Early the next morning, Schiller did not drive his own car. Instead, he called Killer Croc over, and they drove a truck to the secondhand market.
There was simply too much to buy—tents, canopies, and the like. A small car could never hold it all, so they needed a light truck to haul everything. Schiller did not intend to make several trips; he planned to buy everything at once.
The moment Killer Croc got out of the truck, he gave Schiller a hug. "I thought you weren't going to call me. I was upset for ages, Professor."
Schiller looked at him searchingly. Killer Croc said, "You have no idea how popular that logo you drew became. People are still talking about the Crocodile Moving Company. They don't know my name, but they know I'm a crocodile who helps people move."
With that, Killer Croc did a perfect crocodile-like head-and-tail waggle, then burst into laughter. "When I heard you were throwing a camping party, I knew you'd need me. If you didn't invite me and paid some other movers instead, I'd be so sad I'd cry."
Schiller was not quite used to his enthusiasm. He merely smiled without saying anything. The two got into the truck and soon arrived at the secondhand market.
The moment Killer Croc got out, he hugged Martin as well. Martin patted his broad back and said, "You got here nice and early, buddy. A few days ago, someone was asking me where that crocodile who helps people move had gone."
"The renovation deal fell through last time. I was so embarrassed I didn't dare come around here for days..."
"What's the big deal?" Martin said something in Spanish, apparently a proverb from his hometown, before adding, "We all know that old man was charging too much.