I walked in the kitchen holding a small basket of laundry and my hair sort of unkempt. To pull off the “poor orphan girl” act I removed my shoes, wore a red shirt and a baggy pair of jeans. That by the way is my standard outfit so not much effort was put into the poor orphan child look save jacking up my hair. As I approached the kitchen I lowered my shoulders and said to Fife:
Me: Um, Papa.
Fife: Yessssss?
Me: Gus has the runs. It seems he’s eaten something and it made him sick. Can I um, borrow some money?
Fife: How much?
Me: Look into my sad brown eyes before I tell you, and remember I’m an orphan. Your supposed to take care of orphans and widows. My ex-husband isn’t dead but if that makes a difference I can have it arranged.
Fife: It makes a difference.
Me: Then I’ll need more than $5.00.
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