"C'mon, Diego, raise the paddle!"

"No."

"Diego, please, just—hey! Don't pinch me! Just—FUCK! Just raise the paddle, you bastard!"

"No," Diego growls, shoving the paddle under his armpit. "I'm still not even sure what I'm doing here."

"God's work, Diego," Klaus insists, eyes wide and far from innocent. "We're doing God's work." He digs his way under his brother's crossed arms and grabs ahold of the auction paddle's handle. Klaus starts trying to wrestle it away without making a scene.

From the nasty look he's getting from the bird-faced bitch three seats over, it isn't working too well.

"We have an offer for $7,000 from the lady in red! Yes, $7,000—Can I get a bid for $7,500? $7,500…"

"Uh-huh." Diego snorts contemptuously. "Since when do you believe in God?"

"Since she wheeled her teenage ass up on a bicycle from a black and white forest and acted like a nosey cunt for five minutes straight," Klaus answers. "You can't really believe in the word of God until you hear it directly from her bratty, judgmental mouth." Klaus pulls harder on the little wooden handle, grunting softly and stamping his feet.

"I literally have no response to that."

"Good, no one asked you for one, now did they?" Klaus turns to look at his ghostly brother. "Did you ask for his opinion?" Ben shakes his head wearily. "See—there you have it!" Klaus crows, "Ben didn't ask for it, either!"

Diego scowls and puts his free hand against Klaus' face, fending him off while he continues to grab at the paddle like a madman. "How did you get Allison to loan you the money, anyway?"

"…annnd, $8,250! $8,250 to the gentleman in row eight! Do I hear $8,500?..."

Klaus pauses in his struggling, Diego's palm still flat against his face and squishing his cheeks. "That's a funny story actually—now that we've, as the kids say, been blasted into the past, everything's coming up Klaus!"

Diego raises a skeptical eyebrow.

Klaus laughs. "It's true! Sure, maybe five years in the past is shitty for a few reasons, what with you still being tossed out of the police academy…"

Diego digs his fingers into Klaus' face a little harder at that. "…and—motherfucker!—well, with Dear Old Daddy still being alive like some sort of villainous cockroach—but for me? This is the year after Allison asked me to do a little consulting for that horror flick she was working on. What was it, Don't Tell Mommy? Love Me, Mommy? Something like that—but seriously who came up with that title? When Allie told me, I thought she'd started working in some sort of indie pornography—but anyway, they needed some help with the afterlife, and they loved my stories so much they hired me to help write some of the script. They even put me in the film's credits, if you—"

"Wait, wait, wait—" Diego interrupts, completely flabbergasted. "You helped create a horror blockbuster? A movie that was successful, and if I remember it right, not actually horrible?"

"Now we're up to $9,000! A $9,000 bid to the man in the yellow sweater. Can I get $9,250?..."

Klaus gives him a shit-eating grin and winks. "I'm a man of many talents, baby." He smacks Diego's hand off his face and falls back against his chair. "And the check arrived in her mail last week, and she gave it to me three days ago." Klaus whips out his purse and pulls out a wad of Benjamins. "I cashed it today." And then he gives the stack a gentle kiss.

Diego gapes and then he looks around, like he's being Punk'd. "How much money is that?"

"Hmmm, 30 Gs," Klaus says dreamily.

"Thirty what now?" Diego hisses. "Thirty—shit, Klaus, put that away! Holy shit, why did you bring it all here? What—what did you do with it last time?"

Klaus gives Diego his perfected bitch, please look.

Diego stares for a bit until it hits him. "…Drugs? You spent thirty thousand dollars on drugs?!"

"No." Klaus holds Diego's incredulous stare. "I also spent it on alcohol and eyeliner." Then he sticks out his palm. "And I'll do it all again unless you give me that paddle."

Diego doesn't even blink. "Fine." And then he hands it over to Klaus.

"…and at $9,600, Block F is going once…going twice…"

Klaus stands up from his squeaky metal seat and waves his paddle. "$10,000!" he shouts victoriously, sticking out his tongue at Judgey McBirdface—no he didn't forget about her—after he sits back down.

"$10,000! Final bid, $10,000! Going once…going twice…SOLD! To the man in the leather skirt!"

"YES!" Klaus screams, tackling Diego and knocking them both out of their folding chairs.

"I still don't understand why you bought…that," Diego mumbles petulantly from his spot under Klaus on the dirty concrete floor.

"You're just not seeing the Bigger Picture, dear brother. Ben sees it. I see it. Once you get a good look at her up close, I think you'll see it, too!"

Diego eyes him suspiciously. "What are you trying to say, Klaus?"

"You need a job, I need a job…" Klaus trails off. "I've just given us the perfect solution!"

"No," Diego whispers, completely horrified.

"Oh, yes." Grinning wickedly, Klaus pokes his brother on the nose. "We're going to be business partners, you and I." He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "Oh, and Ben, of course! He'll be our silent third partner."

"Lame," Ben declares.

"No!" Diego whimpers.

"This is going to be so much fun!" Klaus exclaims. "Just think of all the adventures we're going to have!"

Picking up his prize is actually pretty simple. Klaus accepts an envelope filled with the vehicle's title and keys, and then marches proudly into the parking lot out back.

It takes about 20 seconds to find it. It's not exactly covert.

He, Diego, and Ben come to a stop in front of his new purchase—and all three of them just stand there and stare.

After a beat, Klaus launches himself at the truck and starfishes against the faded purple exterior. "Welcome to the family, sugartits!"

"No," Diego says, firm and resolute.

"I actually kind of like the color," Ben adds helpfully.

"Right?!" Klaus responds, smiling widely. "Like, Ben and Jerry, who?"

"No, no way," Diego repeats, arms crossed.

"Try and put that stupid paper hat on me again and I'll stab you in the pancreas."

"No need to be so violent on our first day in business!" Klaus pouts, still trying to put the striped hat on Diego's head. "Think of the children!"

Diego unsheathes his favorite knife and points it threateningly at Klaus. "You're lucky I'm even in this stupid truck, wearing this, this—smock?Klaus, I swear to fucking—"

"Excuse me?" a small voice interrupts.

Both Klaus and Diego whip their heads to look out the huge window.

There's a group of little kids standing there holding crumpled wads of dollar bills.

"Are you guys open?" the first kid in line asks nervously.

Diego glances down at his knife, and then back at the kid. He twists it behind his back and leans against the small counter in front of the window. "We sure are, what can I get you?"

"I would like a Chip-it-y Cho-co-late Cone, please," the kid sounds out, reading off of the menu displayed along the side of the truck.

"Order up!" Klaus yells as he grabs one from the cooler and hands it to the kid. "That'll be $3.00!"

Ben gives them both a thumbs up.

Diego groans internally the entire time he rings up the order. He wipes a hand down his tired face, contemplating how he got here, of all places. In a beat-up old ice cream truck. In the past. In a smock.

Fucking Klaus.

He looks out at the gaggle of tiny eager faces—tiny faces just waiting to get sticky and gross. "Alright," he sighs, "who's next?"