So after spending forty-five minutes waiting for Lolly to finish brushing her hair 100 strokes, touching up her lipstick, putting on eyeliner, brushing her hair, deciding what shirt to wear
does this make me look fat?, what jeans to wear, what shoes to wear, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc., I grabbed the half side of beef and ran out to the TRex-mobile.
After sticking the side of beef on the pole vault pole and waving the entire thing in his face, we were off and lumbering down the main drag. Fortunately, we had no damage to any parked cars this time around, only the occasional road hog who didn't have the gumption to move out the way. Anyways, Lolly gets off the two way compact mirror and says that Ted's right hand man, Bubble Bobble has been spotted outside the Southbury Junction harassing the customers with his bad crooning and out of sync finger snaps. After inserting the catheter into the Trex's cranium in order to change directions, we were soon lumbering towards the Southbury Junction.
Once we got there, we found that even though Bubble was being restrained by a couple of female bouncers, he was still able to harass people with his out of sync finger snaps. Jumping down from the TRex, it took us longer than normal to land, because a gust of wind briefly blew our parachutes off course. Because we're currently off course, I'll take this opportunity to tell you about the dastardly Bubble Bobble. Bubble has no sense of rhythm or timing. As a kid, he was merciless teased because he could never keep in sync with a song. Always hitting the upbeat, he would soon be flailing his arms in a failed attempt at trying to keep up with the song. As an adult, he put his talents to good use. He would approach musicians and threaten to show up and disrupt their concert. How? By standing in front of the stage and start snapping his fingers on the upbeat.
Anyways, we finally landed, with Lolly landing on top of so as not to ruin her designer clothes or her face or her hair. After getting untangled from the parachute, we ran over and took control of Bubble from the female bouncers. Slapping the 'cuffs on him, my partner said, "Listen you, you better tell us who else is involved with Twinkletoes escape, otherwise..."
"Otherwise what?" asked Bubble in a snotty tone.
"Otherwise, this," said Lolly. This, was Lolly taking out her collapsible makeup kit, unfolding it to its full two feet by two feet size, me taking out a professional camera with a telephoto lens, her taking out a radio and saying, "Professional modeling."
Bubble collapsed to the ground and started blubbering profusely. In between blubbering, he said that the only other person he knew that was involved was Drooler Delight. Quickly packing up our gear, we left Bubble in the safe hands of the two ten year old female bouncers, strapped on our rocket launchers and launched ourselves back up to the TRex-mobile, and took off after Drooler Delight.
Drooler Delight was perhaps
the stupidest member of the gang. He wasn't particularly smart, agile or strong. The
only thing he had going for him, was the prodigious amount of drool that poured down his mouth whenever he got excited, which was all the time. Thus, he scared the pants out anyone he came across. He made his living by threatening to drool over and into anything that anyone was eating, drinking, smoking, playing, watching or sleeping. And seeing how that large streams of drool were always trailing behind him, this founding member of Drooler's Anonymous was perhaps the most revolting and nauseating criminal we ever had the misfortune in dealing with.
"Say Humpty?" asked Lolly.
"Yeeeesss?" says I.
"Captain Molar says that Drooler is hanging out at the pastry shop and threatening to drool all over the freshly made eclairs."
"Egads, do you know how disgustingly gross that is?"
"I'll say. Hang on a sec," says Lolly, who starts reading her compact a bit more intently. "Captain says that bazooka barfing is going on as we speak."
"Right. Better get that Pepto extinguisher ready."
"Check."
When we arrive at the pastry shop, sure enough, bazooka barfing was going full tilt. We rush in and empty the entire canister of Pepto into the store. While everyone was busy intaking the pleasant cherry flavored liquid, we manage to snag Drooler just as he was trying to sneak out the back door. Handcuffing him, Lolly asks him who else is involved with Ted's escape.
~~
"Not telling," says Drooler as he sprays a gallon of drool all over myself and Lolly.
"Is that so? Well we'll see about that," says Lolly, who takes a tiny little box out her pocket. She shows it to me, I nod my approval, so she shows the it to Drooler.
He takes a hard look at the box, his eyes go wide, and he says, "No! Not that! Anything but that! I'll talk. Frankie Footballer was the point man on this caper!"
"My God, Frankie Footballer!" I exclaimed. "C'mon Lolly, times a wastin'!"
We leave Drooler in the capable hands of the only person who wasn't affected by Drooler..his mother. Tossing her the box of Alum, we run back to the TRex and take the elevator to the head, start the engine and stagger off in the general direction of somewhere.
If Twinkletoes Ted is the brains behind the outfit, then Frankie is very much the brawn. Frankie loves to play any kind of outdoor contact sport, especially football. American, Australian or English, it don't matter. So long as he can pound people into oblivion, he's a happy camper. However, he does have a weak spot.
Lolly gets word that Frankie is busy practicing dog piling on a group of pre-teens. Because Frankie likes contact sport, he ofter goes days/weeks/months without showering. We hurry to the playground before his bad personal hygiene can take its toll on the pre-teens.
Sure enough, when we get there, the pre-teens are trying to rip their clothes off to get rid of the stink. Lolly pulls out a long garden hose from her collapsible makeup kit and begins spraying the area with a soothing anti-bacterial body wash with aloe. Stunned by the sudden torrential downpour of body wash, Frankie passes out.
When he comes to, he finds himself looking down the barrel of a spray bottle of deodorant. "Talk," I says.
"What?" says Frankie.
"Is the Raisin involved?"
I could tell by the pained expression on his face and the smoke bellowing from his ears that Frankie was trying to think.
Before I could act further, Lolly taps my shoulder and points over to a nearby gazebo. Sure enough, Ray Raisin is serenading a restless crowd of people at gunpoint. I ask, "Got the boom box?"
"Yup."
"Let it rip."
~~~
Lolly hits the play button and in an instant, Ray is brought to his knees by the sound of his own voice. Ray is such a horrendous singer that he makes Walter Huang sound like Toni Braxton. We hand out earplugs as we make our way through the crowd and to the gazebo. Once there, Lolly asks Ray where Twinkletoes is.
~~~
"I don't know, and if I did, I wouldn't tell you."
"Oh yeah? Maybe if I plug these headphones in, it will loosen your memory?"
"God no, please! I'll talk, I'll talk! Ask Redeye Ralph! He'll know!"
"Where can I find Redeye Ralph? Be quick about it!"
"In the garden of Eden."
Lolly was about to give Ray whatfor when I said, "I know where the Garden of Eden is. C'mon."
We strolls towards the back of the playground, where we find a small tented area located in a far corner. The second we open the flap, the strong overpowering aroma of baked mushrooms drops us to our collective knees.
~~~~
Ralph and Gary the Goldfish come strolling into view. Taking out their hookahs, they sit down in front of us and say, "The truth of what you seek will not be found here, for what you'll find here is only the Harry Mudd version of the truth."
Chewing it back, I say after swallowing, "I'll take the Harry Mudd version of the truth for $20 please."
I watch as Gary take the tube out his mouth and using it as a pointer, points towards the outside of the tent. Not expecting much, I turned around and was immediately met with a ballet shoe to the face...