“I dunno. I guess someone showed it to him. So what?”
For some reason, this seems to get Nunzio even more upset.
“Guido,” he sez, clenchin’ his teeth, “sometimes I wonder if all those knocks on the head you’ve taken have … oops! He’s coming back. Quick … Bee?”
“Yes, Nunzio?” our junior magician sez, blinkin’ with surprise at havin’ been suddenly included in our discussion.
“Get your Dis-spell ready, and when I give you the nod … throw it on the proprietor.”
“The proprietor? Why?”
“Bee … just do it. Okay?” I interrupts, havin’ learned from experience that the only thing that takes longer than listenin’ to one of Nunzio’s lectures is tryin’ to pry a straight answer out of him when he’s tryin’ to let you discover the point yourself.
Bee starts to say somethin’, then shuts his mouth, shrugs, startin’ to mumble and mutter like he does when he’s gettin’ ready to use magik.
The others at the table look at Nunzio expectantlike, but he just leans back in his chair lookin’ confident and smug. I, of course, imitate his action, though I have no more idea what he is about to pull than the rest of the crew. You see, past experience has taught me that one of the best times to act confident is when youse is totally in the dark … but would just as soon no one else is aware of your ignorance.
“Are you still here?” the proprietor demands, materializin’ beside our table again. “I don’t want to have to tell you again! Now get out before I call the cops!”
“I don’t think so,” Nunzio sez, starin’ at the ceilin’.