“And you can take your stupid Tower and stick it up--”
Valentina’s relentlessly angry, mercilessly vicious, and physiologically impossible threat was cut short when Snifit 1 burst through the door and managed to deposit her between it and the wall of Booster’s personal suite.
“Sir, I’d hate to interrupt this verbal beating, but I have some important numbers to show you,” the assistant declared, brandishing an important-looking clipboard with every intention of shoving it right into Booster’s line of sight.
“Fire away, my loyal crony,” the rotund, thickly bearded Tower Keeper ordered, effortlessly losing all interest in the severe oral thrashing he was receiving at the hands of his wife.
“Now just a minute, you hooded goon!” the faux monarch interjected as she emerged from behind the heavy wooden door. “I’m not through telling off your dim-witted boss!”
“Well, could you make it quick? You know, business before pleasure and all.”
“Oh, I’ll be quick, you idiotic druid-thing.” Turning to her squat husband, Valentina stabbed an angry, trembling finger at Booster and spat, “I want a divorce!”
“What do you mean, my dear?” the little man inquired, crossing his eyes to meet the finger jabbed square at his well-reddened nose.
“I want out of this marriage!”
“Meaning what, exactly?”
“I’m leaving you!”
“Well, when are you coming back?”
“Never!” And with that, the pampered non-queen stormed out of Booster’s room, and, once she found her way through, the rest of Booster’s Tower as well.
The freshly jilted husband stood speechless for a moment, as if quietly pondering the events that had just transpired. Still staring at the door, he heaved a sigh and blinked his beady and not-properly-lined-up eyes. “That was… something else,” he observed.
“If I may be frank,” Snifit 1 confessed, “I didn’t see that relationship lasting very long.”
“Either way, Frank, that was the most interesting fifty-seven hours and thirty-four minutes of my life.”
“I find it inconceivable that a woman could be so eager to marry a man at one point and then so quickly decide that she can’t stand him.”
“Is it possible that my wealth was a bigger initial attractor than my personality?”
“About that,” Snifit 1 explained, deftly avoiding having to answer the question by turning attention to his clipboard. “Studies show that our customer attendance rate has dropped significantly during this fiscal quarter. Our only sizeable tour group of recent record was the Mario party last month.”
“Oh, yeah…” Booster reminisced. “That was a fun ride, what with the bombs and the Princess and the running up the hill and the evil cake and all. We should have them over again sometime, and maybe give them a frequent patron’s pass or some sort of discount.”
“Actually, sir, I don’t believe that Mario is in the area right now. Word has it that, after vanquishing the malevolent Smithy, Mario took a vacation.”
“And how would that affect our profit margin?”
“We stand to gain,” and, after a little figuring, “Nothing.”
“Hmmmm. Can we get by on that much?”
Bursting in through the door, as the Snifits apparently had a habit of doing, Snifit 2 announced: “Booster, sir, your lawyer is here!”
“My lawyer?”
“He’s here to help you negotiate your divorce,” the subordinate declared. “We made the appointment in advance, after you spent your honeymoon hog-tied and gagged in the linen closet.”
A rotund, thickly bearded Mushroom person clad in a very business-like suit and toting a dark brown suitcase waddled into Booster’s suite, following Snifit 2, and proffered his hand. “Jerry Grayson, Attorney at Law,” he pronounced.
Examining the chubby, whiskered man, Booster could not help but feel an instant trust towards the lawyer. “I like the cut of your jib, Mr. Grayson. And I’m sure you know how hard it is to find a good jib-cutter these days.
“But I can’t help wondering: aren’t lawyers supposed to be evil?”
“Not me; I’m a benevolent lawyer. You can tell by my crow’s feet.,” Grayson said, indicating the stiff creases radiating from the corners of his genial-looking eyes.
“I agree with that logic,” Booster stated. “Let’s get down to business.”
At Booster’s instruction, the foursome proceeded to the aptly-named “Bombing Room” and sat down at a table behind the blast shield. Jerry Grayson opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack of important-looking papers. Perching a tiny pair of glasses on the vicinity of his nasal area, the lawyer said, “Now, before we begin, I’d like you to give me the details of your pre-nuptial agreement.”
“My what?”
“Pre-nuptial agreement; it’s a legal—“
“Wait a moment,” the Tower Keeper interrupted, “Does this involve potato chips in any way?”
“Well, no,” the Mushroom man admitted. “Excuse me, are you telling me that all of your recent legal actions have centered in some way around potato chips?”
“And other generously salted snack foods, yes.”
“Umm, well, then… I… oh, brother…” Grayson said, clearly flustered at the bureaucratic position he was in.
“If I may interrupt,” Snifit 1 said, “We think there may be question as to the validity of the marriage to begin with.”
“How’s that?” the lawyer asked.
“You see, the ceremony itself was not performed by a proper clergyman or justice of the peace.”
“Then who married the two of them?”
“A bird.”
“A bird?”
“A large bird. Wearing a helmet. And eyeglasses.”
“You’re telling me that Booster was married by an immense, armored bird in glasses?”
“Yes, but what I’m getting at is that they were non-prescription glasses.”
“I... see,” Jerry Grayson observed. “Well, I think I can make a valid case based on this and help you maintain possession of your belongings, Mr. Booster. But, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to discuss further business through your assistant here.”
“Do I have to do anything?” Booster asked.
“No.”
“Great,” the attention-deficient Tower Keeper said as he jumped off of his chair, “all this sitting down was getting boring.” And with an ushering gesture to Snifit 2, he headed towards the entrance of his Tower.
Upon reaching the yard in front of his lofty home, Booster and his assistant came across a quintet of Snifits, all hopping in place and excitedly chatted among themselves as they gazed at something off to the west. The bearded dwarf could not help but be intrigued as to what they troop was discussing.
“What’s going on?” he queried.
The group collectively jumped in place and spun around to face their boss. Snifit 3 spoke up, as the rest of the party was frozen in surprise.
“We, uh, just saw the shapely but unreasonably bitter woman leaving that way,” he explained.
“Really? Was it my wife?”
The cloaked lackey nodded.
“Hey, where’s she going? Let’s go catch her!” Booster ordered.
“Booster, sir,” Snifit 2 reminded, “May I remind you that you’re planning to divorce from Valentina as we speak?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“You’re planning to divorce from Valentina as we speak, sir. That’s what the lawyer was discussing just now.”
“I was wondering why he never mentioned my ‘Equal Rights for Potato Chips’ lobby.”
“Yes, well, the point is that you won’t be living with or interacting with Valentina in any married-like way ever again,” the assistant clarified.
“You mean, no more late-night vocal trouncings and prohibitions of doing anything and everything that’s fun?”
“No, sir, you’re a bachelor again; you can do whatever you want. The world is your oyster; you can, in effect, Conquer the World, Booster.”
“Really? I like the sound of that,” the Tower Keeper declared.
“We thought you would.”