why don't you put those fedoras away right now?" The legionnaires began to pelt the dame with them, and she began to scream. . . .
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why don't you put those fedoras away right now?" The legionnaires began to pelt the dame with them, and she began to scream. . . .
"Hey Koolaid!" And wouldn't you know a big rampaging pitcher burst throught the wall and then....
http://i61.photobucket.com/albums/h5...cf/koolaid.jpg
accompanied by Jack Sparrow's fanfare from the "Pirates of the Caribbean" soundtrack, began waddling about through the uniformed mass, tossing legionnaires into his cavity, where they drowned in a wet and sugary red mess. Just then I was most rudely brought back to reality by...
...the frustrated script writer who couldn't seem to control this plot line. He pounded furiously on the typewriter's keys, trying to force Ingrid to reveal...
her ankles, but he should have known dames like Ingrid just don't do things like that. "What the heck ever happened to that dame Lola" he wondered as he ...
tried to figure out why the storyline keeps going from first person to third and back again. I didn't drink THAT much tequila! I finally figured out that the dame wanted me to find her two-timing old man. I'd introduce him to a friend close to my...
...great-step aunt on your father's side twice removed, who fought in the American Civil war before you were born. You really should meet both your great-step aunt and her close friend because you would...
. . . . likely be interested in their unaccounted for obsession with lattices. In case you didn't know, lattices . . . .
are not the vegetables that are the building blocks of salads but something unique, in this case ...
. . . . a wholly unrefined form of art, languidly residing nearer the back of . . . .
houses and apartment buildings. The wild lattice, in contrast to it's domestic cousin is most often found in the ...
. . . . wild underbrush of the treacherous Outback, and is known to the idigenous tribesmen as a . . . .
The lattice that lurks by night....a most dreaded apparition and not one to be trifled with if you value your....
. . . . genitalia. Lattices have been know to, on multiple occasions, . . . .
inflict serious injury on those not wearing protective undergarments. They must also never be called a name such as....
. . . . "Shirley", as they might then be subject to puerile jokes cracked by Leslie Nielsen, which would ultimately result in . . . .
a bizarre and unfortunate incident with an amourous auto-pilot dummy. Still, that might not be...
...so far fetched, since Dame Lola Ingrid obviously suspected something!. I wondered if she wanted me to prove her husband's indiscretions or find...
this double crossing jerk and make him cough up enough mamuza to keep Lola Ingrid from also having me push a couple pills into him, and not the kind the doctor hands out. She said he hung out at a nightclub called the Blue Flamingo, which didn't help...
since the only nightclub in this dump of a town was called The slightly offwhite, somewhat tan with a hint of yellow Flamingo and so I had to....
...head over to PI Depot to buy 127 blue highlighters. Armed with these and...
a featherduster, I marched down the street. Suddenly, I heard a....
...voice in my head say, "Better quote the Dame a fee while you still can!"
"Shhhh!" I said. "I'm thinking...!"
"What?" she said.
"Hmmm?" I said.
"Don't 'shhh' me! I wasn't saying anything!"
"Don't tell me!" I replied. "Now, please state your case, then I'll state my fee, and then we can get on with...
...your political indoctrination. Now, your mom tells that you've been...
and just then I woke up in my office chair with a wicked hangover. I had a buzzing in my ears like a millon angry hornets. Wait. That was the door buzzer. Danged if the same dame wasn't back. I hoped she had the facts this time, because a full precussion band was playing in ...
The PI office next door and it was really annoying me. Danged if the oddest thing didn't happen next...
The dame slaps five c-notes down on my cluttered desk, and says in a more cultured voice than her appearance warranted, "There's your pay for the next week. I need you to tail a man for me." For five c-notes, I trail the dude to...
...kindergarten, when he proceeded to sit on the floor and play with the other children. I began to wonder...
if somebody wasn't losing their mind. "Was it me?" I thought and suddenly I noticed that the kindergarten teacher looked exactly like a ....
bombshell Danish professor I'd had in my Oxford years with whom my relations were not always the most, shall we say, academic. This made me wonder if...
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...