Surprising News From Tony ...

The moment Clark, Jeff and I stepped into Spies Like Us we knew something was awry. And it wasn't just the mustachioed gents we saw browsing about the store.


After Tony "Monobrow" McGee popped out, he approached and simply stared at each of us, going from one Unbelievable to the next. No greeting, no evil laugh, nothing. But he did point toward the ceiling at the front of the store behind us.

Cautiously and in unison, all three of us turned to see what he was pointing at. We were greeted with huge posters plastered high on the walls:

Notice anything suspicious? Yep: Monobrows galore. We didn't expect anything less from McGee.

Turning back to face him, we noticed his henchmen had joined him. Among them were Teddy "Twitch" Monty ...

Lumpy "Hair Eye Am" Gonzalez ...

Smiley Smith ...

Neal Anderthal ...

Tor "The Beast" Chatsworth ...

... and the most underhanded looking character of all, Jimmy ...

We were in a pickle. They weren't there for a social call and we didn't see anything resembling an afternoon tea, so we concluded no good could come from any of them.

McGee just continued staring at us, not saying a word. 

I broke the ice. "What's this about, McGee? Why, all of a sudden, are the doors locked and why have all your thugs come out from beneath their rocks?" I asked.

McGee broke out in a huge smile ... which was difficult to discern beneath that huge hairlip of his.

"Guys! Nuttin' doin'! We're jus' closed for the day, s'all! You got nuttin' to worry about - I've gone legit ... !!!"

We were stunned ...

Hirsute's You, Sir

Hi folks! It's Monday, and I bet you're all a-wonderin' where the heck we were last week, eh? Well, we'll tell you. The picture we posted was a clue to what we were experiencing.

The other week we noticed that our disguise kit was looking a bit sorry for itself. We were low on supplies. Scarcely any greasepaint or eyeliner, only 2 prosthetic noses, one wig (afro), and zero, that's right, ZERO fake mustaches.

We had to replenish our kit, so we went to the local Party City.

Conveniently, the shop was located adjacent to the Sally Beauty Supply.

"Woohoo!" cried Clark. "One stop shoppin'!"

"No kidding," said Michael, gesturing to another store just yards from where we were standing. "I don't recall seeing that store before."

Once in the store, we were approached by a store associate who was proffering flyers for an upcoming seminar on new disguise techniques. We initially pooh-poohed the idea.

"Pshaw! As if you have anything to teach us!" crowed Clark.

I nudged him and reminded him that we were supposed to be acting like regular folks and not professional crimefighters.

"On the other hand, " he quickly corrected himself, "we're not busy on Monday, so we might pop along."

And that is precisely what we did. Not because we thought there was anything we could learn from this seminar, but because it seemed odd that a spy supply shop would pop up next to a Party City and a Sally beauty Supply, especially when the Army, Navy and Police Surplus store was on the next block.

On entering, we noticed the store was strangely empty, save for a few chaps sporting unusual moustaches. 

As soon as the doors closed behind us, we heard the telltale click of automatic locks securing the doors, barring our exit. Then, out of nowhere, appeared a man we'd encountered before on numerous occasions. A petty crook, lightbulb salesman and moustache supplier, and now, it seemed, someone hell-bent on kidnapping The Unbelievables.

Yes. Tony "Monobrow" McGee, the world's only New Jersey Cockney. 

What happened to us then would take us all week to deal with and recover from.

Michael will pick up the story on Wednesday. In the meantime, I'm going for a little lie down with my friend Captain Morgan.

... wait ... Where Are The Unbelievables?

Spazzin' Out

So we three Unbelievables figured we were up to the challenge of sorting out the three hellions from the VW commercial. Phil was assigned to Michael, Clark got Chunk and me, I got lumbered with Spazz.

Spazz seems to be missing a chromosome or perhaps his mother dropped him on his head when only a baby. Either way, there's sump'n about this peculiar character that's a tad NQR. (Not Quite Right.)

Whatever his problem, it causes him to leave a trail of destruction wherever he goes. Sometimes he's completely unaware of the fact that he is leaving broken toys and burning toasters in his wake. Other times he laps it up, like in the commercial pictured above.

I went to see the kid, and the first thing I noticed was a large puddle of maple syrup on the floor. Spazz was calmly sitting at the table, eating pancakes.

"What happened here?" quoth I.

"I dunno," the little one-man wrecking crew replied, flobbing chunks of pancake as he spoke. "it just sorta happened."

"So what's with the burned-out cereal box then?" I asked, gesturing towards the pile of black ash still smoldering at the other end of the table.

"Oh, well, you know how parents always tell you not to play with matches? I just wanted to find out why. Trouble is, my glasses mess with my depth perception."

It occurred to me that there was very little anyone could do for Spazz, so what I did was to give the little twit a special Unbelieva-Safety-Backpack.

Contained within this pack is everything that he could possibly need. First Aid Kit, baby wipes, defibrillator, whistle, screwdriver, penknife, fire extinguisher, Tide stain remover, thing for getting stones out of horses' hooves, you name it, it's in there. There's also a big sign on the outside to warn passers-by of the dangers of being near Spazz, and also to use the contents of his pack should a calamity occur (and you know it will). 

Bottom line, Spazz is just a walking disaster area, sometimes accidental, sometimes deliberate, and the best anyone can do around him is to take appropriate action when the inevitable occurs. So it makes sense to supply the kid with useful items in a handy hi-vis pack that anyone can use.

It's either that, or lock the kid in the attic and pretend he ran away to join the circus. Say, the circus... I wonder if they'd want him...? Let's Google it...

Breaking down the Chunk

Once we all received our assignments, Jeff and Michael turned to me and in unison said, "No kicking Chunk out of a window!" Why not, I asked. "Remember, 'No lasting physical harm' was the only request Chunk's father made." Since when has anyone getting kicked out of a window suffered 'lasting physical harm'? I've kicked Henri Petit out of dozens of windows, and all he does is grunts, sighs and gets right back to whatever horrible activity he was engaged in. "Regardless", they said. "Don't do it."

Whatever.

I went to meet with Chunk, with no real idea of what I was going to say to this kid to get him back on track. I don't know what makes kids tick! I found him in his cabin, ripping the tags off of everyone's mattresses.

"Hey Chunk. Come here. I want to talk to you."
"Okay."
"Do you know why you're here?"
"Kinda. My parents want you to teach me not to be a menace."
"Yes, that's right."
"But here's the thing; I don't know about the other two, but I did all that stuff so I would get sent here!"
"Oh. Really?"
"Yeah, I even rigged the hat draw so that you would pick my name!"
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I want you to teach me how to kick people out of windows."
"Oh. Oh my. That's... that's great."
"Dude. Are you crying?"
"No! But come with me."
"Where are we going?"
"Over to Henri Petit's house. You're going to be just fine, Chunk." 

Reigning In The Cowboys

Last week it was Camp Unbelievable where all the kids had the times of their lives.

They learned life skills, valuable lessons and they were taught the in and out "essentials" which, going forward, they will be glad to have been witness to later in life.

And then? There's these guys:
 

From left to right they are Phil, Spazz and Chunk, the three holy terrors.
 
Look familiar? That's because you've seen them in the commercial below:


>
They're not actors. They're real kids. Well, originally they were actors ... until the popularity of the Volkswagen commercial went to their heads and they decided they could get away with whatever the hell they wanted.
By chance their parents heard about The Unbelievables one fine day and wondered - regardless of the fact we're a non-government affiliated, multi-jurisdictional, not-for-profit crime & injustice fighting organization - if we might be able to reign these hooligans in a bit.

We decided to accept the challenge.

Each of us randomly picked names out of a hat to see which kid each was assigned to. I got Phil.

We decided the best way to deal with these little tornadoes of energy was to use any means necessary at our disposal to whip them into shape, which suited us just fine.

"No lasting physical harm" was the only request from Chunk's dad (he may have been joking around, we're still not sure) and we promised to abide by that. (Mostly.)

I drew Phil. Jeff got Spazz, Clark wound up with Chunk.

Phil was a pretty easy case to control. I subjected him to game after game after game of volleyball against a team of Unbelieva-Babes. He got tired pretty quickly ... but a handy, dandy cattle prod aided my efforts. Honestly, once he saw what it could do, it appeared more intimidating than anything, especially after that initial jolt. (Relax ... I modified it to apply only a slight shock as opposed to a full-force zapping. A bit cruel, perhaps, but effective.)

Sadistic? No. We're talking little monsters here so all was fair in love and war. And, really, I had to employ the thing a mere handful of times. By the end of the day, Phil was putty in my hands and (how should I put this?) "open to the suggestion" of cooling his jets and "acting proper." The results I expected were just as I'd planned with nary a side step.

Jeff and Clark? Jeff got Spazz ...

... Clark wound up with Chunk ...

 
My partners had other challenging hills to climb with their charges. I'll let them tell their tales ...

Fun Is Our "In Tent", Geddit?

Rise and shine, campers! Time for another fun-packed day at Camp Unbelievable!

So Clarkito and The Mikester gave you a bit of info regarding what happens at Camp Unbelievable during the summer. But they didn't give you the full story. Oh, sure, they told you what you might find if you were to read the, ahem, prospectus...

The front cover.

But...


It is my job to provide the entertainment. After all, at the end of each day, our campers are tired yet happy after a day of merry adventures.

See? Tired yet happy.

 Clark mentioned some of our core programs, but we do also have some slightly more 'unusual' classes...

"How To Bring Down Giants"

"Hi-Fi Maintenance"

"The Coolness Of Scooters"

"Leaping From The Roof Of One Building To Another Just Like they Do In The Movies"

"More Scooter Coolness"

"Naked Christmas Decorations" (Michael's Idea)

"Nude Rowing" (Michael's idea again)

"Honey Hotrod Teaching Classic Car Maintenance" (Michael again... you sense a pattern here?)

 Anyway, they're going to want to wind down in the clubhouse (or outside, if it's fine) and be served up some top-notch entertainment and/or fun and relaxing activities. Such as...

Camp Unbelievable's very own heartthrob, Mr. Ellis Parsley. The resemblance is purely coincidental.

Partially-Clothed Bedtime Stories. (Michael's idea).

Re-enacting the Battle of New Orleans using Unbelievababes and Volleyballs (Michael sure has a lot of these ideas, doesn't he?)

Michael also ensures the safety and well-being of our campers by being fully proficient in First Aid and CPR. He also runs the on-site Pharmacy.

Pantsless, of course.

Sometimes we just get out the ol' stereogram and whack on a couple of party-type platters...

in order to shimmy the evening away. Except of course, on Tuesdays. As you know, Tuesday is always 'whipped potato day', and that means...

Walkmans for EVERYBODY!

A Bit Of Elaboration About Camp Unbelievable ...

Camp Unbelievable is, well ... unbelievable. (Tell me you didn't see that coming.)

Schlubs come to us barely able to tie their own shoelaces and we send'em back to their folks productive members of a household. That's a big win-win in our book!

But let's take a bit closer look at things. The way Clark presented some of the activities in Monday's post garnered a few cards and letters of concern from some of you who we're about to sign on the dotted line, ready to send your Dicks and Janes our way next year.

Fair enough ... I can see that. So here's what I'll do: I'll elaborate to calm any fears or misgivings you might have. 

We'll take the activities previously mentioned one at a time in the order they were presented: rope holding, two friend adventures, mastery of weapons, satellite repair, man stacking, Plutonium stacking, human battering ram and how to properly tie a bow tie. I'm certain, after you're provided with a more detailed explanation on the events, your hesitations will be swept away.

 

Rope Holding

Seriously, where's the confusion? Your kid is going to need to learn how to hold a rope tons during their young, formative years. Who better to teach them than The Unbelievables? Consider it the "101 Course" prior to moving forward to mastery of weapons. You've got to learn to walk before you can run, you know. Are we good? Good. Let's move along then ...

Two Friend Adventures

You saw Lord Of The Flies, right? It's along those lines ... sort of. A "too many cooks in the kitchen will ruin the dish" sort of thing, if you get my meaning. Herd mentality and the like. You don't want that happening, do you? You want your kid to have fun, not be a lemming. Groups of four or more simply aren't conducive to a good camp experience. (But ... that's a tale for another time.)

Look, here's a perfect example: The Unbelievables are a trio and we work like a well-oiled machine. See what I mean? Besides, there's that "someone might actually die" thing to contend with and you don't really want that, right? I didn't think so. That's precisely why we keep the groups in manageable triads. Let's make your child's experience the best we can provide ... that's all we're saying ...

Mastery Of Weapons

An Unbelievable specialty! The kids are in confident, safe and sane hands when these lessons come about ... provided they competently pass rope holding (above). And no kid has ever failed rope holding in the history of Camp Unbelievable. Well ... one kid did. But that was a long time ago ... and we've perfected our methods in the interim. Besides, the family of that kid was handsomely compensated. And they didn't really miss him anyway. Again: win-win.

(Side Note: Kids LOVE the Lobster Rage Fist!)

Satellite Repair

Just what it says. It's kind of like algebra: "When am I ever going to need algebra in my lifetime?"

And then ... << BOOM >> 

One day? There you are, using it and remembering you learned it back in the day. And guess what? It came in handy after all. Satellite repair is exactly the same thing. Trust us - it's useful stuff.

Man Stacking

Do you recall "packing efficiency" during high school chemistry? Man stacking is along those same lines. Except, you know, with human beings. We're teaching nothing but life lessons and fundamentals here, folks ... and your kid will be all the more adept, ready and able if he learns this stuff now.

Plutonium Stacking

 

Now, granted, it sounds dangerous ... but it really isn't. It's not like we're working with weapons-grade Plutonium, y'unnerstan' ...

Human Battering Ram

I know, I know ... there are a lot of parents out there who preach no physical rough housing and no spanking and "use your words instead of your fists" and all that.

But you never know when your kid will find him/herself in a situation that: a) needs defusing and quickly; or, b) requires the well-being of their own person where only the teachings of human battering ram will come in handy. Don't worry - we have all the appropriate equipment for safe, hands-on instruction.

How To Properly Tie A Bow Tie

Etiquette, folks. Nothing wrong with good manners, just as important as anything listed above. (We are fashionable gents, remember.)

There. See? That wasn't so rough, was it? And here you thought you might be jeopardizing your kids' lives and limbs in the pursuit of a good old fashioned summer get away. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Rest easy, parents. Feel calm and confident as you put junior's name down for next year's Camp Unbelievable. (Which, incidentally, will be bigger and better than this year's!)

Oh ... and folks? You're welcome.