Seventh (Now the numbering scheme is back on track.)
Ding. Boston opened the oven and took out his work. He may not be able to do much to help Vulvacia, but he did what he could. Placing the salmon on the table, he stretched upwards for the CAT69 cable hanging from the ceiling and plugged it into the baked fish. It was time to cyberhack.
As data began to flow within and throughout the fish Bostons eyes glazed over. He looked around for Sadness in the great fishernet and notice that there was no signal whatsoever. There was, however, a discrepancy in this fish that he could not settle in his head. Something smelled wrong. Something was wrong.
He casually browsed the fishernet for some humorous funny smells to see if he could find the source of this problem. Things were not making a lick of sense.
“Not a lick.” Boston thought. He quickly searched for Vulvacia’s location. Hoboken, just like he figured. But here was the origin of the smell that was giving him all of his worries. And it was sweet. Sweeter than love itself. He cyberhacked into Hoboken security camera after security camera until he finally found Vulvacia. There she was, twisting her gauntlets for a ruffle tuffle with a salt dealer.
But that was no normal salt dealer. Vulvacia was in real danger.