Those Damned Dirty Apes

"Arrrrgh!"

Arrrrgh, indeed.

Those.  Damned.  Dirty.  Apes.

After all this time, it was almost unbelievable (see what I did there?) to conceive they'd been lying in wait all this time just to get back into the game and attempt even more monkey business than before.

But that was their plan.  Exactly.  The three of us knew them too well.  Having tussled with them previously, what nefarious shenanigans could they be up to this time?

The fact of the matter came down to this:  A diabolical plot by a bunch of simian ne'er-do-wells deserved an equally ingenious counter measure.

"I'll be right back," I told Clark and Jeff.  I grabbed my wallet and headed for the door.

"Where's he going?" Clark asked.  "Beats me" Jeff responded "... but I bet he's got a plan."

Of course I had a plan ...

Half an hour later, I returned with an envelope in hand.

"Whatcha got?" the guys asked.  

"The easiest solution to our little Bames Jond & Company problem.  Tickets to "The Monkey," that spiffy flick currently making the rounds in theaters near us.  You know ... the one based on the Stephen King short story from back in the day.  I'm going to offer up free tickets for an evening showing to that hairy brood!  We'll make nice, invite them on a group date, settle in for the show then << BAM! >>  The local boys in blue can nab them before they've even had the chance to open a box of Banana Runts candy."

 

Brilliant!

"Problem solved.  We'll barely need to lift a finger.  Plus, being the bunch of chimps they are, dollars to donuts says they'll have whatever villainous criminal plans they're purporting to conduct tucked neatly in their coat pockets.  Nothing like catching'em red-handed!"

I got on the phone and called our contacts at the local police station to arrange everything.

Long story short, Jond and his cohorts accepted our generous invitation (probably delighted at the notion we were walking right into their hands and being so nice about it), met us at the theater and - no sooner than the opening credits began to roll - the theater lights came on and they were surrounded by the authorities.  Clark, Jeff and I just sat there, munching popcorn and enjoying "the show." 

Apprehended, we waved goodbye to them as they were ceremoniously led out of the theater in cuffs.  "We'll tell you how it ends!" Jeff offered.  "No we won't!" Clark refuted.

"Man ... that was easy," I offered.  "So easy, it makes you wonder if we shouldn't come out of semi-retirement ..."

We collectively pondered that thought then relaxed as the lights dimmed, "The Monkey" coming back on the big screen once more for us to enjoy.

Yeah ... foiling Bames Jond and the rest was easy.  Much easier than the tale of the Meta messages.  Was it genius (probably) or sheer coincidence Jeff put two and two together and tied the original message, the anagram, the sneeze correlation, Jond, et al, together?  There were still missing pieces to the story, certainly ... not to mention that other virtually identical notification from "Det Herkules Poirot."  

But perhaps, just perhaps, that's a tale for another time ...

... possibly ...

 

Bad Animals? Or, What We Did While We Were Away

If you think the news of our revived activity after all this time was surprising to you, just imagine how we felt after 7 years, 3 months and 5 days of relative calm and semi-retirement!

That's right. I say relative calm  because the intervening years have not been without their trials and tribulations, no sirree Bob. Firstly, there's been the issue of the cliffhanger we left you on back in 2017. Clark ended by saying he saw Petit's booted appendage heading towards him followed by everything going black, leading some of our loyal fans to believe he had been rubbed out by the tiny terror - but think about it for a nanosecond, if he had been, he could hardly have written about the event, could he? Nope, as he explained on Monday, he merely sprained his ankle. After explaining this to Michael and I, he re-sprained it by attempting to dance, but he put some ice on it and all was well.

So what had we, the individual members of the Unbelievables, been doing with our valuable time for the last seven years?

Michael had tried his hand at many things befitting a retired, independently wealthy man-about-town. Art, for example. Not painting or macrame or batik as you might imagine, but given his predilection for pantslessness he thought, "Why not go the whole hog and get naked? And why not let the wider community enjoy this fine Vitruvian physique, this Adonis-like specimen of a body?". So he immediately became a life model for a couple of years, shedding his garments for the benefit of budding artists in Stiletto Flats and beyond. Let me tell you, the life drawing classes of Nevada have never been so massively oversubscribed. 

"Hmm, need more charcoal."

He also got his realtor's license and opened a small office in nearby Winnemucca ""just as something to fall back on should the funds dry up", as he says. And dry up they almost did, as he developed a tiny, weeny, incy-wincy little Go Fish addiction after a trip to a casino in Washington State. 

"Do you have any threes?"

Fortunately he beat that addiction by using some of his remaining funds to kit himself out with some decent rods and tackle and took up actual fishing instead. 

All the gear, no idea.

Myself, I became an ultramarathon runner, a speedwalker and a dancehall DJ, specialising in dub reggae nights and Mantovani & Kostelanetz waltz weekends. I also got my realtor's license, but that was after I was dared to by one of my Irish drinking buddies, "just for the craic."

Clark was reticent about letting on what he'd been up to after being presumed dead, and only time will tell whether he'll reveal all (although I did see him whispering to Michael while I was brewing the tea, so maybe Michael knows something...?).

Anyway, back to the story of this mysterious Meta message. On Monday Clark told you that the lady's name was an anagram of SAINKLAIESWRU, the noise made by a person suppressing a sneeze, which got me thinking, mainly because of the book I'd recently reading.

The book was A House For Mr Biswas by V.S Naipaul, which involves a man with an "unlucky sneeze". It was published in 1961 and later adapted as a musical (although it was never produced). The musical compositions were written by Monty Norman, and one song "Bad Sign, Good Sign" had a melody that was later used by Mr. Norman in a piece of music for Dr.No. Yes, I'm talking about the iconic James Bond theme.

A lightbulb switched on in my head. It couldn't be, could it? Surely not after all this time?

Bames Jond, really? Mr. Shifter, Mr. B, and Bobo the Enforcer? 

Those fiendish chimps that tied Michael and I to a pole and written "poop" on the walls with their own poop? Those asshole apes that had violated Charley Chimp? Were they back on the loose? 

We don't know what they did to him, but he was never quite the same afterwards. That.. stare.  Chilling.

I'll let Michael tell you on Friday what happened after I shared my concerns with him and Clark, but not before I tell you the even more mysterious thing that happened - we received another Meta message. An exact duplicate of the one from Laura Wisniewska, only this time it was from a different person, and you're not gonna flippin' believe it.

Surely not, right?

This Gang Is A Bunch Of Animals, Part 3

The Corvette's engine roared as it roared through the sleeping streets of Stilleto Flats like a hot red knife with four wheels and 427 cu in (7.0 l) Big-Block V8 with 390 hp (291 kW; 395 PS) cutting through a small Nevada town made of soft, creamy butter. I had to reach the Save-Or-Not and get those bananas! Jeff and Michael were depending on me. Bananas. Bananas! BANANAS!!
I slammed the car into park at the curb, jumped out without opening the door and raced into the store. On my way to the produce department, I saw something that froze me in my tracks.

"What... are those?"
"We're sampling delicious new HosenWurst® brand hot dogs tonight! Would you like to try one?"

I did. And it was delicious.

"What do you call these?"
"Well, they're just hot dogs with tooth picks in them, so you can pick them up without getting your fingers greasy."
"I've seen these before. At parties. They're extremely popular with the we-go-to-parties crowd."
"Well, yes. Usually people wrap them in bacon or there's some kind of a barbecue sauce..."
"Slow down! I want to write this recipe down!"
"The recipe? For barbecue sauce?"
"No! For just what you have here. Speak slowly and don't leave anything out!"

RECIPE FOR JUST HOT DOGS WITH TOOTH PICKS IN THEM

Ingredients: HosenWurst® brand hot dogs, tooth picks

1. Cook the HosenWurst® brand hot dogs
2. Cut the HosenWurst® brand hot dogs into bite sized-pieces
3. Stick a tooth pick into each piece
4. Serve

I picked up a package of HosenWurst® brand hot dogs and a whole box of tooth picks and headed back to the Unbelieva-base. I realized when I stepped inside and saw what a shambles the place was that I had completely forgotten about the bananas and the situation Jeff and Michael had been left in. They were sitting on the floor, back-to-back, tied to a pole. Jeff had been stripped naked and one of the apes had put a pair of trousers on Michael. Both were rendered extremely uncomfortable under these conditions. The savage beasts (Bames Jond, Mr. B, Bobo and Mr. Shifter, not my colleagues) had written the word "poop" in poop on one of the walls and had taken turns doing...things...to Charley Chimp. They also stole and damaged a whole bunch of our stuff. Jeff and Michael glared at me as I untied them and went into the kitchen to prepare the snacks. I guess they were pretty mad at me but that didn't stop them from enjoying the late-night gnosh.

Hey, chimp happens.

This Gang Is A Bunch Of Animals, Part 2

It became evident rather quickly

we weren't dealing with just a bunch of well-dressed monkeys ...

Ulf The Unbelievadog, canine operative, clued us in:

"Arf! Arf! Arffy woof woof! Hooooowwwwwwwwlllllllllll ... !!!" That's all Jeff needed to hear.

"Guys! Ulf The Unbelievadog just told me the greatest threat to the world as we know it is at hand and it's in the form of a bunch of dressed-up chimps with plans to take over the world!" Jeff panted. "It's a real live version of Planet Of The Apes! Let's thwart this thing!"

Clark and I looked at each other and then back again at Jeff. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes! That's intel straight from Ulf!" Jeff confirmed.

"Ulf! Ulf, boy! C'mere!" Clark called. Ulf trotted over and sat down in front of Clark. "Talk to me, boy ..."

Ulf's ears pricked up and he stood: "Arf! Arf! Arffy woof woof! Hooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwlllllllllllllllllllllllll ... !!!"

"Where'd you find this out?" Clark countered.

"Woof ... *gag* ... yelp, arf woof!" came the response.

"Huh," I puffed. "Real live chimps? That's a new one. It's a wonder no one's thought of this before. Are you sure they're not being led by anyone, Ulf? They're just chimps, all on their own, instigating and planning this overthrow?"

"Woof!" Ulf responded.

"We've got to get going!" Jeff blurted.

"Hold on ... we need a plan first," I offered. Jeff and Clark agreed.

"Clark: Run to the store and get a bushel or two of bananas. Jeff: Downstairs in the storeroom behind that old box of grenades is Charley Chimp. Grab him for me, will you? Meanwhile, I need to get out of these pants and give Ulf some water. He's parched!"

Charley Chimp: Best decoy ever

Clark headed out and we heard the 'Vette roar down the road seconds later. Jeff came back up from the storeroom with Charley.

"We'll use Charley as the usual diversionary tactic and put him in the middle of the floor at the Unbelieva-Base's laundry entrance. Surround Charley with the bananas Clark will bring back for us shortly and we have that animal horde right where we want them. Besides, I've been dying to bust out the Lobster Rage Fist!"

The Lobster Rage Fist:

Quite possibly The Unbelievables' most deadly weapon

15 minutes later after planting Charley as a diversion (and still waiting on Clark to return) we heard a commotion. We flipped on the Unbelieva-Monitors keeping an eye on the faux-laundry entrance to the Unbelieva-Base.

"Uh oh. We have a problem ..." Jeff half whispered through pursed lips.

There on the screen was Mr. B, Bames Jond, Mr. Shifter, Bobo and a couple dozen more chimp goons closing in on Charley in the middle of the entrance.

"No problem. I'll activate Charley. He'll keep those chimps busy wondering what he'll do next. But that will only last half a minute at best. Even with the best of our arsenal, it's us two against almost 30 of them. We're outnumbered 15 to 1! And with Kip The Mail Boy off today*, we need Clark desperately! What's holding him up ... ??!!?"(... to be continued Friday ...)

*In all honesty, Kip isn't much help in a tussle any time. No great loss there.

This Gang Is A Bunch Of Animals

You remember our special canine operative Ulf the Unbelievadog, right?

He helped us to defeat Mac Ramey (above, trying to fend off Ulf and failing miserably.)

I told you all a while back about Ulf and our other dog pals keeping tabs on rock stars and helping them to maintain their rock'n'roll personas without doing anything embarrassing (like dad dancing, or clipping coupons for example).

Well, I mentioned that there are other animal agents in our network, and this week they are on high alert.

Here are a few of our top agents:

Nutkins the Marksman, trained in all forms of miniature weaponry.

Top spy Sniffles McGrew, getting the down-low on the low-down and dirty.

Fins O'Toole, underwater tech.

Long-range shutterbug Reynard Randall, surveillance expert.

Old Blood & Nuts himself, General Gerbil S. Patton.

Microelectronics expert - Jimmy "Papa" Roach.

Fooling everyone with their cuteness, the Whiskers Twins.

BunBun Van Flop. the Moneypenny to Ulf's 007.

So why are they on high alert, I hear you cry? So glad you asked.

Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to the biggest threat to the Earth since Loki tried to outdo The Avengers in a weird horned hat. (What exactly was the deal with that, anyways?)

Just can't take this guy seriously - not in that headgear, anyway.

Anyway, back to the matter in hand - the greatest threat to the world as we know it, which we aim to neatly wrap up by the end of the week, as we do.

Here are the main protagonists.

A high-ranking chimp officer known only as Mr. B. (Ulf tells me it probably stands for Buttons).

His top agent, Bames Jond - ladies man, weapons expert, addicted to tea.

The muscle of the operation - Mr. Shifter.

And their enforcer, Bobo.

Now I know to the ordinary person it just looks like a bunch of dressed-up chimps, but believe me when I say they have plans afoot to take over the Earth - yes, ladles and jellyspoons, it's a real live version of Planet Of The Apes about to take place in your neighbourhood! 

Don't believe me? Well, then feast your eyes on this latest photo from Animal Intel HQ.

Chilling stuff.

More on Wednesday.