“…he went and got two workers who read real good, made ‘em his assistants. They’re sorting everything now, putting all the papers together.”
“What did they say about why they’re doing it?” asked Bad Jack, idly. He stopped when Gumball shook his head.“Nothing, bossman.”
“Well, did you ask them?” said Bad Jack.
“Yeah, bossman.” Gumball looked worried. “Well, not me. My guy did. Crazy-Face, you know? They told him to ask the Ombudsman. They said he told ‘em to say that, too.”
“And Crazy-Face didn’t smack it into their heads about how that’s unacceptable?” That actually got Bad Jack a little worried. Crazy-Face wasn’t what you’d call amiable.
“He would have, bossman. Except just as he got started…” Gumball swallowed. “The Ombudsman showed up. Asked Crazy-Face what he was doing there, and who told him to do it. Crazy-Face wouldn’t tell him shit, of course, so the Ombudsman…”
“Guy’s named Morty, Gumball,” said Bad Jack peevishly.
“Sure, bossman. So the Om- Morty told Crazy-Face to get the hell out of his office and back on the job. And you know how Crazy-Face is, right?”
“Yeah,” Bad Jack closed his eyes, trying to figure out what to do next. Because even a busted-up Ombudsman was going to be a real problem for him. “Asshole thinks shit like that’s an excuse to start fighting. How bad was it?”
“Not too bad, I swear.” Gumball swallowed. “Dislocated shoulder, black eye, busted nose from the way Crazy-Face went through the door without it being open the first time.”
Bad Jack snapped open his eyes. “What, that’s what happened to Crazy-Face? How much damage did he do?”
“Well,” Gumball said, “when the Ombudsman came into my office dragging Crazy-Face behind him, maybe he had some of his hair mussed up?”