Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast
“I swear, my Benji can squeeze a nickel so hard the buffalo poops. And when you’re buying sleeping powder and furniture polish, you can’t go cheap! Only the best will do. And this was far, far from the best. So . . . here we still are.”
Her eyes scanned the plates—the good china, of course—lined up and waiting with anniversary food. “Well, I don’t know about you, Mr. Peabody, but I’m done with this rabbit food. On to the next course?”
With a smile, Peabody nodded with a glance toward Benji.
Benji sat silent, red staining his chin, his eyes on the ceiling above Marta.
And Marta, ignoring the chaos that was Eidolon, reached for the cheese plate.
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