At-sa Mighty-a Spicy Meat-a-ball Mrs Rossaroni! A Lance and Dirk Adventure

It was a clean, brightly lit room, illuminated by Saint-themed candles. Saint Rita, Saint Agnes and St. Louis cast their watchful, hand-painted eyes across the small dining room where a young Italian lad sat carefully eating his penne carbonara.

"Your carbonara is simply delicious!" the boy exclaimed through an unruly mop of shiny black hair that tended to hang over his face.

"Why-a thank-a you, little one" the Dowager replied, patting the boy on his head. "And, a-aftera dinner, I getta you da nice-a candy, maybe da Tree Musketeers Bar - they seem-a safe - I giva them to da trick-or-treaters and they-a no die."

"Why that's certainly a positive sign" Rossaroni thought for a moment, a bit incredulous even at his age, and again thanked his dowager aunt.

He continued. "Aunt Rossaroni, I truly enjoyed this dinner but, I really must head back to the orphanage now. The mistress simply insists we are safely tucked in no later than 9 o'clock of the evening .. on the dot! Which reminds me could I borrow five bob til next Tuesday?"

He batted his large brown eyes, extra cute street ragamuffin style.

"Oh, my of course you can, here you can-a have-a 10 bob because you such-a good-a eater!"

With that, the young Rossaroni made his way down the long, treacherous flight of apartment stairs in the ancient brownstone edifice located on the wrong side of the Shrewsbury tracks. Five minutes later, he was in the foyer where he bade farewell to the concierge who wasn't really the concierge. The concierge had died so his wife was now the concierge.

Be that as it may, Rossaroni planned a detour this fine evening. He was to meet his best chums: from the good side of the tracks it was the young Lord Turnips and from Kraut-Town, it was young Woody with his funny accent and even more amusing lederhosen. Woody and Turnips had gotten it into their heads to explore the forbidden ruins of the truly ancient keepe on the outskirts of town. He would share with them the details of his evening feast. Hopefully Woody would still have some leftover leberkase. And, with any luck, Turnips would have gotten over his obsession with railway track gauge standardization.

Everything was going to plan as long as Cecil Tophat III and his gang of cretins didn't show up! Or even worse, the Dunkirk Boys Massive.