Rescuing Henri

We quickly ate the mac and cheese and got down to business. Too quickly, if I'm being honest, which I am. For one thing, bad for the digestion. For another...
"Are we really in a hurry to go rescue Henri Petit?", I asked. "Why?"
"He's a person and he's in danger", Jeff said.
"Right", Michael added. "It doesn't matter that he's a criminal and that we've had problems with him. We're bigger than that."
"Are we, though? I'm not sure we are. I'm pretty sure I'm not, at least. I have to admit, the idea of Petit being totally out of our lives makes me kind of happy. It'll certainly free us up to help people who aren't a pain in our collective behinds."
Jeff and Michael looked at each other.
Jeff said, "Well... I mean, we're heroes. We do heroic things. Right, Michael?"
Michael answered with some hesitation. "Yes. Yes, we are."
I could be wrong, but it seemed like Jeff let off the gas a little.

We arrived in Granite Falls and found No Good Nick's with little difficulty (it's not a big town). Not only did we find the place, but with the help of a happy-to-see us barmaid, we found Petit.

"I'm really happy to see you", she said. "I've been babysitting this monkey all day long and he's on my nerves something fierce. We have karaoke tonight and I have work to do."
"How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not a baby and I am not a monkey!", Petit snarled. "Oh hi, Unbelievables".
"Whatever, monkey baby. All I know is they said The Unbelievables would show up eventually to collect him and I'm glad you did."
"Who is 'they'?", Michael asked.
"These guys", she answered as she handed us a photo with a note attached.

"Hello Unbelievables. Please allow me to introduce ourselves! We're the Hammertrax Gang! Me, Liam Hammertrax, and my brothers Guido (L) and Chong (R)! Don't worry about the girl; she's a model we hired to be in our publicity photo and was released unharmed! The point of all of this is that we are getting into the criminal biz and will be causing all sorts of problems for you in the future! We wanted to make a statement of our serious intent and at first we thought we would put someone you love in peril! But then we thought a more unique statement would be to put someone you despise in peril! That's why we kidnapped Henri Petit, to show you we can get to anyone, any time! We are devious! We are clever! Mayhem will ensue! Keep that in mind!"

Jeff turned to Henri Petit and said, "what do you know about these jamokes, you crumb-snatching muggins?"
Petit said, "All I know is that they're in more trouble with me than they are with you. Nobody kidnaps Henri Petit!! It's a matter of who finds them first, me or you, and they'd better hope it's you! Because...they...will...PAY!!!"
Michael looked at us and said, "Well, I guess we have this to look forward to now too. At least we rescued Petit."
Petit said, "Take me home immediately, you morons." Jeff said, "Yeah yeah, we'll take you home." Petit then said, "Ooh, but first there's an adorable soft-serve ice cream spot just down the street. It looks like an ice cream cone! Who wants soft-serve? My treat!"

With that, I picked him up, threw him in the trunk and slammed the door. Yeah, I wanted soft-serve. But the day I let Henri Petit buy me a Twistee Cone is the day I quit The Unbelievables.

The Unbelievables Go To Washington (State, That Is)

The guys had all but abandoned the Snohomish Yelp review clue since hearing the soundbite from Petit, or someone claiming to be Petit. To me, it sounded like Inspector Clouseau doing a bad Herve Villechaize impersonation (or perhaps the other way around), but since Clouseau was a fictional character famously brought to life by the great and most definitely late Peter Sellers, and Mr. Villechaize was similarly deceased, we knew it couldn't be either of them.

I decided to go back to the Yelp clue for one last time. I hit gold. Pay dirt. The Motherlode. Not from the monster burger bit, but from the words "Swingtime Express". Immediately I zeroed in on a quaint tavern in downtown Snohomish called the Oxford Saloon.

Looking at the reviews, they didn't seem to have a monster burger, but they seemed to have other burgers which were definitely huge, as well as a dish that caught my eye - the Prosciutto truffle Mac'n'cheese.

As soon as I told the guys about this I was ready for them to be champing at the bit to head to Washington State, but they seemed to be only partially interested. That is, until I mentioned the words "Prosciutto Truffle Mac'n'cheese".

"I'll drive!" they both shouted, fighting over the car keys. I waded in sharpish, and grabbed the keychain, putting an end to their childish banter. "I'LL drive, lads" I commanded, "I happen to know the owner of The Oxford and if you're lucky, I'll talk him into letting you have an extra helping."

During the grueling yet picturesque journey, Clark earwigged me during a gas-and-potty stop. "How do you happen to know the owner of a place that does Prosciutto Truffle Mac'n'cheese and yet we didn't know about this?"

"An old pal from days of yore," I said. "How do you think I acquired my skills in the whipped potato department?"

Clark scratched his head and bugged his eyes out in wonderment. He slowly walked back to the car with his convenience store purchases in his arms (3 tubes of Pringles, 15 Twinkies and a case of PayDay bars, plus a Big Gulp of Mountain Dew), muttering something about hardly knowing me at all, to where Michael was sitting in the 'Vette with his purchases (a double espresso and a bar of Ritter Sport, plus a copy of Woman's Own which he apparently buys for the recipes, despite seldom, if ever, cooking anything) listening to Glen Campbell's Dreams Of An Everyday Housewife with tears rolling down his cheeks and sobbing like a child.



"He's gone, he's gone," Michael blubbed. "First Bowie, now Glen..."

A few hours later we reached our destination - the pretty little Northwest town of Snohomish, a hidden gem full of neat shops and bars and restaurants. I pulled up the 'Vette outside the Oxford Saloon and we all took a minute to compose ourselves after having had an emotional sing-along to Glen Campbell's Greatest Hits in honor of the great man.

I strode into the bar and was greeted by the young and unfamiliar bartender.

"Hey, fellas, what can I get you?" said the barkeep.

"Actually, I'd like to speak to the owner," I replied. "And get these guys two big plates of that Prosciutto Truffle Mac'n'cheese while you're at it!"

"Right away, sir," he answered, and scuttled off.

A moment later, my old buddy Ernie came out into the bar area. When he saw me he greeted me heartily, slapped me on the back and asked what the heck I was doing in this neck of the woods? I gave him a brief run-down of the story so far and then played him the strange message that appeared on Michael's SoundCloud account. At this, he grew pale.




"Did he say... no-goodnicks?" he asked, visibly shaken.

"Yes, why??" I enquired.

"Well, I recently had a run-in with the owner of a local bar in nearby Granite Falls..."

"What bar?" mumbled Clark through his mouthfuls of the most incredible mac'n'cheese ever created.

"Well," answered Ernie, "it's a place called No-Good Nick's..."

"What are we waiting for?" said Michael. "Three plates of Prosciutto Truffle Mac'n'Cheese to go, Ernie!"

Tune in on Friday for more...