Having A Smashing Thanksgiving

Well, as you may or may not have noticed, it was Thanksgiving last week.However, we were still reeling from Clark's unfortunate moment of incarceration and his troubles with Henri Petit and the now-disgraced Officer Sixpack Bicep and were too tired to do anything about Turkey Day Dinner. However, the Unbelievababes were on hand, saw how down in the dumps we were and pulled out all the stops to make our Thanksgiving a pleasant and happy one.

It was unseasonably warm on Thursday here in Stiletto Flats, so Barby Kewribbs whipped out the charcoal grill and got some spatchcocked pheasant starters sizzling and getting our mouths watering.

Then the beautiful Sue Donymm surprised us with some whoppers, glistening and moist and ready to be tasted. Turkeys, that is.

There were some lovely side dishes prepared by the delightful Jill O'Salad...

and the groaning board was a sight to behold.

The whole thing was so enjoyable that we completely forgot about all that unpleasantness with Petit.

Well, almost completely. Clark spent a couple hours playing his newest favourite video game - The Unbelievables (in stores just in time for Christmas, folks!) - specifically the special level named Clark's Defenestration Station where you can relive again and again some of Clark's best out-of-window-kicking-and-chuckings (see below).

Ciao!

More Twists And Turns Than You Can Shake A Stick At

~~~moving on swiftly (we hope)~~~

The Renault stopped abruptly and Petit turned in his seat to face us, saying "So, Unbelie--", promptly falling out of his booster seat, dropping his ciggy, saying "shit" a few times, retrieving the still-burning smoke, realising the carpet was on fire, stamping it out and clambering back up into his seat, huffing and puffing to catch his breath, then finally spluttering, "So... Un... believables *cough*"

"Spit it out, you insufferable toe-rag," growled Clark, "before I defenestrate you again!"

That clearly rattled Petit and his eyes glowed with anger. Or did they? No, they didn't. It was merely the reflection of the roaring fire that was now raging on the floorboards where he had previously dropped his lit fag-end. 

We scrambled for the doors and each of us grabbed one of the TVD girls and bailed from the vehicle, gallantly rescuing them from the rapidly escalating conflagration.

"WAIT! WHAT ABOUT ME!!!" screamed the nasty toddler-like git.

"Shall we rescue him?" I asked the others.

"I suppose we have to if we want to find out what is going on," Michael replied, "although there's no immediate hurry."

"I CAN HEAR YOU!!! GET ME OUT OF HERE!!" wailed Petit, so we resignedly went over and opened the door.

"Wait, the door was unlocked the whole time, you tiny freak! Was that some kind of trick?" I gasped incredulously.

"Well, normally I'd say yes, Unbelieva-goons, but sadly it pains me to say that I just couldn't reach the handle. You guys just don't know what it's like to be me, you know, it's hard, it really gets me down someti--"

His pitiful speech was abruptly stopped by the van exploding (as these things are apt to do, especially in movies, which was somewhat ironic considering we were standing in what appeared to be an abandoned movie set).

"Well, that's our ride gone" said Clark.

Thus far the TVD's hadn't uttered a peep, but just at that moment one of them said, "Sorry guys..."

We heard the familiar sound of a gun being cocked and turned slowly to see the girls pointing weaponry at us.

From behind them we saw the doors of all the fake buildings opening and the familiar figures of many of our nemeses spilling from them - Sam Snow, Little Debbie, Negative Charge, The Double "D" Dames, to name a few -  all led by Tie-Po and Mac Ramey. All of them armed, and looking more than a little menacing.

What was the meaning of all this? Why were we at an old movie studio surrounded by villains? What did they want? How are we going to get home mow? How did we get out of this alive? (Because we did, you know. That's how come I'm able to write this. So there!).

Well you may ask. Fear not though, for more will be revealed on Friday!

~~~continuing on with all the continuation and stuff~~~

Regrets? I've had a few.

Just kidding! I haven't had any regrets whatsoever!
HA HA HA HA HA!!
I'm happy with everything I've ever done as an Unbelievable. Everything!

Okay, there might be a small handful of situations I could have handled better, but those turned out to be terrific learning experiences!

EXAMPLE 1:

This was a hired goon guarding the high-rise office of a business tycoon that we needed to question regarding his involvement with a chain of fast food restaurants that we had determined was a front for a French Maid trafficking operation. I thought he was trying to keep us out of that office but it turns out he was just offering to validate our parking. Oops!

"Mon Dieu, Zank yew, Monsieur Clark!"

UPSIDE: Fifi was VERY grateful to be rescued. VERY grateful, if you catch my meaning. Meaning, that she showed her gratitude with kisses and snuggles and... Oh, you figured that out? All right then.

EXAMPLE 2:

This one time, the Unbelieva-base was undergoing some renovations and we had to temporarily rent space in an office building downtown. A guy came in and asked, "Excuse me, can you tell me how to find the Stilleto Flats Municipal Showgirls Hall of Fame?" and I kicked him out the window. A tad extreme, but...

UPSIDE:
... the Stilleto Flats Municipal Showgirls Hall of Fame was located on the ground floor.


EXAMPLE 3:

"I am so sick and tired of this $#@%#@ TV being on the fritz!"

UPSIDE:

Okay, so this wire thing actually is important. Now I know. Great. Thanks.



My point is, when it comes to my career as a member of The Unbelievables, I regret absolutely nothing. Nothing! I have zero regrets! Not a single one!!

I do kind of regret my "Tropical Traveler" phase.

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."