Trafford’s Trading Club

After leaving Mr. Smith's restaurant, Mr. Pudding walked alone in the street, more like a traveler than a pedestrian.

He measures the form of everything around him.

The lights in the windows, the reflections of people on the glass, or one of the kids in the restaurant, or something... anything else that can move.

When the light was red and green, Teacher Pudding stood on the sidewalk, sitting next to an old man with pale hair —— he was really old and old, and the old spots on his face were even gray.

The elderly's family bought something from the newsstand behind them.

“Good evening.” Teacher Pudding looked across the street at the change on the red and green lamp pole and didn't look back, saying hello to the old man in the wheelchair.

The old man seemed a bit like he was asleep, his eyes were half open and half closed... maybe he would actually fall asleep at any moment, just trying not to let himself fall asleep past - finally, the sound of 'good evening’ sobered him up a bit.

He did wake up a little, and the cloudiness in his eyes faded slightly. He raised his head and saw Mr. Pudding standing next to him - his pupils gradually opened, he even opened his mouth and his fingers subconsciously grabbed the armrest of the wheelchair.

This can be artificial, the look that exists in the face of this old man at this moment is… fear.

“Stay away from me!” The shadow of the old man is low and fast, “stay away from me! ”

“I didn't mean to come near you.” Teacher Pudding still didn't go to see the old man, his eyes never even removed from the red and green light across the street, and he had a smile on his face - a smile that didn't make much sense, perhaps just to make himself look better.

The old man listens, and his fingers in the wheelchair are slowly loosening... the look of nervousness and fear on his face tends to flatten, and he also looks at the red and green light across the street - still red, but seems to be about to enter the penultimate phase of the red light.

“I know, I know.” The old man lowered his eyes and said softly, “I know… I just can't, nobody can. ”

“No one can stay forever, you've lived a life envied by others… I think you should have nothing to regret.” Teacher Pudding finally moved her eyes and turned to look at the old man in the wheelchair next to her.

The old man's gaze also turned to Teacher Pudding - the penultimate number of red and green lights across the street, right in the middle of their gaze, and suddenly started… starting with the number 9, then the number 8.

This time is constantly decreasing, up to ten seconds, and no one knows what to do… in a person's life, in the 10 seconds before the red and green light —— what to do?

“Perhaps a farewell should be made.” Teacher Pulley suddenly whispered.

The old man quickly moved out of Teacher Pudding's sight, and he hurriedly turned around and looked at the family members who were making payments in front of the newsstand behind him.

He didn't blink, he didn't want to waste a second —— maybe he also felt that he wasted a lot of 10 seconds in his life before these red and green lights.

His eyes shook and his orbit eventually got wet... the red and green light across the street finally turned green - for ten seconds, so briefly.

When the green light came on, Teacher Pudding moved and he slowly walked across the street - while the old man's heart suddenly beat sharply.

This caused him unprecedented pain, as the old man grabbed the clothes on his chest in pain and fell off a wheelchair - and this shook his family, the owner of the newsstand, and the pedestrian.

“Father!! Father!! Help! Help!!! ”

By the time people were surrounded by the old man's falling position, Teacher Pudding had walked across the street, looked left and right, then headed left.

“Help! Help!!! ”

Men are supposed to be the old man's sons, reporting the old man's body helplessly at this moment… enthusiastic people begin to help, while a black cat quietly leaves the crowd.

The cat disappeared.

……

……

In the dining room kitchen, Mr. Smith, who had temporarily completed the task at hand, sat down and poured himself a glass of ice water.

Actually he doesn't feel the heat, he doesn't even sweat... although the kitchen has air conditioning, some slight sweat is normal too.

At this point, the waiter collected the plates after the diner had finished, passing in front of Mr. Smith.

Mr. Smith took a look, and he was about to drink water, and he couldn't even think about drinking it at this point, putting the cup down - he wasn't even thirsty.

“Why haven't these dishes moved?” Mr. Smith suddenly called the waiter and frowned, "What table is this? ”

As a chef, you are naturally very concerned about whether your production is satisfactory to the Guest - the biggest denial for a chef is if the cooked Guest has basically not moved.

Mr. Smith even took a closer look and quickly discovered that the dishes were made by himself, not by two or three cooks.

“Sir, the guest at the table you said was weird to order.” The waiter thought about it: “They greeted a friend and ordered three servings of food. Later, the man had basically finished eating, but the men and women had not eaten too much, and basically tasted every bite. ”

Mr. Smith frowned a little deeper… He stood up, walked forward, took a fork, and tasted the untouched food quickly.

He tried it all over again... for a chef, actually, every single bite is enough to tell if the product is good or bad - Mr. Smith quickly dropped the fork... no problem.

He believes that this is the best flavor he can make - but the eater hardly ever moves… If it's just not eaten as well, it can be justified by the other person's picking.

“Try it too.” Mr. Smith suddenly looked at the waiter and said.

The waiter was stunned, but he didn't say anything. He also took a fork and tasted it one by one. “Tastes good, Mr. Smith, I don't think there's a problem. ”

She really felt that Mr. Smith was very good at cooking - a chef qualified to be a Samsung Michelin chef, how could he be bad at it?

“Where are the two diners now?” Mr. Smith still cares a lot about this.

“Checked out, sir.” The waiter said hastily.

“They…” Mr. Smith thought, "Have they said anything… intentionally or unintentionally about these dishes? ”

"" They just said they weren't hungry, so they didn't eat... "I actually asked. After all, they barely moved. ”

“Not hungry? Not hungry. What are you doing in the restaurant?” Mr. Smith shrugged for a moment. "Think about it. Anything else? ”

“The lady said something… let me think. ”

The waiter tried to recall that she found it hard to recall the look of her lover again - knowing that both men and women could be very impressed.

“What did he say? Think about it." Mr. Smith even looked a little anxious and gazed.

The waiter said hastily: "By the way, what the lady said, the time has passed. ”

“Time... time?” Mr. Smith shrugged, then twisted his eyebrows again, "past? Time's up? What do you mean?"

The waitress just shrugged her shoulders... she didn't really care much about it, and even thought her boss, Mr. Smith, seemed a little too sensitive - even Michelin's Samsung chef couldn't say he could make food to everyone's satisfaction.

No. Are there others who refuse to eat pork?

“Sir, if you don't mind, I'm going to work.” Speaking of time, the waiter remembers that she's about to leave work, and she doesn't want to be delayed because she's here chatting to each other - even though she's her own boss.

Of course, if Mr. Smith were willing to pay for her overtime, it would certainly be okay.

“You go.” Mr. Smith waved and agreed.

But before the waiter left, he left behind the unused food and put it in front of him.

He started trying again to taste the food he made, "Time… time has passed? You mean the fire? ”

At a time when Mr. Smith couldn't figure it out, the home phone rang. Mrs. Elora, his mother, Mrs. Elora, said on the phone that Joe was missing and could not be found anywhere, and there was one other thing.

Mr. Smith stood up after listening, "What, did you call an ambulance?! ”

……

……

“I'm going home! ”

This fits Joe's fourth request - he's been taken to a room since his sister crashed him off the bus.

This should look like a lady's room - or a mother's room.

What makes you think that? It's because Joe saw a picture of his family in this room.

The mother is a beautiful woman, and the mother also has a lovely daughter... who looks about the same age as Joe, at least the cute little girl in the picture looks that way.

So...

Yes, he was actually taken by this incredible older sister, who broke into ordinary people's houses and started using people's things without the consent of the owner, mainly for Joe.

“Go home? Yes, then open the box and send it to your door!” Nero stepped on the chair and looked at Joe with a smile and said that her hands weren't actually idle - she was carrying all the makeup from the owner of the house, "don't cry! I painted my makeup so easily! Dig your eyes out! ”

Obviously, as a former Michal club god who was cultivated for combat purposes, he does not have any experience in caring for children in his own right - but it has to be said that such threats are more effective than [Pinocchio] in his little bedtime story.

“I hate skirts. I don't want to wear skirts. I'm a boy!” Joe made a grievance protest as he gently drew his nose.

“All right, kid! See if you're satisfied!” Nero didn't care, but he threw the chemicals directly behind him and pulled Joe off the stool and placed them in front of the makeup mirror.

She even stretched her tongue against her upper lip and admired her [masterpiece] with satisfaction.

Joe in the mirror is wearing a little pink dress right now, even with a wig, like an exquisite doll.

“Big sister... can you really beat Mr. Reaper? I don't want to be a girl! ”

“Shut up and cut you off! You don't need it now anyway, and I don't know what it feels like! It's no shame it's gone! ”

“I'm going home! I'm going home!”

At this point, the owner of the house had probably just returned and heard the voice of the upstairs room… the hostess immediately turned to the upstairs and asked.

Nero didn't care. He became a silver-grey leopard, bit Joe's clothes and ran out the window with him.

Ah--!!!!

When the housekeeper rushed up to open the door and looked at the lights, a loud scream broke out - her room was overturned as if it had been visited by the meanest thief. The saddest thing is that the thing in front of her dresser, almost cracked open, broken open...

It's a mess.

……

Ambulances soon entered hospitals in small towns - the local population is small, but the medical system is not too backward because of university ties - but obviously cannot be described as very advanced.

Mr. Smith arrived at the hospital in a hurry, and Mrs. Eloula was already waiting nervously outside the emergency room.

“Why is that?” Mr. Smith asked hastily.

Mrs. Eloula cried, “I don't know, dinner was fine, but Debra suddenly said that her stomach was sore and it hurt so much that I had to call an ambulance. ”

“Where are the people? ”

“Inside, the doctor just went in bad. ”

Mr. Smith took a quick, deep breath, looked at the lights on before the emergency, and he was all numb, "Where's Joe? Still not found? ”

Mrs. Elora shook her head and said she had called the police.

Mr. Smith rubbed his face so hard that he sat down… all the unfortunate things that happened all at once reminded Mr. Smith of the unfortunate things that happened six months ago.

It's okay, it's okay.

He whispered to himself that it was all right... didn't he survive six months ago?

Boo--!

Mr. Smith's ears suddenly burst into chaos… the sound of brakes, screaming, and loud noises.

……

Outside the door of a small town hospital, a sparrow suddenly landed on a small tree in the courtyard, measuring what - at this point, a figure slowly came along: Teacher Pudding.

Sparrows flew right out of the tree.

Teacher Pudding looked up at the hospital at this point.