“Speak,” Gideon said tersely.
He was still on the edge, but a few feet back from where he was only minutes ago.
“I believeallof this information is directly related to the Higher Power,” Tim said.
“Ya think?” Candy Vargo grunted with an enormous eye roll.
He ignored her rudeness and continued. “It might be a map of sorts. I think it’s time for Daisy to mind dive. I do have a few hypotheses, but guessing at this point could be fatal.”
I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was unclear if that was good or bad. “Do you have any specific questions for Tom Hanks?”
Tim tore the sheet of paper from his pad and handed it to me. I looked it over. My body began to tingle.
I glanced up at him. “Will this piece of paper stay in my pocket when I dive into Shitty Ritchie?”
Tim shrugged. “Possibly, but I’d suggest you memorize it just in case.”
“On it.”
I memorized the questions like the grade for the test I was about to take would result in life or death.
Because it might…
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Shitty Ritchie,”I said, approaching him.
He was still cowering from Candy’s reaction to his query about Fonzie Three’s member.
“Is Shitty Ritchie in trouble?” he asked, eyeing me warily.
I sighed. “No, Shitty Ritchie is not in trouble,” I promised. “However, I’m going to strongly suggest you drop the subject of Fonzie’s junk.”
“For now, or for always?” he inquired.
He was truly an idiot. A lovable one, but an idiot. “For always. While it was… umm… nice of Fonzie to make such a generous offer,” I began, searching for my words carefully. Shitty Ritchie tended to be very literal. “It’s not nice to take something that belongs to someone if you don’t really need it.”
Shitty Ritchie pulled the waistband of his tiny pants out and examined the contents inside. “What constitutesreally need?”
“Oh for fucks sakes,” Candy Vargo barked, throwing a box of toothpicks at his head. “Life or death, jackass. A big dick ain’t a life-or-death situation. You’re keeping the junk you were born with and I don’t wanna hear another dang word about it or you’re not gonna have a peen at all. We clear, shit for brains?”
Shitty Ritchie gulped. Loudly. “Shitty Ritchie is very clear. A new package is not happening. While I am sad, I understand that taking Fonzie’s junk is not friendly. Shitty Ritchie is working hard to be friends with everyone! NO PEEN FOR ME!”
“How is this real?” Gideon muttered, speaking the very words I was thinking.
We needed to move back to the topic at hand immediately. “So, Shitty Ritchie, I’m going to dive into your mind and hopefully talk with Tom Hanks.”
Shitty Ritchie’s brow wrinkled in thought. “Would it be easier if I crapped him out?”
“NO,” I yelled, before he could do it and screw everything up. “No. Letting Tom Hanks out is a really bad plan.”
“I quite agree,” Tim said, paling at the thought. “Plus, there’s the chance that Shitty Ritchie chewed more than he recalled and Tom Hanks isn’t reachable anymore.”
“He’s in there,” Shitty Ritchie announced, patting his tummy. “I feel very gassy.”
“And that means he’s in there?” I asked, grossed out by the question, but wanting the information desperately. It would suck to dive into Shitty Ritchie’s mind for no reason. I was certain that I didn’t want to see any of the little dude’s shady secrets. His real-life actions were shady enough.
“Oh yes!” the tiny guy assured me. “Tom Hanks is in there.” He tilted his head. “Will I be part of the chat too since It’s inside my body?”
