We Get (Easter) Letters

Yes folks, it's time for another delve into the Unbelieva-mailbag for a quick peruse. The first one is from Terry Towelling from Ireland, WV (little known fact: Ireland, WV is the American home of the sport of Irish Road-Bowling - ed.)who asks:

Dear Unbelievables,

Faith and begorrah, to be sure, I know we have chocolate eggs at Easter, but do they have to be in the flamin' shops so gosh darn early in the year? It seems as soon as Christmas is over they put the eggs in the shops. Why is this and can you fellers do anything to stop it? Oh, bejeesus and begorrah, Darby O'Gill and de Little People, sorr, to be sure. (stop with the Irish stuff - Ed.)

Well, let us answer those questions one at a time.

1. They don't have to be in the shops that early, but the shops would like us to believe that it is necessary, so that they can make more money selling us stuff that's frivolous and unhealthy. I could go into a long diatribe about the fact that we all eat so much unhealthy crap these days because of the post-WW2 end of rationing, but I won't. Fun fact though - one thing that wasn't rationed during WW2 in Britain was fish and chips. 

2. Sadly, Terry, we are not at liberty to stop the perfectly legal, and it is perfectly legal to sell candy at any time of year. Once it becomes restricted, we'll talk. 

Your letter does remind me of a pet peeve of mine, though, and that has to do with the size of chocolate products in general. Back in the day, Easter Eggs were mahoosive.  Remember back in the day when the eggs that are now known as Cadbury's Creme Eggs 

were known as Rowntree Mackintosh's Cream Eggs? 

Remember back when people used to challenge each other to put a whole one in their mouth and eat it? How many trips to the local casualty department could have been avoided if they hadn't tried it?

Not even close.

 But nowadays, now that they cost a helluva lot more, they are no longer a challenge because they're so small.

I believe we should begin a campaign against the shrinking of our choccie bars. Every few months, another couple of grams is shaved off the weight of a candy bar and the price either stays the same or increases. Is it just me? C'mon, world. Join me in this noble quest. 

"Let's Make Our Marathons Great Again!"

Pop goes the rings

There was a very, very brief period where we were all enamored with candy ring pops. Well, me more than we. And obsessed more than enamored. But I had valid reasoning!

• They're colorful and attention-attracting
• They're delicious
• Ladies love 'em

So yeah, all of those things are really only applicable at parties. Their presence is downright detrimental in tactical situations.

OR ARE THEY?!?

Much of the time we spend on missions is devoted to surveillance. Stake-outs, if you will. And do you know what happens when you're on a stake-out? You get hungry. For that reason, I had these handy prototypes drawn up...

A sandwich ring!

A wing ring!

A chowder ring!

And what could be better on a stake-out than a steak ring!

Genius, right? Thanks! But there was one inherent flaw; lots of our foes utilize guard dogs to protect their secret lairs and after we looked at the results from one field test...

...it was decided that it would be best to scrap this idea.

Halloween - Saved! (You're Welcome)

I have to confess, I did find the sight of AppleBob Appleby, the world's first and only frozen vegetables farmer, a little disturbing initially. I mean, wouldn't you?

She's definitely disturbed.

But upon closer inspection, I realised this guy was just some dude with a pumpkin on his head, some googly eyes and a wild fake 'stache. 

"Your wicked plan isn't gonna work, AppleBob!" I yelled.

"Please, not in mah ear!" he replied, just as it hit me that I was standing only six inches from his face. "That smarts sumpn' fierce!"

"Guys, listen, there's no way his plan will work becuzzawuzzawspwspwspppp.." I whispered to the others. They nodded in agreement, leaning in.

"Hey! I can't hear! Why won't my plan work, Unbelievatwits!?"

Even though we don't generally respond well to insults, we continued with our little charade, making AppleBob all the more mad.

"What I think we ought to do is to wizzawsspwspwssssp..." The others nodded and made approving noises. "Mmm, yes, yes. Oh, mm, definitely."

"Hey! No fair!" screamed AppleBob, like a petulant child. "Tell me! TELL ME!!!!"

"Guys, shall we tell him?" I said to Clark and Michael.

"Well, I dunno", said Clark, "He didn't say please." 

"No polite pleasies, no findy-outsies." agreed Michael.

AppleBob fidgeted and hemmed and hawed, until finally we heard a very quiet "Okay.... please."

"Can't hear you!" said Clark.

"I said, please tell me." 

"That's better, " I said. "Your plan will not work because children around the world will actually eat frozen veggies! Many of them do already. And here's the rub - they like them. They actually do not turn their nose up at ice-cold veg. Some kids actually go out of their way to eat frozen corn and the like, straight out of the pack. By removing sweeties from the shop counters of the world, you've actually done the whole world a favour."

"You're putt'n me on."

"No, sir. Kids love veggies and fruit."

"Prove it."

"OK... don't say we didn't warn you."

We then proceeded to show AppleBob a series of photos. THIS series of photos.

At each picture, AppleBob visibly winced, until the last picture (above), when his jaw dropped open (at least, we think it did - he still had the pumpkin on his head so it was impossible to tell, but he was speechless anyways).

"Is that... popsicle...a...a.."

"A frozen sweet potato on a stick, yes."

"Damn. Damn, damn, damn it all to hell and back and three times round the parking lot."

"So whaddya say, Bob? How bout you just replace all that candy?"

Bob was stunned. Now that he saw that his idea was going to have no effect on the morale of kids worldwide, he relented.

"So that's it, is it?" said Clark, somewhat disappointed. "He puts it all back and everyone just goes on their merry way without a how'd-you-do or a by-your-leave?" (It should be pointed out at this moment that Clark was going through a phase of affecting an English accent, dropping English phrases in here and there and doing a terrible job of it most of the time).

"I see what you mean, Clark," I offered. "I have an idea. You are aware, gentlemen, that this man's name sounds an awful lot like a party game that is extremely popular with the young'uns this time of year?"

Michael and Clark both nodded.

"What say we get some kiddiwinkies over here to play Apple Bobbing with AppleBob? Only we'll be bobbing him up and down in a large tank of water, pelting him with crabapples and generally torturing the man in an apple-themed way for fun and japes?"

Clark perked up. "Righto, jolly old chop-chop! I'm on it like a car bonnet, squire!" and off he went to round up some kids and various instruments of apple-themed torture.

Oh, the fun we had that afternoon. Apples here, there and everywhere. AppleBob took his lumps - in the stocks, the dunk tank, the Ferris Wheel of Doom (not sure where Clark found that), being held underwater for an extended period of time - until one by one everyone grew tired and toddled off home.

The candy was returned, AppleBob retired from villainy and now runs a B&B in Upstate New York.

So folks, Halloween was saved yet again by your own, your very own, Unbelievables. You are entirely welcome, world.

P.S. It transpired that AppleBob was not a frozen vegetable farmer at all, because when we investigated his "warehouse", all we found was seventeen chest freezers full of bags of Birds Eye  brand vegetables. Turns out there'd been a sale at Kroger.

Halloween ... Ruined? (part 2)

Before we could even launch an investigation, the perpetrator of this heinous act revealed himself to us (the inflated egos of these self-proclaimed "super villains" being such that they don't have the patience for a proper investigation to play out, which often results in their eventual and inevitable downfall). At the crime scene, a bizarre figure with googly eyes and unfortunate facial hair in farm attire suddenly appeared. "Don't bother with none o' yer fancy full-fledged investigations, Unbelievadorks", he said, repeating what I basically laid out in parentheses two sentences ago, adding a hurtful play on our moniker to it. "I am the one what done it and my name is AppleBob Appleby, the world's first and only frozen vegetables farmer!"

"You mean a farmer who grows vegetables that are later frozen and sold at grocery stores? I have bad news for you; lots of farmers already do that", Jeff said. "Oh!" Michael said. "That's funny; I took it as 'frozen, comma, vegetable farmer'." "Now, would that be an Oxford comma? Because I'm still unclear on the proper usage", I asked. "No", Jeff answered. "The 'Oxford comma' is an optional comma before the word 'and' at the end of a list." "HEY!", AppleBob interrupted. "I ain't no frozen farmer! I got an ice farm, the only one in the world, which allows me to grow the vegetables pre-frozen and pass along the savings to the grocery stores ... but don't worry about none o' that, 'cause I reckon I'm yer worst rural nightmare!! Also, the 'Oxford comma' is superfluous, redundant, and introduces ambiguity. Why, any consarned fool with sense enough to pour water out of a dang boot knows that!"

A nightmare, problem, and dilemma.

"I presume you also grow apples then?", asked Michael. "No. Why would you think that?, AppleBob answered, looking rather confused. "Because your name is ... never mind! Why did you steal all the candy, you fiend?", I asked. "Ain't it obvious? Frozen vegetable sales are way down. So's if there's no candy to hand out fer all the trickin' and treatin', what are folks gonna hand out? Huh? Huh??" We all looked at each other before Jeff said, "you don't honestly think the answer is frozen vegetables, do you?" "Yeah, seriously", Michael said. "That's a huge, illogical leap on your part. There are about a million things that would come after candy and before frozen vegetables as treats." I chimed in with, "I'd rather receive school supplies than a block of cryogenic asparagus." Jeff and Michael nodded in agreement before adding their own suggestions which included coins, socks and personal hygiene items among others. "SHUT UP!", AppleBob yelled. "The candy is gone and I'm gonna be a billionaire 'cause I love money and I hate children! My hench-thugs The Do Gooder Gang will launch a PR campaign, touting the healthy benefits of frozen vegetables...

"Hi parents of kids! We're non-threateningly multi-ethnic and full of good advice!"

... and in the unlikely event that they fail, I got back-up in the form of muscle-for-hire Skip "Scythe" Skynard!

"How do, soon-to-be-ineligible-to-wear-a-hat person?"

So looks like it's your move, Underwearables [note from Clark: we hadn't heard that one before]. What are you gonna do 'bout it?"

Jeff will answer that question for you on Friday!

Halloween ... Ruined?

There was panic in the streets.

Literally.

People were coming out the local grocer's sobbing ... short of breath ... pulling their hair out. Kids were crying out loud, wailing while their mothers shuttled them back into their vehicles. Men were raising their voices at other men, willing to return same right back at the ones who were yelling at them. Store employees walked around, befuddled and uncomprehending.

I walked into the store, hearing all the hubbub around me and asked one of the store cashier's what the matter was.

"The candy ... it's gone. All of it. There's nothing left. No one can buy any candy for Halloween to give out to kids or take to parties. Everyone is dealing with the situation badly as you can see."

"Huh. Well ... can't you guys just order more? And I hate to step on the store's toes but ... can't they go somewhere else to get candy if you don't have any?"

"You don't understand ..." the cashier explained to me. "There's no candy to be found anywhere. None in the town, nothing in the county, not a lollipop or bar or Gummi Worm in the entire state! Nevada is barren of any sweet treats! Snickers ... gone! M&Ms ... vanished! Butterfingers ... lifted! Twix ... no more! California ... Arizona ... Utah! No candy anywhere! And this thing looks to be an epidemic coast to coast! How is that even possible? Who would do such a thing?!?"

I'd casually gone to the store on a Sunday afternoon for a gallon of milk and a few sundry items and I left without spending a dime. But what I took back with me to the Unbelieva-Base, while unpurchasable, was indeed heavy.

I returned to find Clark and Jeff awaiting me with the same news I'd already discovered first hand. Apparently, the local authorities, various businesses and concerned private citizens everywhere had already been in contact with The Unbelievables asking if there was anything we could possibly do.

I looked at Clark and Jeff, they looked at each other, then looked back at me. I took off my pants so I could think better.

"Gentlemen? Let's get to work ..." I said.

Is all the candy really gone?

Is Halloween ruined?

What kind of devious trick is this?

Tune in Wednesday ... 

 

Halloween is over; now comes the hard part

Now that the trick-or-treaters have tricked and treated,  it's time for the responsible adults to get to work and fish out all the dangerous items in those sacks full of candy.
Did you really think that was an urban legend. Ha! We wish, and seriously too, in spite of that odd and inappropriately placed "Ha!".
Now, everybody knows about apples and razor blades. That one actually is false. Well, it happened; there have been razor blades put in apples but it was an ill-fated promotional stunt by the Granny Smith Razor Blade company and not a malicious act.

Tell that to the people who owned stock in Granny Smith Razor Blades

But here are a list of treats and the threats that could be inside of them...

• Snickers bar = napalm
• Hershey's bar = C-4 explosive
• Butterfinger bar = nunchucks
• Goobers and/or Raisinets = iron filings
• Skittles = Hepatitis 
• Milky Way bar = hornets
• Popcorn ball = smaller popcorn ball with many parts of it burnt quite badly
• Apple = prunes
• Baby Ruth bar = signed deed in timeshare condo in Orlando
• Jolly Ranchers = farts
• Twizzlers = ticket to an NBA preseason game
• Malted milk balls = other kind of balls
• SweetTarts = used bullets

Good luck sorting that all out.

Of course, if you just want to send all your stuff to us, we'll take care of it for you.

The Unbelievables

PO Box 68

Stiletto Flats NV 89087 

Petit: He's Such A Little Shit ...

That damned Henri Petit ...

I hate him with a passion.

He's smug, cynical, self-absorbed and psychotic. Which makes it all the more fun when we foil his plans. Because he wails like the baby that he is when we do so.

Want to know how much of a little shit-head Petit is? His name says it all. Remember Quentin Tarantino's film Inglorious Basterds? Yep ... that's where the moniker came from. Petit liked the way "LaPadite" rolled off Col. Hans Landa's tongue when he said it, especially in French, and the rest is history. (Regardless of the fact the little doink spells his name differently.) All the other names Petit went by - Beauregard, Shale, El Squirto, Big Bad Jim - didn't have "the flare" (his words) that "Petit" has. What a maroon. What a self-centered, snot-nosed twit.

And oh ... the crimes he's committed. Not all of which we've been able to pin him with. Petit is nothing if not sly.

And some of the things he's pulled ... wow. Notorious. Heinous. Utterly villainous. 

Here are some examples:

This is Leslie. Leslie was employed by Petit back in the early 80s and was utilized as Petit's unwitting foil time and again. Petit worked his evil plans so that Leslie took the fall every time, leaving Petit to scurry off into the sunset unscathed. That's the kind of guy Petit is.
 
And the worst of all? You may not realize it from the photo above but Leslie is a guy.

This is Candy. Candy was once an Unbelieva-Babe ... until Petit seduced her with promises that, with a little common sense, you knew couldn't be realized. That didn't stop Petit from trying to infiltrate our base through Candy, though. To be fair, she was a rather new Unbelieva-Babe at the time, still "in training" with us, so she was easily manipulated by Petit's devious machinations. To date, we have no idea where Candy is, how Petit employed her nor, ultimately, what Petit did with her.

Want to see one of Petit's proudest accomplishments? Here you go:

Yep. Oprah. He's been cultivating her for years, subtley working his particular brand of devilishness to fog Oprah's mind more thoroughly than a world famous Chicago dog with everything on it. Need I say anything more?

Lately? We've found the scummy, filthy hand of Petit working pop culture:

Again, yep. Not only did he procure Miley Cyrus to do his bidding, but he got Robin Thicke in on "the party" as well. Pretty damned low of him, don't you think?

Regarding the magazines that have surfaced over the years Jeff mentioned? Personally (and I think I'm in the minority here, but Clark will let you know Friday) I'm of the mind there's no such thing as bad publicity. Petit and his ilk think they're cutting us off at the knees, but, really, each time one of these things shows up on the sales racks in the grocery stores and staring at you when you enter a 7-11 to get a Slurpee they simply let the public know we're on the job. Regardless of the fact I eat ham salad.

These are just some of the reasons Petit is continually at the top of our list of ne'er do wells. You'd think a villain who looks like a baby could be easily nabbed and dealt with ... but nothing could be further from the truth ...