“So those bites were really given to you to buy carnivores?” asked Gilberto. He liked watching the Discovery Channel too much. Trunk and Orson laughed together once again. Giggling, he forced himself to speak. “I was transformed into a giant chocolate clown on Halloween. It was my costume. I was very young. My older brothers had never seen me in a trance and thought I was a real giant chocolate clown." "Ooh, that's gross," Gilbert replied. "No, if you don't know it's not real, it's not that gross. . Orson sighed but continued. “The funny thing to this day is… my brothers didn't care anymore once they found out it was me.” “That sucks,” Gilbert commented. “Have you ever eaten a bug?” Orson asked very curiously, “Or your fingernail? Have you seen children eat their own dried nasal mucus?” “Yes, boogers,” Gilbert replied, grimacing. “Well, a lot of people consider it worse,” Trunk added. "Double crap," Gilbert squirmed in his displeasure at the topic presented. "So you don't think Parrot eats carnivorous cooked chicken?" Trunk raised an eyebrow. "Well, yes, like we eat animals." Gilbert wondered why Trunk had specifically mentioned a parrot. “Well, if it tastes like chocolate, it has to be chocolate, right?” Orson offered. "And why do Trunk and the Pan workers find this so funny?" Gilbert guessed he was too young to understand its meaning, but he insisted on learning more. Then he remembered the clown vision of Orson's past. Gilbert's face lit up with tears of amusement when he saw the projected image Orson had created of a giant-sized clown and, ultimately, the one everyone was laughing at. Orson's brothers turned into giant chocolate bars. As the image grew bigger in front of Gilbert, the more his belly ached from laughing so hard. Two giants... in the center of the card... Number five again. Nor the pungent smell of his father after he had snuck out to smoke a cigar, knowing they were bad for him. Asher's cutting comments would also be welcome. How could he forget Asher, what became of him? He contemplated. “Bye, chicken, bye,” Asher cackled from a branch just out of reach. "I can smell you from here." The words sounded just like Asher, without imitating anyone. Gilbert jumped off the mat. Very happy. He ignored the environment Trunk used to hide new young wizards and seemingly train them for their own protection. The strangeness of the place was faintly imprinted on Gilbert's mind. He slipped into the shelter's courtyard and there stood Asher, one left leg out, longing for his best friend's arm. With a leap from the perch, he swung his arm up to Gilbert's shoulder to nestle into his chin. “Nice to see you, my friend, Asher.”