|Once again, this|
Such was the case when Jeff found the file folder of pictures. I was on my way back to base and the pizza I had ordered wouldn't be ready for another 20 minutes so I told Jeff I'd stop by Petit's place and see if I could stir something up.
ME: All right, Petit. The jig, much like a pair of scissors or anything else you might hurt yourself with in this house, is up.
HP: Well, well, well. The Unbeliev... wait. Where are the other two?
ME: They're busy. It's just me.
HP: Michael isn't with you? Wearing his cutoffs?
ME: What did I just say, diaper boy?!?
HP: Gyah! Get away from me! You're the one I hate the most, constantly kicking me out of windows.
ME: Relax, thug rat. I just want to know what's with the file full of stupid pictures Jeff found at our headquarters.
HP: For at least the thousandth time, I am not a child. And those aren't "stupid pictures". They're a code. A fiendishly clever code. There is absolutely zero chance any of you will figure it out. Fools! Ha! The mighty Unbelievables, humbled before me at last!
ME: Pssh. Some code.You're busy working on two formulas; one that will make water fattening and the other that will emasculate the world's fighting men, leaving earth susceptible to alien attack, which you think will finally impress your mother, as well as women who find you foul. Also, you seem to think you wouldn't get hassled when ordering alcohol if you looked more like a bull and less like the small, lump of goo with eyes that you are, which is kind of weird but like everything else you do, is like I said: stupid.
HP: Huh. Aside from a couple of semantic details, that's actually pretty much spot on.
ME: One thing, though. Why did you place the clues in a spot where you knew we'd find them.
HP: Because I wanted you to find them!
ME: Oh, to taunt us?
HP: Well, not exactly. I-I thought it would be fun, going head-to-head with you guys. See, basically it comes down to me being misunderstood due to the fact that I'm lonely, and...
ME: All right, junior, let's go. It's window time.
HP: Wait! While you succeeded in cracking the code, you're too late! The plan is already underway.
ME: Why, you malodorous ankle biter!
HP: There is still time to save your precious planet, you name-calling window-kicker. However, it will require me working with Michael Noble as a team of two best friends.
ME: Ew. Michael is not going to be pleased.
HP: Whatever. It's either this or that? What say you?
Find out on Friday What Michael say... err, said.