It seems I am running low on temptation steam, and I am no longer able to sustain your interest without resorting to childish wobbly dabble. I suppose I can easily go on for chapters by hinting that perhaps that there is more to the secret. I’m not going to play this tune any longer. I’m tired of writing, and to be quite honest, I just want to get my paycheck and get on with my life.

Don’t worry—I’m not going to just end it without a few parting chapters. Or maybe you’re as sick of this book as I am and you’d like me to just end it. Is that the case? Well too bad—I’ve written too much to just end it like that. I need the conclusion even if you don’t—is that okay with you? Yeah. Good. If you’re so bored by it then why don’t you just leave? Go ahead leave…but if you do, then you’ll never know about the ninety-foot woman who swallowed Jake whole. I know, I know, I promised you—dearest reader—no more cheap tricks. I couldn’t help myself. I really don’t want you to leave. We’ve been together all of this time—can’t you just ride out a few crummy more chapters? I promise they won’t be that bad…perhaps even entertaining, and maybe not even crummy. And don’t you want to see what really happens to Jake? I was only kidding about the fifty foot woman who swallowed him whole…or was I?

Good I’m glad you decided to stick around. I’m not going to let you down now that I have your attention. Well I’ll try not to anyway…I make few promises and no guarantees.

Okay, then—to the story.

The setting is basically this: Gatsby and I are back at the library. Jake is intently reading a book. We are both looking on with pity, because we knew it was time to tell him that he had to go…yes you read that right—I had pity on him. I’m not that mean of a guy—just misunderstood is all.

“Jake.” Gatsby said sadly with his third eye closed.

Jake looked up and politely said, “Yes.”

“It’s about time to leave, I’m afraid.”

Jake looked sadly down and softly said, “Leave? But I like it here.” He looked up hopefully and asked, “Can’t I stay just a bit longer?”

I felt pity for the kid. If you saw the face that Jake had given, you would have felt pity too. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he didn’t want to go home because he was happy being by himself. I may not have been smart enough to realize that Jake had issues, but now that I realized he had issues I was smart enough to be able to recognize them—I just needed a little bit of help is all.

Gatsby nodded no. “It’s getting late—you made a wonderful guest and we’d like you to come again, but you need to get home. You have school tomorrow.”

Jake nodded sadly, put down the book he had been reading and stood.

“Your librarian will drive you back and make sure you have a place to stay.”

I smiled and nodded.

“A place to stay? I have one.”

“A boy can’t just live by himself.”

“But I like it there.” He protested.

“Do you really like it?”

Jake looked up at him and saw the third eye staring him down. He knew he couldn’t lie because the eye would recognize it as a lie and would not allow it. “It isn’t so bad all the time.”

“Then why are you always at the library?”

Jake shrugged.

Gatsby looked at him closely with this third eye, nodded, and then said, “That’s what I thought.”

“I don’t want to go live with some stranger.”

Gatsby nodded. “I know it’s tough, but your librarian is going to make sure you get a real nice home.

“Him?” He said, then laughed, “Why would he care where I went.”

“I care.” I argued, “Got to make sure I keep my number one patron happy.”

“I know you don’t want to do it,” Gatsby said understandability, “But I want you to do it for me.

It will be hard at first, but I guarantee you’ll like your new home.” He winked his third eye at him and admitted with a smile, “I have an eye for it.”

“Fine.” He mumbled.

“There is one other thing.” Gatsby said.

Jake looked up curiously.

“I’ve handpicked a library tree for you to take home—one for your very own.”

“Really?”

“But you have to promise to still come everyday to the library.” I said, “Librarians may seem grumpy, but without people like you checking out books everyday, then I’d be out of a job.”

Before we left, Gatsby asked him, “You want to know what the secret ingredient in the tree is?”

He nodded excitedly.

“Peanut butter.”