Polly Parker applied her war paint. Going with black, she pumped herself up with some Social Distortion, “Don’t Drag Me Down”, filling the earbuds. The time for negotiation was over. Polly was going to show Mr. Declan Perry what happened when you messed with the little guy.

Getting her scary skull ribbon in place, her hair dyed an Elvira black, Polly walked to work. Far too amped to sit still on the bus.

“Where is everyone?” Polly asked as Tuesday finished opening.

“At home I’d guess, you’re three hours early.”

“Oh,” Polly said, checking the time on her phone.

“Did you have breakfast?”

“No,” Polly said, just remembering herself.

“Take a seat. Have a cupcake.”

“Is that okay?”

“Sure, you made most of them, and there’s more where that came from. They only cost about ten cents each in ingredients. Anyway, Lind will not have you going hungry. Trust me.”

Polly took Tuesday’s advice. It wasn’t a full English, but better than nothing. After three cupcakes, she was feeling fine and ready for action.

“So, what’s the plan, capi’tan?” Tuesday asked when the morning prep was done.

“Are you French now?” Polly asked.

“No, not just now, since birth. My surname is Boucher.”

Polly gasped, ashamed she hadn’t known. As well as the impulse to laugh at the sound of ‘Tuesday Boucher.’

“Have you ever been to Ras’poutine?” Polly asked.

“Sure, it’s my favorite place. Aside from Victory Cupcakes, of course.”

“That’s why we need to fight.”

“Fight what? Fight how?”

“The takeover by Perry Enterprises by staging a worker revolt to make even Elon Musk poop himself,” Polly said.

“There’s something to be said for ambition,” Tuesday said.

“You don’t think it will work?” Polly asked.

“Oh, no, it’s not that. Declan Perry is just something of a force of nature. No one stands in his way without getting blown over.”

“You make him sound like the big bad wolf.”

“That too,” Tuesday said.

“He’s never gone up against me,” Polly said with intensity that made Tuesday step back.

“Okay, well, let’s give it a try.”

The rest of the staff trickled in nearer opening time. Most ended up in Polly’s orbit.

“Do you think it will do anything?” Rick asked.

“It’s worth a try,” Tuesday said, convincing most who needed to be convinced.

“What’s the plan?” Annie asked.

“There are a few things we can do, and I am going to need help from all of you. Anyone who doesn’t want to join in doesn’t have to, but I really appreciate any help.”

There was a quick show of hands, more than half of the staff at the arranged meeting opting to join Polly in her crusade. The rest abstained, being neither for nor against.

“I hope this works,” Annie said, “Lind has done a lot for me too.”

“Lind has done a lot for all of us,” Tuesday agreed.

The others got out of the shop before Lind showed up to ask questions. The core crew of Tuesday behind the counter, and Polly and Rick in the kitchen, were in place as Lind jangled through the door.

“What’s going on,” Lind asked.

“What do you mean?” Tuesday asked, taking the lead.

“You’re not a farmer, sweetheart. Don’t be shoveling B.S., okay?”

“It’s a worker's action,” Polly said, coming out from the kitchen.

“Oh, dear. Well, I certainly support your rights, but I have to say it is something of a surprise.”

“No!” Polly blurted.

“Sorry?” Lind and Tuesday asked in unison.

“It’s not against you, it’s against the takeover,” Polly explained.

“What takeover?” Lind asked.

“Of the bakery,” Polly said, “isn’t that why Mr. Fancy Pants was here last week?”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one!?”

“There’s a few,” Lind said.

“Wow, the place must be popular!” Polly said with a start.

“With potential buyers, sure. I’m still considering the offers.”

“What will you do if the place sells,” Polly asked.

“I don’t quite know yet. I hope they’ll keep me on as a manager or something like that. I don’t want to go if I can help it.”

“I don’t want you to go either,” Tuesday said.

It had only been a few weeks, but they were already like family. Seeing Tuesday and Lind so sad broke poor Polly’s heart.

The tension rose again, squeezing Polly’s heart. It was hard to breathe, but like always before, she persevered.

Conflict could upset her, but Polly Parker was a fighter, never one to lay down and cry, no matter how ridiculous the odds. She might not win but she would damn well try.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, making them both look, “I don’t know how, but I will find a way. No one is taking Victory Cupcakes away, least of all Declan Perry.”

Speak of the Devil, and he will appear. That was what Polly was always told in Sunday School.

No sooner were the words out of her Sweet Oblivion Black lips than the bells rang out Declan’s arrival.

“Mr. Perry, this is most unexpected,” Lind said.

“Yes, my apologies. I just thought I would drop by and—”

“Stuff it!”

“Th-that’s not exactly what I was going to say,” Declan said, flustered.

“No, that’s what I say,” Polly confirmed, “it is bad enough when you are here for an arranged appointment. We don’t want you skulking around.”

“Skulking?” Declan asked.

“What, is there an echo in here?”

Polly took a march on Declan, all the fires of Hades burning in her eyes. Despite needing to crane her neck to hold eye contact the closer she got.

“No, I don’t—”

“Have any business here, unless you're after cupcakes, of course.”

“Okay,” Declan said.

Declan pulled out his wallet, which was even thicker than Polly could have imagined, and went for the counter.

Tuesday and Lind exchanged a look before Tuesday rushed behind the counter.

“What will you have?” she asked.

“Everything,” Declan said, placing a wad of hundreds on the counter.