Mitchel Phew, Esq. was rubbing one of his eyes as Master Jabber tried to explain what had happened at the Devil’s Garden with Angelica.

  “I was just trying to show my friend that I sit next to people when I eat out.”

  “But did Angelica indicate she wanted you to sit next to her?” Mr. Phew asked.

  “Well, no,” Jabber replied. “That’s why I put a spell on her to stop her from leaving.”

  “And also silenced her?”

  “Admittedly, I might have gone a bit too far there but I didn’t want her shouting something out that might have made me look bad.”

  “Look, Mr. Jabber, at this point the details of what happened don’t really matter. Angelica and her team are no longer interested in reconciliation. They’ve completely changed their approach and want you to face some kind of punishment for your behavior. So we want to make sure that we do everything possible to prevent your reputation from being tarnished or you and your work being shunned.”

  “I can’t believe all the trouble I’ve gotten into just trying to sit next to people,” Jabber muttered, rubbing his own forehead.

  “I think what we need to focus on now is working to keep Angelica and her lawyer from going public about these accusations. You have your position at the university to worry about, that angel wings shop you’re trying to launch, as well as several recently submitted magical patents under review.” The barrister counted each of these points on his fingers. “You don’t want to jeopardize any of those by having a headline in one of the society journals come out accusing you of celestial harassment of a former secretary.”

  “Indeed. What can we do?”

  “Well, in terms of reaching a settlement with Angelica, we’re in a completely different category now,” Mr. Phew said as he pulled out a piece of notepaper and began to write on it with his quill. “They’re out for your blood but I think you will agree that no matter the cost it’s worth it to work something out with them in order to keep these unfortunate events from the public eye.” He handed the paper to Jabber.

  “Holy Missing Shit!” Jabber cried, his eyes going wide as he saw the figure his lawyer had written. “They can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, indeed they are,” Mr. Phew said, leaning back in his chair, waving the feather of his quill in the air. “But, take note, none of this money will go to Angelica. She wants you to donate all of it to a battered demons charity called Fiends and Friends.”

  Jabber rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard of that one. My buddy Rospo’s wife is involved with them.”

  “Wonderful,” the barrister continued, “because in addition to your donation, they would also like you to give a speech at a fundraiser event for said charity.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Oh, this is beyond ridiculous!” Jabber exclaimed. “What am I supposed to give a speech about? I don’t know any battered demons. I’m not even sure what a battered demon is.”

  “Be that as it may, I believe with this speech Angelica would like you to publicly show your contrition and demonstrate that you’ve learned from this experience. That you’ve grown.”

  “Ugh!” Jabber waved his hand in irritation, stood, and grabbed a bright yellow banana from a fruit bowl sitting on one of Mr. Phew’s austere shelves.

  “After this meeting, I’m going to send Angelica’s attorney, Mr. Huggins, a message saying that you’ve agreed to their settlement terms.”

  As Jabber sat down, he tried to peel his banana but struggled to open it so that he mushed the top as a crack finally split open near the stem. He slurped the banana mush before opening the skin wider and taking another bite.

  “I’m sorry, but what are you doing?” Mitchel Phew, Esq. asked, frustration creeping into his voice.

  “What does it look like? I’m eating a banana.” Jabber took another bite.

  “It looks to me like you’re not taking this situation seriously enough. I’m explaining to you the stakes of what might happen if you don’t accept Angelica’s terms and you’re nonchalantly eating a banana.”

  “What other way is there to eat a banana?”

  Annoyed, Mr. Phew exhaled loudly. “There are plenty of other ways to eat a banana. My father ate bananas with a lot of bitterness. He gave off a very bitter vibe with each bite.”

  “How can you eat bananas bitterly?” Jabber snorted. “It’s physically impossible.”

  “I’ll have you know,” the barrister insisted, his halo dimming in vexation, “that there is a whole palette of emotions available when eating a banana. I’ve seen people do it comedically, sadly, grumpily . . . an old human paramour of mine used to eat her bananas very erotically.”

  “With respect,” Jabber said, “I completely disagree,” and took another bite of his banana. The peels were lying limp over his fist like a dead starfish.

  “And anyways, that fruit isn’t for eating, they’re decorative.”

  “I’m sorry?” Jabber asked. “How do you mean?”

  “You’ve never heard of decorative fruit?”

  “Of course, but they’re supposed to be fake. You can’t use real fruit as decorations.”

  Mr. Phew sighed and adjusted his waistcoat. “All of which is beside the point. Can I just get you to take this situation seriously?”

  “Of course I’m taking this seriously!” Jabber exclaimed, bits of half-chewed banana mush on full display in his mouth as he spoke emphatically. “I’m being accused of celestial harassment, might get my name slandered, and am being forced to pay a king’s ransom to a charity that’s probably just a front to collect money for its board of directors!” Jabber stood and angrily tossed the peel into the receptacle at the foot of Mr. Phew’s desk. “There! You see, I’m taking this seriously!”

  Mr. Phew clicked his tongue in irritation as he looked down at the receptacle with a frown.

  “What is it now?!” Jabber asked, sitting back in his chair.

  “It’s merely . . . that’s not a trash can.”

  Jabber blinked in disbelief. “Then what might it be?”

  “It’s for waste paper, not trash . . . didn’t you see there wasn’t a lining on it? Now I have a half eaten mushy banana in there that will have to be cleaned out.”

  “What kind of an office is this?” Jabber asked with an incredulous half-laugh. “Your fruit isn’t for eating, your trash bin isn’t for trash, and your bathroom is not to be used! It’s very confusing.”

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