'Where are you going with that lump hammer?'
I signed pettishly. Of course, I knew the answer.
The chimp's face had been pressed to the glass
for the best part of a week, now, glaring out
the window at Mr Prenderghast's pumpkins next door,
now coming into season and ripe as knives.
'Don't you want to maintain a level of integrity
with yourself, Martin?' the only noise
the click-slap of my hands bumping together
forming words. 'What use is a rosette
if it's come by nefariously?'
Martin hung his head. 'Come on, Marty,'
I signed. 'You're better than this.
Let's have some squash.'
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