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this dude had any extracurricular activity in mind involving the blonde bombshell? Did the dame know of this guy's activity and how much did she know about my own history? Well, she'd paid the five Ben Franklins, so I guessed for now I had to play the game her way. But something wasn't clicking right, and I found myself looking over my shoulder ...
at a colossal pigeon just waiting to erm... "project" on me. Shaking my fist in the air and running off in a zig-zag pattern (the better to avoid pigeon projectiles) I screamed at the top of my lungs..."
"NEVERMORE!" Hey, it worked for the raven. So that's how the dame had been keeping tabs on me. A trained pigeon; a stoolie! But the bird couldn't tack someone inside a joint, and that's way she was paying me the dinero to trail this guy. Well, if that stool pigeon got close enough to bomb my glad rags, the dame would have pigeon under glass...
or at least pigeon under tinfoil. Hey, us PIs are on a budget sometimes! Suddenly I noticed that a small crowd had gathered around me, watching me as I muttered to myself about pigeons and dames. "What gives?!" I said and turned around to face....
some guys in white coats. "Somebody been in an accident?" I asked, noticing that there was an ambulance parked across the street. The lead croaker was looking at me with a sort of stare that I reserved for rats caught in ...
...the act of stealing or beating someone up. "You the P.I. they call, 'Mike'?" he asked, menace in his voice. I looked at him sharply and replied...
"Are there any PIs they call Sweetums? Who are they anyway? I always wondered about who those people are that call themselves 'they'...And what is up with toads and the number 9?" Warily circling around me, the whitecoats looked at each other meaningfully and then...
gesturing to the kindergarten teacher (by now only a few yards away), the leader produced several photographs of the very lass with whom I had known such intimate relations back in the U.K. - unmistakably identical to the lady standing before me - with her head hanging out of a body bag, just before Ms. Jansson proceeded to rip her face off, Ethan Hunt-style, to reveal...
...oh, give us a break! It was a fake!...
Stunned, the entire crowd gasped in one voice "Yeeeshhh!". Putting my finger aside of my nose, I said...
"Damn, and I didn't even bring one of those stylish fedoras!" Meanwhile, the whitecoats were already...
moving in on the now un-masked man, who had been masquerading as a woman. I pulled a picture out of my jacket pocket. Yeah. This was the guy the dame wanted me to tail, all right. Well, as far as I was concerned...
the only tail I wanted relations with was the dame herself. I leaned in real close to the guy and whispered. . . .
"Hey got any gum or mints? I know a dame that needs kissing" He turned to me and said "pal, 20 packs of gum would not be able to freshen your breath! What the heck have you been eating?" Blushing, I replied to him....
. . . oozing zombie fingers laced with turnips, of course! The guy began to shudder, and turning to the white coats holding his arms, said. . . .