Sure ... we're suave and stylish and world-famous.
But that doesn't mean we don't have our own little problems to deal with.
And no ... I'm not talking all the bad guys and girls whose paths we regularly cross.
I'm talkin' John Q. Public, your average Joe Schmoe. More so, the person who doesn't seem to have anything else to do other than make a nuisance of him/herself.
We all know people can be a pain in the back of your front at times. And Stiletto Falls, Nevada (home base for The Unbelievables) is no exception.
Supposedly, we make too much noise at night. So much that it's been bothering the neighbors. Which is funny because our headquarters is based in a laundromat ... where there isn't a neighbor around. If we were ever in need of borrowing a cup of sugar, we'd be SOL.
A note was left on our door one night. We caught whiff of it the next morning when Clark ventured out to get the paper. (People sure like to leave us notes, y'know?)
"Hey, guys," Clark came bounding in, paper and note in hand. "We got a note."
"From who?" I asked.
"Dunno," Clark responded.
"What's it say?" queried Jeff.
Night time is for sleepy time! Tone it down you guys ... or else!
Your Neighbor in the neighborhood"
"Huh," Jeff and I huffed together.
As stated, we don't have any neighbors in our neck of the woods. (And Miss Riss, who's located practically across the street from our headquarters, doesn't count. We consider her more than a neighbor.) So getting a note from a "neighbor" makes this rather the curious affair.
"We could check the Unbeliev-cams and see who left it," Clark suggested.
Jeff chimed in. "Where's the fun in that? Why don't we leave our own note in response. And, to make sure whoever left it sees it, we'll throw a raucous party tonight. Chances are they'll probably return."
We were all in agreement.
Here's what we left:
And that's when things got interesting ...