My father was across the street in one of the 19th century buildings which populate the campus of criminals known as Colorado College. I found him sitting at a desk with one of those green-shaded lamps, bookcases behind him and a sack of money on the floor. Out of curiosity I looked in the bag but it was empty.

Anyway my father left the room and I found two twenties on the desk which I quickly pocketed for myself. Downstairs there was a machine which would bling-bling out the money giving Andrew Jackson gold teeth, earrings and lots of other stuff which is appropriate for the term bling-bling. Back upstairs my father was looking around for the money like crazy and I put it on the table. He thanked me but didn't acknowledge or notice the alterations to the money.

He started telling me about some family business opportunity. At the end of his spiel he told me that this would financially crush Jaybird and maribou and it was okay because they're not family. I was shocked and he noticed that. "What? I'm your family. They're not. You owe me. You owe our family." My father got up and loomed over me while he cradled his fist in his left hand.

I verbally defended my friends which only pissed off my father. One second later I had grabbed a mason jar full of salt spheres off the desk and cracked it against his skull. He blinked at me, confused by the action. Again and again I beat the jar against his head but the jar wouldn't break and my father was unfazed by my attack.

That's when he stopped being menacing and went off the deep end. He grabbed the jar, shoved it over his fist and started charging me with the intent of killing me with his improvised weapon. I knew it would be a one hit kill and I had to get away. While running down a windowed corridor I grabbed a jar of unground pepper and threw it on the floor sending my father ass over teakettle. A minute later I knocked the wind out of myself pushing open some double doors and stumbling outside.

Spot was walking across the street towards the college and one of the city's busses was oblivious to her. Gritting my remaining teeth I staggered into the street, scooped up Spot and got blown aside in the bus's wake. Spot was weaing the little sweater that raddidge knitted for her but didn't leave for her to wear when it gets cold.