Cairn searched the the depths of his memory

Cairn searched the the depths of his memory for the stupidest joke he could think of. "What's a dentist's favorite time?" he quipped.

"Tooth hurty." Her victim replied lacklusterly. Indeed she'd already heard this joke before & winced as the CIA surgeon started the wisdom tooth extraction. Why? She knew too much.

It really came down not to them knowing to much but them knowing something the CIA didn't know. It didn't matter what it was, if they knew it and the CIA didn't then they got the

cash. And that was all they cared about. Money, money, money. This could be traced back to their ancestral roots, where each and every grandpa or grandma, however "great" they were

at bull-fighting, put profits above pursuing their dreams. "No bull-fighter ever became a millionaire," said Great Great Uncle Bert. "You gotta prioritise. And I want the cash."

I wiped the tears from my eyes as Great Great Uncle Bert ripped the red cloak out of my hand and tossed it in the trash. Later that day, he had books on accounting delivered to my

small apartment. My Uncle stood in the doorway. "Be an accountant like everyone else in this family. Don't follow your father's path and become a Matador! (God rest his soul.)"

-y eyes. Just then Auntie Jenn flitted in. "Good lord, what have you done to your uncle?" she shrieked, "He's TINY!" "Nothing that shouldn't have been done years ago, " I answered.

Auntie Jenn let out a soft sigh. We stood there together looking down at him. "Truth is," Auntie Jenn finally said, "He's been a small man all his life. But now his body fits him."