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.

The Case of King Cotton (part 3)

As much fun as it was to put a savage beating on Henri Petit...just like it always is...we weren't really that much closer to finding King Cotton and shutting him down. We headed back to The Unbelieva-base to go over some clues with our team of research interns and come up with our next move.



"We just whipped up a fresh round of 'clues', boys. The next move is yours!"

 That's when our neighbor and landlord Marissa Rapier, proprietor of Miss Riss's Home for Wayward Showgirls, popped in. She's always a big fan of our sausage parties and had been in attendance at the one where this whole caper first unfolded. We sat on the plush couches surrounding our indoor fire pit (of course we have an indoor fire pit) and just threw the facts of the case out at each other. Marissa listened thoughtfully and chimed in with, "I remember bright red weinies being sold in grocery stores in Georgia. I haven't seen them here in Nevada. Is there a connection to the South?" We stopped, sat up straight and looked at one another. Then we burst out laughing.
Michael: "Wow, way to pin down a specific location, Marissa!"
Jeff: "Yeah, we'll just head in that direction until we hear banjos and then start knocking on doors: 'Hi, is this The South? If so, does King Cotton live here?'. Ha ha ha!"
Clark: "Seriously, Marissa! A connection between The South and anything relating to cotton? Where do you come up with this stuff?"



Highlighted: The neighborhood where Marissa thinks we should look for King Cotton.

 We laughed and laughed and laughed some more. Then, when we finally settled down, Michael said, "You guys want to beat up Henri Petit again?". Naturally, we did so we said yes and went back to Baltimore to do that.



"Aw, leave me alone, will ya?"

 The point is, we still haven't solved the mysterious case of King Cotton and his mind-altering red weiners. We'll get around to it eventually though.

Back In The Back Of The Laundromat

So ... you'd think: 
 

"Jeff? Clark? Michael? We've read the last two entries in the mythos of The Unbelievables and, while interesting in and of themselves, you're tossing out quite a few whys and wherefores of your super secret and clandestine digs in Stiletto Flats, Nevada for all to know. Aren't you leaving yourself open to infiltration? Aren't you, in essence, inviting bad guys who wish to do you nothing but bad to you do you bad? Aren't you thumbing your noses at them to exact their revenge? Aren't you rolling out a red carpet for them to practice their monkey business? Sabotage your headquarters? All the while with their availability of getting their whites whiter than white and their color coordinates brighter than bright?"

One would think so, wouldn't one? But we're The Unbelievables, folks. Rest assured their are plenty of safeguards set in place to deter villains. (And some have come from trial and error. We like to think we learn from our mistakes ... such as that time we accidentally set Jeff's hair afire from ... that ... thing. But that's a tale for another time.)

The fact of the matter is this: It's not the safeguards so much as our fondness for jocularity that protects our headquarters. The unwitting evildoer is pretty simple-minded much of the time. (Trust us when we say there are a ton of them out there who are dumber than a bag of hammers.) Oh ... there are the geniuses and the brainiacs, the math wizards and those whose sheer brute strength is able to move mountains. But they all have a weakness, each and every one of them. Many times, that weakness is their single-minded focus on world domination (most villains) ... or eradicating toys from the face of the earth (Sam Snow aka "Frosty The Snowman") ... or pilfering each and every can of Spam in the continental United States (the no good Chipped McBeef). You see ... when the bad guys zero in on their wants, it's pretty easy to fool them. And if they think they can infiltrate the Unbelieva-Base with said blinders on, they're sadly mistaken. 

One of the armaments we employ is so basic it's downright comical. And that's precisely why we use it. It's the old "Six Quarter" defense.

We have a sign at the entrance of the laundromat just for the bad guys, directing them to the rear of the establishment. There, they find yet another herald that simply states "Entry to the Unbelieva-base. 6 Quarters, please." While they're digging in their pockets (reprobates rarely have quarters on their person, let alone 6 quarters), they're nabbed right then and there with little effort. It amazes us how gullible some of these heels are when it comes to simple bait.

Many such buffers are built into the Unbelieva-base. I'm not going to give away all our trade secrets. That wouldn't be prudent.

So ... again you'd think: 

"Jeff? Clark? Michael? What about things such as nuclear attack or somesuch? Isn't that a concern?" 

And the answer to that would be "No." Quite simply because: 1) It's too costly to fortify against nuclear annihilation; 2) While we're non-governmentally affiliated, good 'ole Uncle Sam would protect us against any incoming nuclear threat just the same as if some henchman launched same at a Wisconsin dairy farm, and; 3) Who says The Unbelievables don't have multiple Unbelieva-bases set throughout the country and abroad?

Silly criminal harbingers of doom. They're of little consequence when it comes to our headquarters, our handy, dandy "lavanderia" and our neighborly social attractants stocked with refreshments.

I have to go pull the car 'round now. I think Clark and Jeff are calling out our first case of the new year. 

So ... 2013? Worry not: You're safe in the hands of ...

... The Unbelievables ...