Papa can you hear me?

"Chad hesitated briefly. "Listen, Jeff ... you better sit down* ..."


*It's not what you expect!" - from Wednesday's episode

"Jeff, before I give you the results of my test, you need to know that they suggest something of a paternal connection", said Chad. Jeff staggered unsteadily toward the nearest chair, which is redundant because rarely does someone stagger confidently, with a sense of purpose. Also, because he had just stood up and there was already a chair behind him. What sense would it make for Jeff to stagger toward some faraway chair, way off in the distance when he was right next to a perfectly good one? That's would just be a silly waste of a good stagger.

"No more wasting of words!", Jeff bellowed. "Chad, are you... trying to tell me... that Henri Petit... is my son?!? Because if that is what you're saying, I will go on a thing-destroying rampage the likes of which has never been witnessed!" He then crumpled a soda can with his bare hand, as if to provide a preview of the rampage to come. "I will also arch my back and neck and howl 'Nooooo!!' to the heavens before dropping, crestfallen and sobbing, to my knees. So I really hope that's not what you're trying to tell me, because I don't want to do any of those things." Chad replied, "Huh? No. Nothing like that at all. This has nothing to do with Henri Petit. No, I wanted to tell you that you are my father. I'm your son... DAD!"

"It's not what you expect!"

"Oh", said Jeff. "Well, that's not necessarily good news, but at least it isn't rampage-worthy. Wow. Okay, I guess." That's when Michael chimed in and asked, "Chad, are you sure about your results?" and Chad replied emphatically, "Yes, no question! The results of all the tests I've run say that Mr. Jeff Hickmont is beyond a shadow of a doubt my father. Soooo, I guess we have some catching up to do, pop. Wanna take me to a ballgame some time?" We were all quiet for a couple of seconds, taking all of this info in when Jeff said, "My name isn't Hickmont. It's Hickmott. No n's."

Now it was Chad's turn to be shocked into silence. "Huh. Will you look at that. Yep, it's not you. I guess my life's dream of meeting my father is delayed yet again." Michael said, "Good thing you didn't shell out for those ballgame tickets, Jeff!" and we all laughed, really, really hard. At that point I reached into my pocket and said, "I actually have four tickets to tonight's ballgame right here!", and we laughed even harder. Then Jeff said, "well, what about Henri Petit?" Chad answered through what sounded like sobs, "I got that part right. You're not related to him. All those connections you thought you found were just coincidences. Tenuous, awful, hideous coincidences. Nothing more."

"Cool!", we exclaimed as we hung up on Chad while he was in mid-sob and went to the ballgame, tossing the extra, unneeded ticket in the trash, where we had a wonderful time!

The Stiletto Flats Heels beat the Duckwater Quackers 4-3!

Testing, Testing, 1, 2, 3 ...

Is this a long lost Hickmott relative?

Say it ain't so!

Needless to say, Clark and I were shocked when Jeff spilled the beans about there being possible Henri Petit blood coursing through his veins.

"My God!" Clark gushed, his face slowly flushing with want. You could see a slow burn developing behind Clark's eyes; he wanted to pick Jeff up right there and then and do this:

Typical ...

"Hold on! Hold on!" I pointed at Clark knowingly and he caught my gist. There would be no tossing of a fellow Unbelievable out a window. "They're just pictures, not proof of anything. You say your mum has no clue about those photos? Who they are? How they got there? For all we know this could be some Petit plot to undermine the good Hickmott name, the little rat bastard!"

Jeff shrugged. "Well ... it's got me thinking. We have to find out ..."

"Agreed. Let's head down to the Stiletto Flats Police Department. Remember Chad Brailley, the forensics guy down there? He can run some tests and get to the bottom of this. He owes me a favor or two, anyway ..."

Chad Brailley: Brilliant forensic scientist ... but nerdy as all get out

In a secure room with the four of us sitting around a table, we explained the situation to Chad.

"Simple. A little blood work from Jeff and we can do some comparisons. It's not like I don't have tons of Petit samples courtesy of Clark's proclivities to fling him out a window. We'll get to the bottom of this and I'll call you with the results. I should have some definitive answers shortly, maybe even as early as this afternoon ..." Chad disclosed. 

With nothing but time on our hands, we went to lunch. Back at the Unbelieva-Base a few hours later, Clark came up with a more direct method than just sitting around biding our time. "Why don't I just head over to Petit's and throttle some information out of the little twit? It has been a while since I've given him grief."

The phone rang and I got up to answer it. "Let's just hold tight and see what Chad comes up with first," I said while lifting the receiver. "Hello?"

It was Chad. "Michael? Put me on speaker ..." I punched a button on the phone so everyone could hear.

"Guys? I know how important this was so I put a priority on things. It's worse than I thought."

Jeff's eyes went wide. Clark and I exchanged looks. "What is it, Chad? Lay it on the line," Jeff said impatiently.

Chad hesitated briefly. "Listen, Jeff ... you better sit down* ..."

(... to be continued ...)

*It's not what you expect!