It was an unusual 3n1 that kind of became another 4n1 just later.
“Okay, *why* did you bring me to this table, Jack? Cool location, though,” he said, looking around. “Interesting tunnel over there.”
“Because he needed to show you something,” answered the woman for his cohort Jack Dogg, making him turn back and look at her again. Who was this? She seemed sorta familiar, Fink thought.
She lowered the menu she was holding.
“Nifty,” said Fink. “Appears, let’s see, you’re a princess?” He continued reading the revealed print on the shirt. “And— ‘you’re not’. Which means *I’m* not. And Jack’s not. Are you? Jack?”
“And she’s *pink*,” Jack finally piped up, ignoring Fink’s silly question to him. Because he’d given up that particular gig way back in ’72 after the Bra Wars ended. He leads on in the present: “She’s wearing pink; she’s a princess…”
“Okay, that’s nice I suppose.”
“One last thing,” she said after sighing. “I didn’t want to resort to this because I don’t like the sound it makes. But… here goes.”
*POP*.
“Wow,” says Fink. “That was pretty loud. But pretty awesome. Can I have some?”
“*No*,” answers Jack, growing understandably impatient. “Okay Fink, let’s put all this together. She’s a *princess*.”
“Right right.”
“And she’s *pink*.”
“Okay. Hey that’s kind of like…”
“Yes??” says expectant Jack.
“No, sorry. Lost it.”
“Gum, silly. Gum is the third and last clue. If you don’t—”
“Bubblegum.” His eyes grow even wider. “Princess Pinky Gumm!”
“Finally,” she said, taking the gum out of her mouth and throwing it in the direction of the tunnel. “Now that’s over you can ask questions. You scored an F minus on my little quiz, btw.”
“He he,” said bragging Jack. “I had it in two, hmph. D plus.”
“But… how?” says Fink, still staring at her in disbelief. Take away the pink and this looks nothing like the Candyland ruling Princess Pinky Gumm he knows and worships.
“I’ll tell you how.” It all had to do with Fern.
(to be continued)




