Jailbird's Warning

All we wanted to do was throw a wickedly spooky All Hallows Eve shindig to delight and entrance as well as entertain the good folks of Stiletto Flats (and a few special guests). Why anyone would want to stomp on our good time is beyond me, but like Michael said on Monday, there are always a few complainy-pantses out there who can find nothing better to do with their time than, well, complain.

But we certainly didn't expect it to be our adversaries. I mean, they are usually opposed to our actions as a matter of course, but Halloween? The night when spooky stuff is supposed to happen and all sorts of demons, sprites and goblins walk the earth looking for mischief to do? You'd have thought that a bunch of ne'er-do-wells and so-called 'master' criminals would fully embrace that scenario!

We were busy doing our party-organising duties (making the VIP list, ordering supplies in bulk from Costco, music playlist, etc.)

Including this one, natch.

...when wouldn't you know it, the phone rang. Kip the Mail Boy picked it up and from the next room we could all hear that whoever was on the other end of the line was not happy. Screaming down the phone is not a behavior that we regard highly, but that is what this person was doing. 

Kip transferred the call to the conference phone.

I dipped my toe in the water first. "Er, hello? Unbelievables here, how may we assist you?"

"NOW JUST YOU LISTEN TO ME, YOU UNBELIEVABLE PLONKERS! JUST WHAT THE BLINKY O'STINKY ARE YOU GEEZERS PLAYING AT!?!"

"Rest assured, sir," said Clark, "we are not playing - we're rather busy at this moment in time. With whom do we have the dubious pleasure of conversing?"

"'ERE, MUSH!" came back the voice. "I MAY NOT BE THAT CLEVER AN' ALL THAT, 'N THAT, BUT I KNOWS SARKY ASM WHEN I 'EARS IT, DUNNEYE? FUHGEDDABOUDIT, IT'S MCGEE."

"McGee? Again? But didn't we...? And aren't you...?" McGee was supposed to be in jail. 

"YER, WHAT OF IT? LISSEN, I AIN'T GOT MUCH TIME. ME AND THE BOYS IS MIGHTY UPSET ABOUT NOT GETTIN' INVITES TO THIS 'ERE PARTY. PRETZELS, BEER, THE WHOLE SCHMEER, BIM BAM BOLEO. YA KNAA'I MEAN?"

There was no mistaking that it was Tony "Monobrow" McGee, the world's only New Jersey cockney, on the other end. Clearly, he was ringing from jail, meaning that whatever had upset the man, he'd found out about it whilst in clink. Meaning it was something big.

 "Forget it, McGee" said Michael. "No dice. Whatever the problem is, we are not, repeat not interested."

"OH YER?" he replied. "LISSEN UP, UNBELIEVABUBBLES. 'ALLOWEEN IS S'POSED TO BE A NIGHT FOR NOT-DO-GOOD PEOPLES LIKE ME AN' ME BOYS TO DO NOT-GOOD STUFF, NOT FOR YOU DO-GOODERERS TO 'AVE PARTIES. THE CRIMINIMINIMAL FRATERTERATERNITY ARE FROWNING ON THIS, AND WILL DO WOT EVER IT TAKES TO STOP IT. YOU 'AVE BIN WARNED. FUHGEDDABOUDIT.(Click)".

We sat for a brief moment in stunned silence, then looked at each other and grinned. 

Then we fell about laughing.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAHAAAHAAAAA!!!"

"Tee-hee-heee!"

"Chortle!"

"Chuckle!

"Snicker..."

"Ha-ha."

Then Clark said, "Quick question...."

"Yes??" Michael and I asked in unison.

"Jack-O-Blast or Pumpkin King?"

"BOTH!" we cried. "HAHAHAHAAAHAHAAHAHAHAAHA!!"