It is a rare occurrence that a Punchinello has nothing to do. Sometimes they create labour for themselves to the point that they impede themselves on the pretence of 'business.' This is more commonly known by the plebeians as 'bureaucracy;' it normally goes hand in hand with efficient filing. Dominic was not in many ways normal and paper work will not be an issue in this novella.

It is very boring reading about a person with nothing to do; this is the primary reason authors seldom write about it. They do not understand its intricate subtleties or how to maximise its potential. If Dominic Punchinello was a different man, and he will be throughout this story, he would have perhaps reflected on the events in Sir's office or used this lull in action to inform the reader just who Sir Benjamin Punchinello was and what past dealings Dominic had had with the man to know about the silk panties in his desk draw.

Unfortunately Punchinellos don't reflect, except maybe Benjamin but he's slightly different, and they don't cater for their readers; the prime reason is because they don't know about them. It may console the reader to know that if they were aware they would put on a show, or since that is what they already do, they would hesitate to scratch themselves in private.

Mister Dominic Punchinello wondered through the streets, smiling back at all the posters selling products with their dentist smiles. He hadn't expected to bump into Ms Margaret J., a woman who wore her body like it was a designer model even if it was the 'extras' version and could tell people exactly what she thought of them, their failures and their ambitions in a 'hello.'

Luckily, of unluckily, Dominic did not run into Ms Margaret J., because unlike him she was on the Helen Project in Paris.

Instead his feet took him into one of the less shadier districts, less shady because no one could afford blinds, as they did when he hadn't gotten what he wanted-which was very seldom indeed though was happening with much more regularity.

The Sunshine Valley was a slum town named after the Sunshine Valley Apples proudly printed on some of the 'houses' dotting the streets. The smell enough would have turned him around if he hadn't detected a hint of cinnamon in the smog.

He wheeled around to see Mad'n'Damned Dawn was sitting on her box drinking from a reused beer bottle. She was a crocked old matron with bright purple panty hose and a mottled fur coat. Her crew of orphans was assembled around her, watching him. One was staring at him; it was an pale oldie with wild, frizzy hair and a dingy woollen pinstripe long-coat in mockery of his own. Underneath that were stocky legs clad in dirty candy canes and shiny new mary-janes. Very slowly, with the utmost precision she lifted her hand and waved to him. She only had three digits. The old lady saw this and waved her bottle at him in an inviting manner, or as close as she could get to it.

He kept walking.

"You get back here you prig, I gots suthin for yer!" She yelled at his back but he didn't turn.

He felt something. It was something he couldn't quiet understand; there were a lot of things a Punchinello doesn't understand, but they are scarcely acknowledged. He couldn't understand why -. Actually it was more then misunderstanding, he couldn't articulate it either. He slowed his pace.

"Mister Punchinello!" A man on the other side of the road was jumping up and down to get his attention. It was a man Dominic had come to associate with gritted teeth.

He wasn't worth description; John wasn't worth a last name. He was one of those people that came to all their revelations at the bottom of a bottle and thought a cigarette served the same function as a toothbrush.

"An absolutely excellent morning John?" Dominic asked with his winning smile.

"Heard you stuffed a coke shipment; Daddy Ripper let ya live?" The man pulled out a cigarette from some orifice Dominic didn't see or want to know about. He fell in step with the Punchinello like a shadow in Sunshine Valley.

"Come to gloat? At least I have connections; I'm starting to think you're a recurring growth John."

"Wha? On your flawless features? I love a Punchinello who admits his short comings" He threw the cigarette away and lit another one in one smooth movement that took years of practice.

"We don't have short comings" He showed John every last one of his white teeth.

"Yea, I'm sure you don't," John said quietly as he took a drag; "listen I go'a deal for ya. Mad'n'Damned wants ya to pet sit for her. That kid in the coat and the mary-janes? 'Parently she needs protection."

Dominic Punchinello pulled out his own fags, imported from Italy in a gold plated holder and each wrapped in gold leaf. "So what does she want protection from?"

"Now that's the weird thing, Maddy D says protection from her daddy and she says from the bad people who want to give her silly names and make hr papper."

"And what's that mean?"

"I think she's paranoid she'll be made into a book. But what do I know, I never finished high school." He leaned into Punchinello's personal space, his face contorted like a teenager about to do something illegal for the first time "look I got something else, the rovers'll be out tonight. Show 'em a good time and eh we'll see what happens from there."

"Rovers? Sabino's rovers? Oh why not?"

…

Action next chapter promise!