. He slowed down and then mentally readied himself to fight. There was a door near the end of the hall. Jen snuck up to the door then slowly peeked around it. Four thugs were sitting on boxes holding weaponry very wary, like they wanted to pick a fight.
A black haired man paced around the room. He carried a an old style glock 9 millimeter at his belt. He was rather short -- he was as tall at Jens shoulder -- not to say he was weak.
One of them had a pad of paper drawing with a pencil. He showed it to one of the other men asked, "Yo, Mark! What do you think?" The man with the black hair murmured then came over to look at it--then crumpled it up he then threw it into the hall. The thug took a weapon out of his belt, but Mark was faster. They aimed their guns at each other, not blinking--staring each other down. The rest of the thugs just watched.
Jen picked up the paper then stepped across the doorway. The artist-thug lowered his gun then sat down, crossing his arms and muttering under his breath.
Mark began pacing back and forth, as he checked his watch.
"Represa do deus isto!"
"Where is he? Tim should have been here by now!" snapped one of the thugs. "Our correspondent gave him the directions
and time the " do deus da represa parte traseira do verde tarde!"
!
when is he going to get here!"
Jen snuck past the door, but the boards creaked under his feet. A thug heard the creak and went to investigate as Jen quickly stepped into a room he looked around the room to find some were to hide. The thug walked over and started to open the doors of the rooms, one by one. Jen regretted picking this room to go into-because there was nowhere to hide. Jen new that this is the oldest trick in the book. He hid behind the door. Jen was not a skinny kid but that was his best chance. The door opened barely touching his chest as Jen quickly exhaled behind the opening door. The guy looked around Jen fingered the knife up his sleeve loosing it.
"It's nothing, just rats I expect." as The thug he shut the door Jen sighed in relief his hart pounded he looked for a crack in the wall to the other room. He quickly found one and he sat down as silently as possible spying on them through the crack.
He did not wait in vain. Tim walked in with what looked like a battle robot plus four guys with an array of weapons at their belts. Behind him, two of them were carrying a black case. "You're late." The man with the black hair said rather angrily
"Well, that's one way to get us on the defensive up front--saying that were late" said Tim. "Downright hurtful that is."
Mark's eyes narrowed to slits.
"Tim, let me be short." Jen saw a glimmer of a smile glace over Tims face. then vanished "Well I will let you be that way," said Tim with the smile coming back.
"Tim. You know that I can get my meds right from the source…I don't have to go through you, Tim."
Tim smiled impishly. "Mark, as one middleman to another, a word of advice: sixty percent of all med sellers are middlemen and all smugglers are -- as a rule we don't like to be excluded . Mark began to talk but Tim went on but, "Don't worry, I understand…I'm a nice guy. So, I'll overlook your rudeness. You just remember the next time you do this, it won't be so pleasant," said Tim.
"Um…thanks." Mark's face looked puzzled then the words sunk in. he started to get angry. "Did you just call me a middleman?"
"What do you think?" said Tim with no change in his face.
Mark's anger went to rage. "That isn't a smart idea, Tim."
The men behind Tim became alert as the robot stepped in front of Tim. His forearms and palms glowed with an emerald green light. There was the threatening hum of a high-impact rockmining laser. Mark looked up into the robots face then turned pale as he stepped back, deciding not to push the point. The hum subsided as the glow on palms dissipated. The robot stepped over, no longer blocking Tim.
"Man, tell me…where did you get a robot like this? I've never seen anything like it. How does it work? Where did you get this? I want one…would you sell me this robot? Just name your price. I'll buy."
A voice imitated from the robot: Voor van Ik ben niet verkoop! Im een cyber u stomme donkere kuddezoon van haired slattern Wight!
" What did he say?"
"No matter how high quality you buy, you'll never get a robot as smart as me. You know why." Marks looked confused.
"OK," Tim spoke up, “not a robot, he's a cyborg. His name's Jack."
Mark's eyebrows went up. "You're a cyberman" Mark said. "What's next, a Dalek?" "I'm a cyborg." said Jack "Well, cyborg, I…"
Jack walked over to stand staring down the glow and hum coming back. This time Jack’s optical sensors burned with a cherry red light.
The jack interrupted with menace in his voice. "My name is Jack. Jack… nothing else. If you call me robot or cyborg or ironhide or any other thing besides Jack, I will personally graaf uw hert met een saaie erfgenaamspeld uit en voed het aan een varken
, you baart humping zoon van een wijfje…"
This time, it was Tim's turn to step in front of Mark. "Jack, we don't have time for the disposal of bodies. Alright Mark, you'd better have my money -- you got my money right?"
"Yes"
"You got my goods?"
"Yes"
"Let's see the goods."
Tim opened the lid to reveal small plastic bottles of white powder. Tim picked up a bottle then threw it to Mark
"This batch should be a good one," said Tim. Mark unscrewed the top then past it over to one of his goons, who took out a scanner then tested a sample. "Eeyup, it's the stuff."
The man put one hand over his shoulder. One of the thugs brought over a case. Mark handed it over. Tim took it and passed it to the man beside him. "Jason, check it," said Tim. Jason opened the case then began counting the money. The two men turned to conversation. "So, Mark…how's business?"
Mark replied, "A little slow, but I think things will be better after they have the money for my goods" Jason called out to Tim, "The money's all here, sir. "
"Very well, you tell me when you need another shipment. See you again sometime" said Tim and his men left. Jen stayed there, waiting.
There was no way to follow Tim, so Jen thought he would get the lowdown on these men. Jen stayed in the place next to Mark's room for the next hour, watching the proceedings. Mark sold the white powder to the people who came in--a middle-aged man, multiple people, young? Old, male, female… and to his disgust, even children. Then one young female walked in. She was dressed rather scantily. Jen thought that she had an air of authority in her walk. She had the body of a dancer. She tried to trade some other meds for the goods . "Listen, Jerra I don't have any interest in those goods…but there are other things that you can trade to me –" as he looked her up and down."
Jerra started to move away as she reached into her purse. A thug hit her with the butt of his weapon she collapsed to the floor. Jen's eyes opened wide with shock then narrowed. She rolled over, trying to get to her feet but one of the men grabbed her. She spit in his face. Mark said, "What a waste. Take her out to the speeder. We'll all deal with her later."
Jen ran out of the room into the hallway. He blocked the door. The thug that grabbed her saw Jen. "What the bloody hell! "
Jen said, "Give her up. I warn you -- this is your first and last warning." The thug tossed the girl to one of the other men.
He cracked his knuckles then the thug punched. Jen easily dodged then cut his legs out. As the thug fell, Jen pulled the gun from the man's holster then shot him in the calf. He shot two other thugs in the kneecaps the last thug pulled his side arm then pointed it at Jen. He used the girl as a shield. There was no way he could shoot the man and not hit the girl besides schmollen Sie eine Gewehrkugel in seiner Kleiewanne and that would be messy and fatal. "Well," Jen thought, "The thug got some shots in."
The girl revived, thrust her leg up between his legs. She threw him over her shoulder and he landed on his back. "Well, that takes care of him."
Mark went for his gun. Jen flicked his wrist and his knife was out in an instant. Jen threw it at Mark, aiming for his shoulder. Mark went for cover lowering his body into the target area. The blade hit the corner of Mark's right eye. Mark fell to the floor clutching his face.
Jen winced. It could have been worse--it could have fully punctured the eye. Jen picked up the knife, wiped it off then back into its strap. The man was doubled over in pain. "Sorry, Mark. I was aiming for your shoulder."
He threw the gun out the window then grabbed the girl by the hand. Come on, no time to explain.” They ran down the hall, hit the stairs, hopped over the back fence. They ran into a nearby alley then ducked behind a trash can. She was rubbing the back of her head. "Don't worry you'll be fine -- just a scratch. I know that you don't know me but trust me I'm your friend…at least for now, OK? Do you have any place to stay?" She nodded her head up and down, not trusting her mouth to say anything. Well. Good. Stay. Safe. o.k.
Jen started to walk away peeking around the building. The girl ran up behind him and put her arm in his. Jen turned to look at the girl. "Could you help me home I don't know whether they will be after me."
Jen replied, "Well, I think that… "
She looked up in to his face with her sapphire blue tractor beam eyes. "Um… sir there may be more of his people out to get me I'd like some protection mister…um…"
"My name's Jen."
"Well I'm Jarra. So, Jen shall we be off?"
Jen came to himself. What did I just do that for? "Um… yes… I'll have to get some things back at the inn."
Jen started to walk with Jarra to the inn to collect his stuff, all the while wondering what had just happened.
He got his stuff, paid the bill--still wandering. This time they rode on Jen’s bike instead of walking. They rode to a small apartment building past on the out skirts of town Jen parked in an attached garage. There was a door warden by the door. The warden let Jarra and Jen pass, clearly recognizing her.
She led him up to the second floor apartment. She threw her purse down on the table then went to another room. Jen set down his pack, put his gun and knife, boots back in his pack. He removed his tie, releasing his wavy hair.
Jarra walked back in to the room. She had changed in to t-shirt and jeans. She brought with her two food packs. "Well it’s not Master Cuisine but I have these. Which would you like imitation meat pie, or pasta pesto.
Or how about this?" said Jen.
"Do you have a stove?"
"Yes I do."
"Well then, why don't I cook some food?" Jen took out of his pack a pan and the appropriate seasonings.
"What are you doing?"
"Well --you are providing the house I might as well provide the food."
"Well, I'm the host and…"
"There's a limit on how good prepackaged food can be." Jen put the pan on the stove, added wine vinegar then added some seasoning to the meat. Jen used an eating fork to tenderize it before going in the pan. Jen quickly cooked the meat just enough to get it to safety but still pink inside the middle.
Jen took the meat out of the pan and put it on two plates. Jen used what was left in the pan to make a gravy. Jen poured the gravy onto the two plates Jen handed one to Jerra then sat down on a couch. Jerra sat down kneeling on the floor. She put the plate on the coffee table then took a bite of food. She paused with the fork in her mouth. Jen watched closely smiling.
Her eyes went wide rolled up in her head her eyelids closed then fluttered slightly. She took the fork out of her mouth with an expression of absolute pleasure came over her face she slowly opened her eyes. "Ooh my God I must say you can cook. You are going to make someone very happy some day. How did you learn this? I've never actually had stoat meat like this before. Normally it’s really tough how did you learn to cook stoat meat so well?"
"I learned how to cook stoat meat because on Halloween my family hosted a party for the local town. That year the menu was giant spiders. I had to make the webs. I found that if you heat polyurethane to 225F it will be too brittle but if you heat it to 230F you'll have a right big ball of fire on your hands--sometimes literally so. I got quite good at telling temperatures without a cooking thermometer plus there’s a trick to stoat meats. Mainly it’s tough when overcooked. It's a thin line but the ratio can be widened by adding vinegar to the meat. What also helps is I like food as you can easily see by my figure."
She giggled with that. "One of the things my mom always said, ‘If you want to impress a woman then do something different. Anybody can bring someone to the theater or to a movie. But -- in this day and age there's one thing that always impresses a girl -- cook for her. It's a rare thing to have a man that cooks from scratch. I read up on the subject so my food knowledge goes back to when it was a rare gift. It all started with the invention of the microwave. Before microwaves you would get your food already pre-made from the store. Then the servants would set it out on the table then throw out the remains but microwaves revolutionized the cooking industry. It was a lot easier -- you could heat up old food -- it eliminated the food poisoning problem it gave the ability to have food fast…but even then, to have a man cook for the family was a rarity. I believe it was in the 1990’s that men were made to fend for themselves in the food department. That's why I can cook -- to impress people.
“When I was a kid,” Jen continued, “I would work at night on the farm -- while the rest of the family was asleep I had to make up food for myself. And I learned that the important thing is the spices. As a wise man said, any man can live on packaged food from here to the Second Coming as long as he has the right spices."
“Aren't you the vault of information?" Jerra said with a wry tone in her voice. After she had eaten, Jerra got up. "Jen, I will be back. Make yourself at home.” She walked to the bathroom. Jen removed a music player from his bag, stuck two wireless ear buds in his ears and rolled over to lie down on the couch.
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