Not Just Another Halloween Bash

Several years back, someone got the bright idea The Unbelievables should throw a Halloween party. 

It wasn't me. It wasn't Jeff. And it wasn't Clark. We have enough business to attend to as dashing, crime-fighting upkeepers of the tried and true.

No ... it was the general public at large.

John Q. Public, out there in Stiletto Flats somewhere, came along one day and asked "You know what? Why not have The Unbelievables host Stiletto Flats Halloween Bash this year?" The idea was bandied about, ended up growing legs and, suddenly, it was a town rallying cry resulting in an official invitation to us from the mayor of Stiletto Flats himself. He called us down to his office one afternoon, passed warm greetings all around and put the question to us:

"How 'bout it guys? Everyone knows your parties are legendary over there at the Unbelieva-Base. I hear past parties contained apple bobbing that's legendary! We think you guys would put together a terrific shindig!" he stated enthusiastically.

We might know a trick or two about apple bobbing ...

"What about the muckety-mucks who disagree with the term 'Halloween'?" Jeff wondered. "You know there's always a group out there who want to ruin all the fun for everyone  ... turn it into a 'Harvest Festival' and quash the spooky element out of it."

"Oh, don't worry about them. The whole town is up for this thing. The naysayers won't come near - they'll stay at home and want nothing to do with it. No trouble at all." The Mayor's words held water. Stiletto Flats is a pretty open and close-knit community with most folks on the same page. It's not without a few grumblers but what city isn't? And they do keep to themselves.

"We have free reign as to how we put it together?" Clark asked. 

Yeah ... we had ideas how to throw this party ...

"Certainly! We'll provide whatever venue you like, tables, chairs and all that jazz and even assign you a crew of grunts to help you put everything together if you like. Maybe you could invite the weird guy AppleBobby, too!"

AppleBob Appleby you mean? Uhhhm ... probably not ...

"We'll get back to you on him ... but sold!" I exclaimed looking at the guys for confirmation. "Just one thing: Halloween is on a weekday, school night and whatnot. Let's do it the Saturday prior. Good?"

"Terrific!" The Mayor agreed. 

We set out to make plans. Ideas were bandied about, preparations got underway and posters were printed up (courtesy of the Stiletto Flats Bugle), distributed and displayed. With The Unbelievables featured, the upcoming festival was the talk of the town.

It turned out that didn't sit very well with some of our down-in-the-mouth foes of old once they got wind of it however. How could a simple good time party for the public at large get under someone's collar? But it did.

And here's how that turned out ...

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!