I do as I'm told. I don't want to get in the middle of their flying clubs. The Mister swings first, putting all his strength into it. Grinder chuckles darkly while scurrying out of its path. The Mister tries again, but the same thing happens. Now Grinder is cackling loudly. It's his turn to swing, but the Mister doesn't stay put. He starts scampering around the sanctum with Grinder chasing him and muttering under his breath.
I roll my eyes at what's going on in front of me. Neither of these fools is so fierce when there's no easy target to hit. It takes no expertise to beat up on someone who is forced to take it! If we could just fight back, we'd put these two nincompoops in their place.
"I'm going to clobber you," yells Grinder.
"You'll have to catch me first," answers the Mister gleefully.
I sit in the pew next to me. This game these two grown men are playing may take a while.
"Wait till I catch you!" Grinder yells.
"You'll never catch up to me!"
The door of the sanctum swings open and in steps High Holy Guildenstein--the Elder who is the next in command to Grinder. The men stop scurrying and look at him with embarrassment as sweat drips from them, and they try to catch their breaths.
"What's going on here?" Guildenstein murmurs in disbelief.
"We need to put Alcott in the isolation room immediately!" Grinder commands as he breathes hard.
"We can't do that and you know it!" snaps Guildenstein.
"But he went against my orders!"
"Get a hold of yourself, Enzel!"
"Yes, get a hold of yourself, Enzel," the Mister chortles.
"I'm the Highest Holy here! Not him!"
"Correction, Enzel," states Guildenstein, "he allows you to be the Highest Holy."
"That mandate is from the Great Master and not from Alcott!"
"We're getting worried about you, Enzel," comments Guildenstein. "Very worried."
"I'm the son of the Great Master. I'm--"
"Knock it off, Enzel," grunts the Mister.
"But I'm the leader around here," Grinder insists.
"No, you're not. Alcott is."
"I'm glad you came here to clear this up," remarks the Mister. "I'm getting tired of this foolish conversation. "Let's go, Monica." I follow him as he strides out the church, leaving Grinder throwing venomous darts at him with his eyes. When we hit the street, he starts chuckling.
"What an idiot," he comments, "trying to do what he wants with my property."
Property. When you truly love someone you don't treat them like something you own. I know as much as that.
"Monica, you should know that your Master is the one who owns this place! I own practically everything here--homes, stores, and etc."
So he's the one with the money. That's why he does what he wants and Smythee couldn't get away with anything.
He suddenly stops laughing. "Enzel will pay for what he did to me. He'll pay!" he snaps.
Revenge is the main currency at Paradise Village, I think to myself, sighing.
"Ill show him who really rules around here!"
Of course, that's the most important thing to you, to the other Masters, and to the Elders. Ruling. You're overstuffed egos choke on the word.
"I say what goes!"
Why is that so important? Why can't all of us live in peace and harmony instead of with abuse and slaves?
"No one here has more power than I do! As my destiny-bride, you should understand that and be proud to be mine, Little Bird!"
Are people really proud of such things? How silly.
He keeps muttering such ego-centric comments as we continue walking to his house. Rain starts splashing down. At first it's a light shower but then it comes down harder. The Mister ignores it and keeps pushing forward as he calls Grinder ugly names under his breath. By the time we arrive at the house, our footwear is muddied. I take my shoes off at the door, but the Mister barrels in without a second thought. Tracking mud all over the house, he doesn't remove them. I take a sharp breath. Betsey grins when she sees me stare at the filthy footprints. She loves that I'll have to clean every speck of them.
I start my chores by doing the floors before the mud has a chance to dry. The Mister sees what I'm doing and his face contorts in fury.
"What are you doing, Monica?" he snaps.
"Master Barstowe, I need to clean the floors before--"
"Save me your excuses! You know how I want the chores done! Do them the way I tell you to do them!"
I stop what I'm doing and head for the kitchen. Betsey gives me a sneering smile as I go past her. She's really enjoying this.
I do my chores in the sequence that the Mister demands. By the time I get to the floors, the dried mud is much harder to clean up. I'm absolutely exhausted when I leave for the slave quarters with Miguel. He had had to wait for me at least for an extra hour.
"You look tired," he comments when we're alone on the street.
"Don't ask."
"Is everything all right with Barstowe?" he asks, his tone concerned. "I had to track him down today to tell him that I couldn't walk you to his house since Grinder had made you stay in church to clean it."
"So that's how he found out," I murmur.
"I've got orders from him to tell him about any exchange that Grinder has with you. I hope I didn't cause you any problems," he asks gently.
"No, not really," I say, chuckling as I think back on two foolish men trying to smack one another.
The next day, I make it to the Barstowe house on time, without anyone forcing me to do any other chores. When I step in, my mouth drops wide open. It hadn't rained at all today but the floor is completely caked with mud.