Saturday, May 22, 2010

Twinkletoes Ted (4)

I regained enough sobriety to come stag-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-gering towards the HIC HIC HIC HIC HIC HIC towards the back man I have such a wicked headache and my stomach's swirling of the building to where Lolly was crying for help.

After I'd dug her out from those aromatically super-duper-stickier-than-super-gluing-your-fingers-together pine cones, I repeatedly asked, "Where's Ted?" while doing my best imitation of Beatrix beating the snot out of Buck by smacking myself upside my head with a two by four.

A passerby, who was enjoying my impersonation of Professor Gumby singing "It's Only Make Believe" while bashing his head with a brick, said, "Ted went inside, mumbling that he was gonna make everyone rue the day."

With brain cells pouring out my ears, I grab Lolly and drag into the building.

As we round the corner to the elevators, Ted takes a flying leap of the chair and lands right on my Achy Breaky head. He starts to jump up and down and all around, turning my brain into mush and cognizant skills, already severely reduced due to the case of bottles I done inhaled in the previous chapter, into watery mush.....ummmm......ummmmm........

"I lunge at Ted, only to miss and land flat on my partner's stomach. I'm completely upset because I smudged my makeup, and so I let Ted to flee the scene. Boy was I mad. I mean, do you know how long it took me to get my makeup just right?" says Lolly.

"Suddenly I hear him calling out, 'Fast as fast can be, you'll never catch me!"
I leave a scrambled Humpty with Yeggs Benedictine the short order cook, and I run up those seventeen flights of stairs to the tippity top of the building, where I find Twinkletoes Ted sitting on a ledge and threatening to cast a spell over the city with his horrific dancing.

I jump to the ledge, grab him by his ears and slap the kitty cuffs on him.

I create a temporary holding cell for him by using a wire mail basket, and confident that he wasn't going to escape any time soon, go running down the twenty-seven flights {this is my short story, so it don't have to make sense, so there. nyah.} of stairs back to the lobby.
To my horror, Yeggs Benedictine was about to crack open my partner's head so as to make some sensational eggs Benedict with his insides. I run up to Yeggs, snatch the spatula from his hands and say, "Look, my partner just don't give up his insides for no one you know. You have to be on the exam list and have a score in the top 2% of the class. Furthermore...."
Furthermore, I couldn't finish my thought because a brown thingy went zipping by my head. Leaning over the railing, I took a face full of water.

Ted had made good his escape on the back of a sperm whale. Some how, some way, that sperm whale had come to life and Ted was making a legitimate attempt at carrying out his previous threat.
Irate beyond anyone's imagination, I gave Yeggs a slap across the face with his spatula and ran down another twenty seven flights of stairs to the lobby, so as to apprehend that fiendish fiend, Twinkletoes Ted.

But alas, it was not to be. Ted turned around and began mocking me over my inability to catch him. "Fast as fast can be, I'm the be all to end all."
Grinding my teeth, I lunge towards the sperm whale and I just manage to get my hand on that big old fin of his....

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Twinkletoes Ted (3)

...which knocked me flat on my buttocks {gotta keep this blog squeaky clean}. Suffice to say, I was royally ticked off to the nth degree that someone would have the audacity to throw a ballet shoe at me. I mean, really, a black ballet shoe? No taste in color. Anyways, Lolly ran over and said, "Humpty, it's....."

She didn't have to say anything else. The strange background music (Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. I mean really, how bombastic can you get?) said it all.

Twinkletoes Ted! The most fiendish, perhaps the most cunning of all the two-bit pantywaist misanthropes that it has been our marked displeasure to come across in all our years of pseudo-police work. The fiend....the fiend....Moe, Larry the cheese!....the fiend was sulfur city bent on continuing his reign of terror among the masses. What reign of terror, you may ask?

The most hideous form of terror that you can think of: bad dancing. Yes, he makes people dance to the exact same song in the exact same way, films them doing it, and threatens to post the video on YouTube....unless they pay him a plethora of cold hard unfeeling Andrews, pompous Ulysses, or majestic Benjamins.

"Fast as fast can be, you can't catch me! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!" says Ted as he flings his other ballet shoe, jumps, clicks his heels and dashes off like a deranged newscaster.

I scramble to my feet and dashed out the door....

....only to run face first into Red Stripe, the legendary ten foot tall beer bottle from Jamaica. After falling down on my buttocks and being drenched with that delightfully aromatic...ummm....airomatic....ummm...hey man, pash me anodder cold 'un, that's shome good schtuff........~~~~.....~~~~.....

Lolly comes running up to the scene and sees to her disappointment and disgust that Humpty is now fried like a seriously overcooked omelet. Pulling out a spatula that she got from SPATULA CITY, she peels Humpty off the ground and slings him over to the TRex mobile. Sighing, she strolls back to Red Stripe and gives him what for. Threatening to call Carrie Nation back from the dead, she soon gets the info she needs.

Leaving Red Stripe quivering in his golden barley, she is soon tripping to the light fantastic.... Flatbush, home of Mr. Met. Or rather, Mr. Met's baseball, Baby Met. She kicks open the door and grabs Baby Met with both hands and starts to squeeze him like a roll of Charmin. "Okay little man, you're just so cuddly and squeezable that I'll think I'll take you home and introduce you to my friend Lenny."

Baby Met gulped and said, "Not that, anything but that! You know what he'll do? He'll hug me and squeeze me and pet me and hold me and call me George! I'm too young to be called George!"
"Well then, start talking. Where's Teddy?"

Before Baby Met can answer, another ballet shoe comes flying through the window and hits Lolly square on the forehead. She turns and runs out of the house ands frantically looks up and down the street for any sign of Ted.

"Nyah, Nyah!"
Lolly hears that mocking call and twirls around to see where it's coming from, but she sees nothing.
"Nyah, Nyah! Fast as fast can be, I be chillin' in front of my apartment building."
"Where is he??? Where is that little fuzzy bear twerp??? I know, he must be in the bushes," says Lolly, who runs down the side street and dives headlong into the bushes.

She starts to scrounge around on the bottom, when suddenly she gets bombarded with a ton of pine cones. By the time the barrage stops, she is buried under a pile of sticky, smelly pine cones. Poking her head out, she looks straight up and sees Ted sitting as pretty as he can be, on the very tippy top of the tree, saying, "Fast as fast can be, now you can't possibly reach me!"

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Twinkletoes Ted (2)

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."

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?"
"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...

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Twinkletoes Ted! (1)

Connecticut is a wonderful state to live. It has everything that you can possibly want in a state: High taxes, specialized interest groups that have the politicians in their collective hip pocket, an electorate who elects the same bozos...erm..the same yahoos....erm...the same stale people over and over and over and over and over and over again.

Anywho, this is a story about a day in the life of one of the fashionable metropolitan areas of the state...gag, retch, choke, vomit....who in the hell wrote this script? Good Lord, narrator flips through the entire script before spitting at it this is really suddenly realizes that about a dozen people are staring at him...a good script.


This is the city, Hartford CT. It was a sunny yet slightly mildewy day. The birds were chirruping away until they slammed into the windows and plummeted to the earth, and splattering like an overripe tomato on street below. Off to the left, a drug dealer's experiment goes haywire and a very small mushroom cloud appears on the horizon.

Anyways, we were doing the day watch out the Redundant Street Crimes & Bad Taste In Clothes Division.

The Boss is Captain Plaque on Molar.

My partner is Officer T. Lollapalooza Popular Kid, or as her close friends like to call her, The Lolly Pop Kid.

My name is Humpty Day, but most of my friends call me Humpty.

It was very quiet that day, as we had nothing really to do since it was the summer time and everyone was either at the beach committing crimes or wearing the appropriate skimpy clothes that were definitely pleasing to the eyes. So while I was busy contemplating whether or not I should make a dart board out of that cursed Red Sox towel, put on my mouse ears or play with Santa Claus, my partner was busy reorganizing the office.
She'd already had the office supplies in order: the copy board resting on top of the printer, the printer loaded with recycled wood pulp that sort of looked like paper, the notebook of our last twenty unsolved cases along with the necessary disposable camera equipment and air fresheners.
Suddenly, like flash, a white light started eating the computer screen. We jumped up and ran over to check it out because the white signaled an incoming e-mail call on the Uncoordinated Dancing Mugger's Line.
I click on the e-mail to open it and a loud horrible screeching sound blows out the tiny speakers. I clear out my ears and read it.
Twinkletoes Ted has escaped from his playpen and is on his way to the city looking to resume his reign of dancing terror on the unsuspecting public!
I turn to my partner and says, "We better go round up his gang for possible leads on his whereabouts!"
"Good idea. This will give me some time to primp my hair and fix my face before heading out!"