Bab 872: A Burning Memory, Part 5

"Part two of three," Ria informed, stretching her fingers, cracking her knuckles, and laying both hands sprawled atop the table. "Don't worry, I'll make it short. I'm not too big on going on and on about me  - I promised you." 

Things took a turn on act two here. It wasn't just words, expressions, and tone of voice she used to tell her tale anymore. With a turn of a new chapter, another form of storytelling too emerged - puppeteering. 

I haven't seen puppets being used since I tuned in to Sesame Street, and I haven't tuned in to Sesame Street around the same time I stopped staying up late at night on the prowl for Santa Claus. 

On Irene's table, between half-eaten meals and porcelain plates, danced the flicker and fizzle of blinding sparks… little orange fireworks blasting away from her fingertips. 

I suppose that's one thing Ria had over Sesame Street, no actual puppets, no hidden strings, just a little frazzle-dazzle, and presto - we got a show.